Discontent by Beatriz Serrano
Read this book if you want to spend even more time hating your job than you already do
Readers might find catharsis in Discontent, Beatriz Serrano’s acerbic yet slight debut novel about millennial workplace ennui, while an equal number are likely to find it trying. At a Madrid ad agency, protagonist Marisa whiles away the hours in spite of the management position she has shirked her way into.
When we meet her, she is more checked out than ever, rocked by the recent suicide of the only colleague she felt even remotely close to. Playing out in the weeks between this event and the corporate retreat which will drive her to a climactic transgression during a presentation, the bulk of the novel invites us to join her in quiet-quitting; her small rebellion against capitalism.
So begins many a chapter in which she watches Youtube videos on work time, tosses around choice buzzwords to allay suspicion, and rides a state of numbing intoxication. To some, Marisa may represent a kindred spirit: rightfully appalled by our collective sleepwalk into late-stage capitalism, meeting it with dejection as the only rational response. Others, though, might just get annoyed by her individualistic approach to life. Opting out while cashing in is, after all, a privilege not everybody can afford.
Translated by Mara Faye Lethem, Serrano’s prose is clear and her portraits of corporate drudgery well-chosen. But even paired with its moments of levity, provided by Marisa’s wine-and-casual-sex evenings with her neighbour Pablo, it’s not enough to lift its willful miserablism.