Brandon Taylor’s The Late Americans

On class, sex and poetry seminars.

Author and cultural critic, Brandon Taylor, has been widely praised for his depiction of queer and black lives in contemporary America. His debut novel, Real Life, was shortlisted for the prestigious Booker Prize in 2020, and his 2022 short story collection, Filthy Animals, became an instant national bestseller. In light of this commercial and critical success, Taylor’s second novel, The Late Americans (2023), received a more mixed reception. At its heart, The Late Americans is an experimental collection of interrelated stories with interconnected characters, challenging traditional novelistic forms. Its strong focus on class and identity arguably aligns itself with many recent literary explorations of contemporary queer life. Yet, it left me feeling more conflicted than I have about any book in a long time. 

Set in Iowa City, The Late Americans is partly a campus novel, following a circle of friends and lovers, many of whom are graduate students. Each chapter focuses on a specific character, and the narrative gravitates through the apartments, cafes and classrooms of the mid-West. The fluctuating relationships among the characters prompt reflections on class, love, career decisions, and artistry. Along the way, we are introduced to an eccentric collective: dancers, poets, vegetarians who advocate for the death penalty, volatile local landlords, and meat-packers. 

Frankly, much of my admiration of The Late Americans came from Taylor’s commitment to exploring ideas surrounding art, creativity, and literature. The novel opens in a creative writing seminar, where nine students share their poetry. For me, it was in these poetry seminars - there is another later in the novel - that The Late Americans is at its best. Taylor writes:

‘In seminar, grad students on plastic folding chairs: seven women, two men. Naive enough to believe in poetry’s transformative force, but cynical enough in their darker moments to consider poetry a pseudo-spiritual calling, something akin to the affliction of televangelists.’

As the students exchange fierce dialogue, defending and criticising each other's poetry, the novel raises significant questions about academic culture. Taylor’s interest in literary form is evident, and through Seamus’ narrative perspective, he critiques certain poetic styles, particularly the use of trauma as a central theme, which Seamus dismisses as bad art or lazy. This stance is bold and provocative. But, in telling us what poetry should or shouldn’t be, Seamus seems to lose sight of what poetry is - both for himself and in a broader sense. This tension adds a layer of compelling social commentary, one of many that the novel offers. 

Beyond the classroom, the mostly gay main characters frequently engage in sexual acts - with each other, professors, and strangers, both online and in person. These depictions of sex are often unerotic and occasionally violent. They are used as a means of communication, self-punishment, and a way for many of the primary characters' storylines to intersect. In an interview with The Standard, Taylor explained that writing about sex is about depicting contemporary lives in a real way. In The Late Americans, he writes: 

‘It just felt important that I not cordon off sex and to not treat it as this strange, dark enterprise necessarily, but that it comes in and out of the characters’ lives as freely as it comes in and out of daily life for many, many people.’

Listening to Taylor discuss The Late Americans and his literary style on NPR’s ‘It’s Been A Minute’ podcast offered a lot of clarity regarding some of his choices in the novel. Taylor strongly believes that contemporary fiction has seen a loss of strong characters, shifting instead toward a focus on plot, aesthetics, or ‘vibes’. 

In response, The Late Americans unfolds as a sprawling set of character studies, meditating on the University of Iowa’s pool of grad students and the surrounding townspeople. However, this is where my conflict with the novel arises. As most of the primary characters swap partners, share aspirations, and occupy the same spaces, it becomes remarkably easy for them to blend into one another. They often feel interchangeable. Perhaps this is an unavoidable symptom of the narrative structure Taylor adopts in The Late Americans. Or maybe it is a weakness in fulfilling his purpose of character writing. 

Seamus, in particular, defies this mould. He is arguably the most developed character, with the reader spending the most time in his perspective. Insufferable, adversary, and arguably misogynistic, he is nevertheless the character I found most compelling. His chapters not only provoke questions surrounding academic culture and the role of identity politics within contemporary poetry but also introduce a crucial element of class consciousness to the novel. 

As one of the few working-class protagonists in the novel, Seamus takes shifts at a local hospice. Other characters also grapple with class-related challenges. One couple, Fyodor and Timo, constantly argue over the ethical implications of Fyodor’s job. Ivan, following the advice of another character, begins making and selling porn to send money to his parents - something his partner, Goran, who has a trust fund and covers most of their expenses, struggles to understand. Fatima works at a cafe frequented by wealthier peers, who discuss money in abstract terms, while she is preoccupied with paying her rent, tuition and bills. She struggles to balance her artistry with her need to survive. Across these narratives, class emerges as the novel’s greatest tension.Taylor raises the question of  whether it is possible to love across class boundaries in contemporary America. 

The Late Americans is bleak and often mundane. Its characters are selfish, largely unlikeable, and their dialogue can be insufferable and frustrating. Yet, there is a beauty in Taylor’s honesty as he captures the everyday, and the struggles of young Americans. While The Late Americans is far from perfect, I am deeply grateful for it as an introduction to Brandon Taylor’s voice and perspective, especially his careful consideration of the hustling artist as a subject. 

Words by Skye Munn (she/her)