Astroturf by Matthew Sperling
There is a tongue-in-cheek cleverness about Matthew Sperling’s Astroturf, that begins with the title itself. Comically self-aware, Sperling dives into the contemporary obsession with the artificial, the synthetic, and the ever-present chasing of perfection. Despite this, it quickly becomes difficult to distinguish whether the author is rejecting or encouraging an infatuation with dangerous illusions, and the ending (or lack thereof) disappointingly suggests the latter.
Ned is introduced to the reader when he is first balancing a steroid filled needle above his thigh: his first dose and consequently his first taste into a life he has been craving. One that distinguishes him from the self he has been accustomed to: a thirty-year-old who is unloved, passive, and unsuccessful. Soon, he is transformed into a figure of ultimate masculinity. The muscles which he struggled to define become bulbous and prominent, his performance at work is boosted by his spike in energy, and where before he had been unlucky in love, women that others swoon over find themselves magnetically attracted to only him. With his new-found vigour as his fuel, he begins his own steroid company that may or may not be a sham.
It would be wrong to deny that Sperling has a talent for portraying clearly defined characters. There is a solidity and undeniable presence of creativity in the array of the characters he invents that with a few descriptions, he is able to spark an image in our minds of who exactly he means to depict. Additionally, there is a fast-paced plot that keeps interest piqued on what’s to happen next, and what is to come for our lowly friend Ned. At first, I found myself rooting for him even at times where his actions deserved his own demise, because honestly, who doesn’t enjoy an underdog story?
But unfortunately, I have to admit that the lack of character development and Ned’s commitment to his shallow, childish goals rendered the piece as somewhat juvenile. In its essence, it could easily be read as the diary of a naive teenage boy in which he divulges his wildest dreams: get big muscles, make money, fuck girls. Littered through-out the book were also uncomfortable references to females that screamed toxic masculinity. It was complaints like Ned’s ex-girlfriend was ‘a bit prissy about her attitude to sex’ that made it difficult to truly love, along with the continued hot-rich-dumb-girl stereotype that his new girlfriend takes.
image from @writeordietribe
It soon became apparent that Ned was not the potentially lovable guy who just needs a chance, but rather that guy who finds self-assurance in blaming others (particularly women) for his own deficiencies. These disappointing elements could be forgiven if there is some sort of retribution at the end, a sign that no, scamming others for money and being a token for toxic masculinity aren’t to be rewarded, but there really is no such conclusion. Instead, readers are given a gaping hole where a satisfying ending could be, should be, making this piece a how-to rather than a warning tale.
In its whole Astroturf is not a bad piece of writing. It is frustratingly gripping, and if you are looking for a quick read that sparks emotions, albeit negative ones, it is enjoyable to flip through. The blown-up balloon on the verge of bursting on its front cover is to me what I wanted the book to be. I revelled in the build-up, the pushing of limits that should not be tested, but where I craved this deception to burst, it fizzled out into emptiness instead.
by Matthew Sperling
160 pages. 2018
About Roumina Parsamand
Roumina is a journalism and finance student from Melbourne, Australia. She is a filler of journals with words and drawings, and an obsessive reader. Always happy to chat books, pet dogs, and drink tea. You can find her on Instagram at @nami.reads
