Paul Goldberg’s The Château really took a second reading for me to warm up to fully. Perhaps it’s because the bleakly-comedic way it treats the world post-2016 US Presidential election still has the sting of too soon to it, and how its jaunty, blithe tone at first seems like a misstep given everything that’s going on the background—and foreground—of the novel. Protagonist Bill Katzenelenbogen, recently fired from the Washington Post for “insubordination”, learns that his former college roommate, a famous plastic surgeon, has fallen to his death from a swanky Florida tower. Bill decides that he’ll put up with his exasperating (and to us, wonderfully complex) father, while he uses his last few dollars to get down to the opulent swamp of Hollywood, Florida, to investigate. Once he arrives in Florida, he learns that his father (who was once a refusenik dissident poet, is not a perpetrator of Medicare fraud) is trying to take over the condo board to restore their building (the titular Château) to its former glory—to “Make Château Great Again”, and to “drain the swamp” of the greedy board members who drown the residents in fees while they enjoy their shiny new Lexus-shaped kickbacks.

The Château gets off to a rocky start, seeming to reflect every cliché of this kind of literary fiction—of course Bill has an ex-wife, of course Bill slept with a young, hot coworker, with whom he still has a flirtatious relationship. So the appearance of Bill’s father Melsor and the whole host of Russian expats and wealthy American retirees who occupy Melsor’s sphere of South Florida provide a welcome turn towards the original and, strangely enough, the heartfelt. The introduction and handling of Bill’s romantic relationships (such that they are) feel like obligations of the detective story that Goldberg checked off a list, while Melsor and the residents of his condo feel wholly original, fleshed-out, and grounded in something real, in turn allowing Bill’s characterization to rise above what we might expect. Of course, the fact that my political sympathies lie with Bill’s mean that I can understand the “what the fuck, the world’s ending anyway” attitude Bill adopts when he decides to use the final thousand-or-so dollars to his name to go to Florida, especially in the disorienting unreality of life under a Trump administration.


Bill is both righteous and hypocritical, determined to resist Trumpism and fight for truth even as he doesn’t quite realize that treating his former friend’s tragic death as a career shot in the arm is pretty darn callous, or the fact that he still harbors feelings for the aforementioned former coworker, fired as she was from the Washington Post for Stephen Glass-esque antics. (Narratively, the death of Bill’s friend—a plastic surgeon—is more a symbol of American excess, and device to get Bill to Florida, than actual important plot thread.)

Bill and Melsor’s relationship, the wonky, beating heart of The Château, feels so well-worn and lived-in that its volatile pushes-and-pulls contain some genuinely touching moments. Bill’s feelings about his father are rightfully complicated: he’s disappointed that his once-brave, defiant father has become a greedy, nativist shill, and yet there’s the sense that against outside forces, Bill would be tempted to defend him to the death. While Bill stopped speaking to his father after Melsor attempted to get him to do some dirty work during his Medicare fraud trial, shocked and disgusted by Melsor’s mendacity and lack of morals, he still sent the former classmate who broke the story a hearty “fuck you” note. No one is allowed to insult and/or hurt Bill’s father but Bill. Meanwhile, as Bill finds it increasingly harder to feel concerned about abetting Melsor in his crimes against his neighbors (including breaking-and-entering and wire-tapping), we can see how his entire conception of right and wrong and rule of law has been rightfully shaken after the 2016 election.


Scholars of language and linguistics will likely have a field day with the way The Château works with language. Over the course of the novel, Bill (birth name: Ilya) increasingly converses with his father and neighbors in Russian, his native tongue, symbolizing his own grudging acceptance of Melsor; yet even as he becomes closer to his crooked father, Bill comes to use Russian as a language of investigation and discovery, eventually finding in the Russian language the desire to continue the truth-telling, danger-courting legacy his father abandoned when the family came to America.

If Trump hadn’t been elected, I suspect that Goldberg would have been able to write The Château as a sort of what-if?-so-glad-we-avoided-that parable; indeed, he told Kirkus Reviews in early 2016 that he was writing a book that clearly became The Chateau somewhere along the way. The proceedings of The Château are so vivid on their own that the liberal application of Trump Victorious feels topical rather than completely intertwined into the narrative. Trump merely provides a more recognizable lens through which we can view Goldberg’s creation, turning the proceedings from the “Florida Man” punchline/dismissal into something much more understandable for those of us not familiar with the unique ecosystem of the wealthy retirees of South Florida. Because The Château is a work of fiction, it’s not going to be judged on how factual it is, or whether its exaggerations help or harm our understanding of Trump—and it shouldn’t be.


The Château is undoubtedly the work of someone who has been considering the implications of Trump’s ascendance in very personal terms as well as the usual historic/political ones. Its early 2018 release date (and the fact that it’s set in January 2017, mere days before Trump’s “coronation”, as Bill puts it) might seem a bit opportunistic, since someone has to write the Defining Trump Novel of Our Time at some point. Yet Goldberg’s book is clearly the culmination of some serious thought about what the alarming rise of MAGA-ness means, skillfully deployed in a glib, almost theatrical fictional setting with an undeniably intimate touch.

Bill Katzenelenbogen’s fictional biography is so similar to Goldberg’s own—Russian-born, Duke graduate, medical reporter with a zeal for justice—that it’s nearly impossible not to see Bill as an authorial stand-in, meaning that Goldberg is likely using this farcical novel to unpack his own relationship to Trumpism. Even if Paul Goldberg’s father is nothing like Melsor Katzenelenbogen, the community—and constituency—Melsor represents is undoubtedly one with which Goldberg is familiar: the oxymoronically Trump-loving Soviet refusenik who doesn’t see in Trump the same kind of dictatorial intentions they escaped when they left the USSR. In short, Goldberg’s still writing about a kind of family he’s known and experienced, even if it’s not his literal family, and thus his observations have the ring of truth to them, as bleak as that may seem.

An interesting novel that examines the various forms of existential angst following the inauguration of Donald Trump (which - now that Biden has defeated him - we can now, thankfully, start putting behind us). It at times amusing and thought-provoking, and it was interesting reading it with some distance from the events.

The humour doesn't always land, for me, but it is a generally well-written and interesting novel.

In this novel is the blackly comedic exploration of the surrealistic life in post-election-Trump America. Set during the dark day that was the inauguration of Donald Trump, this novel tackles political and social tensions from the perspective of immigrants on either side of the political divide. A suddenly fired 52-year-old journalist, dismissed for insubordination, goes to Florida with the intent to investigate his friend’s death and ends up embroiled in his lunatic of a father’s plan to overthrow his condo board. Theoretically, this is a political conflict of Trump’s election played out in a microcosm of a luxury condo building. Practically it’s something of a farce, something of a satire, something of a father/son drama. The Chateau is an uproarious satire of the dissolution of the American Dream but what follows is nothing short of a kind of madness. Goldberg is supposedly remarkably perceptive. A laugh out loud hysterical wordsmith whose talents are on full display; his observations profoundly on the nose and the dialogue between the characters is real, witty, genuine. Some might argue that The Chateau is at times over the top but it wouldn’t have been nearly as entertaining had it not been, but this book is decisive, you will either love it or hate it. Oh and by the way, if you like Donald Trump and the so-called ideals for which he stands, you probably shouldn't read this book and the use of Russian got old fast.

I am really disappointed in this because it had a really cool premise and honestly the storyline is so great and relevant. However, the actually logistics of reading this text is unbearable. Completely anti-user friendly. Maybe there's a point to that, maybe I'm just looking at it from a privileged English speaking individual's standpoint (but who speaks Latin anymore?) , but some explanation would have been awesome.

A humorous story with many reminders of my grandparents. Also, visiting Florida and references to our current political situation are sprinkled in.

A fun and funny story, full of great moments, great characters.

Published by Picador on February 13, 2018

A cosmetic surgeon known as the Butt God plunges to his death. His college roommate, Bill Katzenelenbogen, recently fired from his gig as an investigative science reporter for the Washington Post, decides the death might merit a book, perhaps jumpstarting a new career. Bill was fired for insubordination, meaning he didn’t give a hoot about any of the stories he’d written during the last six years. He was one of the typing dead.

Bill needs the book to succeed because he has no income and, thanks to an unfortunate divorce, no savings. The book project forces Bill to reunite with his father (with no salary, Bill can’t afford a Ft. Lauderdale hotel) and to meet his stepmother Nell for the first time. His father (along with many other established immigrants who, having achieved modest wealth, hates new immigrants) lives in Château Sedan Nueve. His name is Melsor and he acquired his wealth through one of his shady operations, this one involving Medicaid fraud, of which he was acquitted.

Bill’s relationship with his father was never strong, but it deteriorated rapidly twenty years earlier after Melsor ignored Bill’s warning about a “miraculous” cancer treatment that killed Bill’s mother. The choice of doctor was one of many stop signs that Melsor spent his life barreling through.

Bill’s social, political, and religious observations as he muddles through his newly unemployed life are darkly amusing. He also expresses entertaining and wide-ranging opinions about relationships, interior design, Russian poetry, Russian vodka, aging, sex, aging sex, truth as an irrelevant virtue, global warming, real and fake news, fascism, and any number of other topics.

Bill’s father is even more hilarious. His philosophy is an eclectic assemblage of maxims from Russian poetry, Donal’d Tramp’s The Art of the Deal, and an amalgam of American and Russian ideals that have been conveniently edited to support his own financial interests. He is at war with the corrupt condominium Board that, in his view, is selling out the Château residents by accepting kickbacks in exchange for shoddy and needless construction that will increase the residents’ fees with no corresponding benefit. Whether his suspicions are true is both unclear and irrelevant, because believing them to be true fits Melsor’s jaded view of the world.

The story ends in ambiguity that highlights the ambiguous nature of the modern world. Readers who can’t bear any criticism of Trump will no doubt vilify Paul Goldberg as a liberal, that most detested of creatures, but the novel actually has little to do with Trump or American politics. It is more about American life, as seen through the lens of two perspectives: a Russian Jewish immigrant and his Americanized son, neither of whom have managed to live perfect lives but both of whom have strong opinions that readers are free to test with an open mind. To the extent that the novel criticizes the president, it does so lightly.

The story’s humor, and particularly its send-up of Florida condominium boards (which, according to a local journalist, are all assumed to be filled with corrupt back-biters and therefore evidence of corruption isn't newsworthy), kept me laughing consistently. The central characters have the kind of quirks that bring them to life, but they aren't based solely on stereotypes. The Château won’t appeal to every sense of humor (or to people who have no sense of humor), but it appealed greatly to mine.

RECOMMENDED

The description of this novel on Netgalley claims that "you will never look at condo boards, crime, kleptocracy, vodka, Fascism, or Florida the same way again." While I was interested in the plot of this novel, it seemed too specific to be interesting and I was right. A vain attempt at a James Patterson crime novel, Goldberg tries to interest us with how condo boards work? And he thinks that there is any other way to look at fascism other than that it is terrible and must be snuffed out?

This novel is arrogant and slightly boring. It's a no from me.

My first thought upon finishing this book was how do I review it? It’s such a difficult book to review. Goldberg sticks to the write what you know maxim judging by his fictional award winning debut Yid, which actually sounds way more interesting than this one, born in Moscow, moving to the US at 14, the man has an authentically bifurcated perspective and this is definitely a story that requires such an approach not just of its author, but also of its audience. This novel is very much a bilingual experience, literally and figuratively, which might be viewed either as one of its main draws or (in my case) or one of its main (exhaustive) detractions. The plot has to do with a suddenly fired 52 year old journalist who goes to Florida with the intent to investigate his friend’s death and ends up embroiled in his lunatic of a father’s plan to overthrow his condo board. Theoretically this is political conflict of Trump’s election played out in a microcosm of a luxury condo building. Practically it’s something of a farce, something of a satire, something of a father/son drama. Melsor, the father, is a fascinating character, once a proletarian freedom fighter, now an ardent Trump supporter, an idealist turned conman turned saboteur, too psychologically scarred by one culture to properly belong to another, he is a man who values his convictions about his relationship with his only son. Personally I’ve always been fascinated by how someone can immigrate from a totalitarian strongman regime and later crave it, so here’s an interesting take on that mentality. That mindset’s juxtaposition to one of the 4 decade thoroughly Americanized son would have created enough drama, possibly making for a more compelling read, but the tedious machinations and internecine politics of the condo building situation were considerably less compelling and Goldberg’s insistence of doing the book in both languages (some writings are recreated in original in Cyrillic alphabet and all relevant dialogue is done in both languages, original in Latin alphabet spelled out phonetically) is just user unfriendly. What’s the goal here? Is the book aimed mainly at a narrow bilingual audience, because even if you can read both, it’s tedious and not at all necessary. If you can’t…than it’s just puffing up the book with word count. Seems weirdly gratuitous or something. The narration was quite good though, pleasantly humorous, it’s like the book tried to engage you in spite of itself. Maybe Yid would have been a more agreeable read. This one was interesting enough, particularly for a refreshingly honest look into an eastern European immigrant experience in the modern America. And I imagine going with English only version would cut the reading time significantly. Unless you’re trying to expand your linguistic prospects. Thanks Netgalley.

I’m not the right reader for this book. The style and satire just left me cold; I couldn’t get involved in the writing or the characters.

“The Chateau”, a satire set in the condominiums of Florida amidst the Russian emigre retiree community in the immediate aftermath of Trump’s election is a weird pastiche of politics, corruption, and dishonesty. Wait! Just like Washington! I would have enjoyed the book more if I was able to laugh at today’s political situation, but I find it just too dire for humor.

This is not my cup of tea nor was it available in a font I could easily read. Apologies!

What a strange book! Author Paul Goldberg's second novel follows up his successful debut The Yid with a blackly comedic exploration of the surreality of life in post-election-Trump America. William (nee Ilya) Katzenelenbogen has lost his job as an investigative reporter at age 51, his college friend the so-called "Butt God of Miami Beach" aka Zbignew (a cosmetic surgeon), has fallen to his death, so he decides to revisit the scene of Zbig's demise with the vague idea of turning his experiences into a saleable book/movie/source of income.

Since his finances are in the crapper along with his professional life (he doesn't even have the cash to cover his upcoming rent), he plans to stay with his father and stepmother. He's been estranged from his father for years, ever since his father's trial for fraud against the government for a scheme involving a non-existent ambulette service.

Bill/Ilya gets sucked into one farcical situation after another when he gets involved in his father's revenge and takeover scheme with his (the father's) condo board of directors. Bill stretches his horizons to unlawful entry and a pile of other felonies in a largely vodka fueled attempt to support and reign in his father to some degree.

The entire book is a sort of morality play. The writing is stellar, but I'm not nearly as hip or cool as the target audience. I am very sure it will play well to young urban professionals, especially ones who are more familiar with the stereotypes than am I.

There were several points in the book that surprised an uncomfortable bark of laughter out of me. I also enjoyed the way the author handled the non-English dialogue. It was comfortable and seamless to read. I also admire the heck out of the author's ability to do the necessary mental gymnastics to write characters who are philosophically diametrically opposed to one another. Bill's interactions with his father are brilliantly written (and full of pathos(?)).

Bottom line, not a comfortable read for me, but extremely well written and powerful. Dark, dark, sarcastic humor. Also worth a note, this book is extremely current. Not precisely sure how well it'll play 10 years from now. A lot of the humor involves the surreal and frenetic current news cycle and living in the USA. If you feel like you've fallen into an alternate dimension every time you turn on the news, this book will tick a lot of boxes.

Due out 13th February, 2018 from Macmillan's Picador imprint.
Four stars for the writing

William Katzenelenbogen, investigative reporter, has been fired by the Washington Post. At fifty-two years old, he is being replaced by untested "new hires" who will now cover political ideologues and patterns of crime. Unlikely to scoop up a high paying job, cash strapped Bill needs a journalistic opportunity. Bill's former college roommate, Zbignew (Zbig) Wronski, arguably the "Butt God of Miami Beach", a posterior designer who reshapes "butts" has fallen to his death from the forty-third floor of the Grand Dux Hotel in Hollywood, Florida. Deemed an accident by the police, the case is closed. Bill wants to understand the circumstances surrounding Zbig's death and travels to Florida. Perhaps he can write a book hypothesizing the cause of Zbig's demise.

The Katzenelenbogen family are Russian transplants. Coming to America from Moscow in 1978, Bill's father Melsor was a poet, a refusenik and a recognized troublemaker. Melsor sets up a non-extant fleet of ambulettes. Although not convicted of a crime, son Bill, outraged by his father's betrayal of the public trust, has not seen him for twelve years, but now, needs free accommodations in Florida and knocks on Melsor's door.

Melsor lives in the Chateau Sedan Neuve, "condo living" for the wealthiest 2% to 3%. Ethnically, the population of the condo dwellers is half Jewish and half Russian. Bill has made a timely entrance into Melsor's life. He is witness to the crumbling edifice. The building structure is moldy, the lobby flooded and the furniture is water stained. The condo is in flux, a constant state of construction where improvements are never completed. What's worse is that the Board of Directors is planning a $19 million special assessment to be imposed on the Chateau's 360 unit owners, guaranteed to force out those unable to foot their portion of the price tag. Melsor is determined to run for the BOD to end corruption, kickbacks, and break the cycle of build, demolish and rebuild.

In a darkly comic manner, The BOD election parallels the weeks leading up to the inauguration of Donald Trump. "The Chateau" by Paul Goldberg describes honesty and integrity, off shore deals and politically corrupt alliances.

Thank you Macmillan-Picador and Net Galley for the opportunity to read and review "The Chateau".

After losing his job, well-seasoned DC journalist Bill Katzenelenbogen flies south in an effort to stave of a budding existential crisis and redirect energies into an investigation on the untimely death of his college roommate (a distinguished plastic surgeon well known as "The Butt God of Miami Beach"). While in town, he visits his estranged father and becomes immediately entangled in a complicated web of feuds erupting from within the Chateau condo between the Board vs. Residents, Russian Immigrants vs Americans, and Jews vs.goys.

Set during the inauguration of Donald Trump, this novel tackles political and social tensions from the perspective of immigrants on either side. Overall, a fun read: satirical and subversive with heavy doses of despondence and brutal realism. I especially enjoyed the tidbits of Russian literature and poetry and vocabulary that were incorporated into the branching storylines

What was this about? This was a very disappointing story, that just could not get me involved. Sorry, but it's simply not my kind of book.