Book Review: The Winner by Teddy Wayne
When I first picked up The Winner, I was drawn in by the allure of Teddy Wayne’s name—the author whose previous works, Loner and Apartment, gripped me with their intriguing, flawed characters and keen psychological insights. I imagined this latest narrative would weave a similarly compelling tale. Instead, I found myself humming “Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson…” in the first half, as I noted the striking similarities to The Graduate. I began to wonder: was this a fresh spin or merely a derivative echo?
The protagonist, Conor O’Toole, is a tennis pro navigating the complexities of life, love, and morality on the edge of the elite class he serves. Introduced to a glamorous world through his lessons, and subsequently entangled romantically with an older woman and her daughter, his story initially fell into predictable tropes. I longed for something different—something that would showcase Wayne’s knack for crafting unique narratives rather than revisiting familiar ground.
As the plot thickens, Wayne attempts to elevate the stakes and illustrate the consequences of Conor’s actions. Unfortunately, the transition feels mechanical; it’s easy to see how Conor’s character, with a name reminiscent of a con-man, is designed to reveal his unscrupulous nature. This layer of wordplay didn’t exactly contribute to his depth but rather highlighted an overt device in the storytelling.
The narrative is punctuated by an abundance of inner monologue, where Conor endlessly rationalizes his choices and grapples with guilt. At times, I felt as though I was bombarded with the same thoughts over and over, leaving me to question if Wayne underestimated my attention span. This repetitiveness, while perhaps intended to draw me deeper into Conor’s psyche, instead created a sense of redundancy.
One notable miss for me was the world-building surrounding the wealthy characters. It felt at times lazy—surely a billionaire wouldn’t be single-handedly managing a mansion with 30 bedrooms? The idea of a tycoon doing her own laundry stretched my suspension of disbelief to its limits. These details, while seemingly trivial, pulled me out of the narrative, leaving me pondering logistics rather than immersing myself in the emotional landscape Wayne sought to explore.
Despite my frustrations, I can’t deny that The Winner is an enjoyable thriller. I breezed through it and found moments of sparkle amid the critique. The tension builds in an engaging way, allowing readers to experience Conor’s escapades with a sense of voyeuristic thrill. I did find myself sharing a bit of the gleeful mischief that accompanied the characters’ antics, wondering what bold choice Conor would make next.
In conclusion, The Winner might beckon readers looking for an entertaining ride filled with moral dilemmas and the allure of wealth, perhaps particularly resonating with fans of stories about complicated relationships within high society. However, those who, like me, have come to expect more depth and innovation from Teddy Wayne might find themselves slightly let down. Though this novel didn’t leave me with the profound impact of his earlier works, it was an intriguing, albeit flawed, journey—a reminder that even when we yearn for something transformative, we can still find inherent value in the ride. Happy reading, friends!