It has been argued (by proponents of the awesome-sounding “terror management theory”) that the most fundamental driving force behind human behaviour is the fear of death. Evolution has (perhaps uniquely) bequeathed us with the burdensome awareness of our own mortality, a knowledge that has generated entire systems devoted to extending and imbuing with meaning our nasty, brutish, and altogether short lives. We call these systems cultures, and at the heart of every culture is the desire to achieve what we know instinctively to be impossible: immortality. But what if the impossible became seemingly possible? What if humans were given reason to believe that they could, in theory, live forever? Gary Shteyngart’s Super Sad True Love Story provides an extended meditation on this possibility, in the particular context of a society in which technological innovation seems poised to make eternal life a reality. The verdict, unfortunately, is that we may be better off dead after all.

The events of the novel take place in a speculative, not-so-distant future where America is on the brink of collapse and so-called “äppäräti” are the all-purpose, all-knowing digital companion du jour. A series of diary entries and social media interactions reveal to the reader a burgeoning romance between middle-aged Lenny Abramov, a stereotypical New York Jew, and Eunice Park, a twenty-something SoCal product of Korean immigrants. Their relationship is predicated on Lenny’s belief that the youthful Eunice will “sustain [him] through forever” (Shteyngart 4), a belief made tangible by his work at the Post-Human Services division of the Staatling-Wapachung Corporation, where the realization of indefinite life extension is all but a done deal. As the two mismatched lovers navigate the crumbling physical and emotional landscapes around them, they attempt to reconcile their obligations to themselves, their respective families, and each other.

What makes the story so compelling, and its implications so hard to ignore, is that its imagined future is very much rooted in the real present. Lenny’s line of work may seem far-fetched to us at the moment, but even now contemporary scientists like Aubrey de Grey (whose work Shteyngart acknowledges as an influence) claim to be hot on the trail of a cure for aging. Similarly, the modern tech-enabled health and fitness craze finds its Shteyngartian counterpart in Eunice’s social media fat-shaming of her younger sister Sally (not to mention herself), and the obsessive nutritional monitoring and regulation practiced by Lenny and his colleagues. In both fictional and real worlds, the primary goal is the same: live a little longer. The difference lies in the expected outcomes: we are all just putting off the inevitable, while those of Lenny’s ilk are convinced that death is no longer a given.

However, unlike Dr. de Grey or some of his own novel’s characters, Shteyngart seems to have both little faith in the possibility of immortality and an acute appreciation of the potential pitfalls bound to accompany such a drastic shift in existential assumptions. Especially telling is the very first thing Lenny confides to his diary, that he has resolved to never die. This frames death as a choice, much as not getting vaccinated is a choice to be sick, or not wearing a helmet while cycling is a choice to suffer head trauma. Herein lies one of the central flaws of expecting immortality: far from alleviating our already considerable existential angst, knowing we could potentially continue to exist forever would make the prospect of non-existence that much more frightening, increasing our anxiety to the fever-pitch exhibited by Lenny and other “life lovers”. Ironically, the certainty of death offers us some measure of comfort. Take that away, and the stakes rise considerably. The pressure to keep yourself alive would be almost unbearable. In any case, all psychological issues aside, the final chapter reveals that even the best-laid plans of Post-Human Services had proven futile in time. This would seem to make it pretty clear that Shteyngart views immortality as not just undesirable, but unlikely in the first place.

In Super Sad True Love Story, Gary Shteyngart tackles some of life’s biggest questions, including what it means to live and die. In the end, I think Shteyngart believes that our mortality is precisely what makes us human. It gives us an edge, keeps us hungry, humble, and brave, because we know that some day, in the not-so-distant future, it will all be taken away from us.

Works Cited

Shteyngart, Gary. Super Sad True Love Story. New York: Random House Trade Paperbacks, 2010. Print.