The Visible ManA Novel

A glorious new aspect of the author’s work is revealed
Chuck Klosterman’s The Visible Man starts with a golden premise. Victoria Vick, a therapist based in Texas, receives a phone call from a man whom she refers to as Y__. The two begin a course of therapy over the phone, during which Y__’s peculiarities immediately intrigue and disorient Vick. For one thing, he refuses to provide his occupation, residence, or medical history; he also criticizes his therapist’s techniques, references The Sopranos at random, explains light refraction and spouts odd koans (“Anxiety is not a real problem. It’s only a modern problem.”) When the patient claims to be a scientist reeling in the aftermath of a bizarre government-funded project, Vick files the assertion decisively in the “delusional” category until a meeting with Y__ jars her thesis. He is not what he seems, but neither is the patient who she thinks.

The Visible Man is a few things, but primarily it’s a mystery: Who is Y__ and what does he want? As the patient’s layers peel away, Y__ reveals himself to be a voyeur, a creep, a theorizer of pop music, a philosopher of drug addiction, and an existential extemporizer capable of hurling his therapist’s attention (and with it, the listener’s) in the most unpredictable directions. Klosterman, who constructs his tale from Vick’s session transcripts and memos, expertly controls the revelation of Y___’s identity and secrets. The novel’s diverting weirdness won’t surprise any Klosterman fans, but its needle-precise line of suspense shows a glorious new aspect of his work.