Jennifer Egan’s A Visit from the Goon Squad won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 2011 and provoked an argument about whether it was a novel at all. It consists of thirteen chapters, each with a different narrator, a different time period, and sometimes a different formal approach – one chapter is written entirely as a PowerPoint presentation. The chapters share a network of characters centered on the music industry, but they do not add up to a conventional narrative arc. What they add up to is something more interesting: a meditation on time and how it moves, on what people become when they are not looking, on what music does and what it cannot do.
The loosely connected characters include Bennie Salazar, a record executive who discovered some great bands and can no longer hear music clearly; Sasha, his assistant, who steals compulsively and who carries a wound she does not fully understand; Lou, an older record executive who burns through women and children with equal thoroughness; and a wide cast of people who move in and out of the music world across several decades, from the 1970s punk scene to what appears to be the 2020s.
The chapters move backward and forward in time without warning. A chapter set in what feels like the near future is followed by one set in the 1970s; a chapter that seems to be about a minor character turns out to be central to the whole. The effect is of memory itself: non-linear, associative, revelatory in unexpected places.
The chapter written as a PowerPoint presentation belongs to Sasha’s daughter Alison, narrating her family’s present in slides. It should not work. It works completely. Egan uses the form to capture the fragmented quality of a child’s perception of adult emotional life, the way kids register things in discrete data points without the narrative connective tissue that adults impose on experience.
The title comes from a character who describes time as a goon: a bully, relentless, impersonal, destroying things it does not particularly target. The novel is about what time does to people who had potential, or who had love, or who had talent, or who had specific plans for themselves. None of the plans survive contact with time in the shape the planner imagined. The novel is interested in the gap between what we expected and what arrived.
Egan does not sentimentalize this gap. She does not argue that what arrives is better or worse than what was planned; she argues that it is different, and that the difference is the subject of literature.
The music world in the novel is not merely atmospheric. Egan knows her rock history, and the specific trajectory of the music industry from the independent 1970s scene through corporate consolidation and into digital fragmentation gives the novel’s historical arc an economic precision. Bennie’s relationship to music – his inability to hear it clearly and his continued attempts to find a record that restores the feeling – is the novel’s emotional spine.
The novel’s formal variety is not a stunt. Each chapter’s form reflects the consciousness and circumstances of its narrator. The PowerPoint chapter captures a child’s perception; a second-person chapter captures a character in flight from herself; a chapter written like a magazine profile creates ironic distance. The formal decisions are motivated.
Readers willing to surrender the expectation of linear narrative will find A Visit from the Goon Squad one of the most rewarding American novels of the 2000s. It is formally inventive without being inaccessible, emotionally honest without being sentimental.