A very contemporary story about surveillance capitalism, virtual reality, and 21st-century forever war, [that] will still be read a century from now for the news it brings about the timeless riddle of the human self. It's increasingly rare these days to find a novelist with Greg Jackson's world-swallowing ambition, and rarer still for one to make good on that ambition as gloriously as Jackson does here
Greg Jackson's prose is sly, wise, and almost self-consciously heroic, undaunted by the present moment, though it threatens to be our last
Greg Jackson is an athletically talented writer who packs so much into every single sentence and scene it almost scares me. His debut novel is somehow both a hardboiled thriller and a philosophical treaty with dialogues that would make Sorkin blush
From the Same Author
Adrift in lives of possibility and limitation, the flawed, struggling and sympathetic characters of these desperate, eerie stories seek refuge from meaninglessness and boredom in love, art, friendship, drugs, and sex. A journalist is either the guest or captive of a reclusive former tennis star at his mansion in the French hills; a terrible storm forces a man and a woman, who may be his therapist, to flee New York together; the artistic ambitions of a banker are laid bare when he comes under the influence of two strange sisters.
Unflinching, funny and profound, Prodigals maps the degradations of contemporary life – from the deification of celebrity, to the impotence of violence, to the psychological debts of privilege, to the loss of grand narratives – with unusual insight, sincerity, and passion. It is a fiercely honest and heartfelt look at what we have become, the comedy of our foibles, and our longing for home.
Greg Jackson on Granta.com
In Conversation | The Online Edition
Greg Jackson | Granta’s Best of Young American Novelists
‘A lot of writing is confronting your own failure, again and again and again’
Fiction | Granta 139
Country & Eastern
‘Anyone could find courage when the World-Historical Spirit had selected you to enact your martyrdom on the Six O’Clock News. But in the shadows, in secret, unrecognized?’