Critically acclaimed first for his premier collection of short stories, “Drown,” and later for his Pulitzer-Prize winning “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao,” Junot Díaz is deserving of equal praise for his third work, “This Is How You Lose Her.” 
In this collection of short stories, love—in all of its complications, wonder and tragedy—is the focus. 
The opening lines of the book speak to what is explored most in the collection: “I’m not a bad guy… I’m like everybody else: weak, full of mistakes, but basically good.” 
Díaz does not create flat characters in his literature—all of his characters have more depth than we first expect, and all of them are morally ambiguous. Machismo is prominently foregrounded in the collection, at times caricaturing masculinity before showing cowardly men shy away from the strong female roles that lace the backbone of the book. 
If constructions of masculinity and femininity weren’t tall enough to tackle in a slight collection (only 216 pages), Díaz is able to examine the intersectonality of each of his characters by focusing on their race, which is extremely complicated by their Dominican identity. They at once harbor resistance to their African roots while equally distancing themselves from American standards of whiteness. However, what makes the characters most amiable is their vulnerability. 
We are never forced to expect wonders from the characters of Díaz’s stories; rather, we are shown a cast composed equally of their imperfections and their nuanced displays of affection. 
Men are not brutes and women are not weak in this work—gender roles are exaggerated and exacerbate the problems with social constructs around gender. These problems translate in different cultural contexts, especially in the stories regarding immigration to the United States from the Dominican Republic and the complications that ensue.  
What makes these themes so easily accessible are Díaz’s masterful use of language and the fluidity with which he alternates between colloquial “Spanglish” slang and standard English. 
Language functions as a direct symbol for the immigrant experience in “This Is How You Lose Her.” The work is self-aware of its use of language that will be foreign to an American audience, yet offers just enough context for you to make it to the end of the collection and still take away the most important moments: love lost to lust, the problems with hyper masculinity, and the sexualization and exotification of the bodies of females of color.
 If you’re expecting a light-hearted collection of stories regarding love, you’ve come to the wrong place. If you’re looking for a collection of stories that will reel you in and keep you in its world for three hours until you finish, taunting you with love, teasing you with strength and showing you the hubris that marks the fall of each of the men in the collection, read on to find out how you lose her. 

Critically acclaimed first for his premier collection of short stories, “Drown,” and later for his Pulitzer Prize-winning “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao,” Junot Díaz is deserving of equal praise for his third work, “This Is How You Lose Her.” 

In this collection of short stories, love—in all of its complications, wonder and tragedy—is the focus. 
The opening lines of the book speak to what is explored most in the collection: “I’m not a bad guy… I’m like everybody else: weak, full of mistakes, but basically good.” 

Díaz does not create flat characters in his literature. All of his characters have more depth than we first expect, and all of them are morally ambiguous. Machismo is prominently foregrounded in the collection, which at times caricatures masculinity before showing cowardly men shy away from the strong female roles that form the backbone of the book. 

If constructions of masculinity and femininity weren’t tall enough to tackle in a slight collection (only 216 pages), Díaz is able to examine the intersectonality of each of his characters by focusing on their race, which is extremely complicated by their Dominican identities. They at once harbor resistance to their African roots while equally distancing themselves from American standards of whiteness. However, what makes the characters most amiable is their vulnerability. 

We are never forced to expect wonders from the characters of Díaz’s stories; rather, we are shown a cast composed equally of their imperfections and their nuanced displays of affection. 

Men are not brutes and women are not weak in this work—gender roles are exaggerated and exacerbate the problems with social constructs around gender. These problems translate in different cultural contexts, especially in the stories regarding immigration to the United States from the Dominican Republic and the complications that ensue.

What makes these themes so easily accessible are Díaz’s masterful use of language and the fluidity with which he alternates between colloquial “Spanglish” slang and standard English.

Language functions as a direct symbol for the immigrant experience in “This Is How You Lose Her.” The work is self-aware of its use of language that will be foreign to an American audience, yet it offers just enough context for you to make it to the end of the collection and still take away the most important moments: love lost to lust, the problems with hyper masculinity, and the sexualization and exotification of the bodies of females of color.

 If you’re expecting a light-hearted collection of stories regarding love, you’ve come to the wrong place. If you’re looking for a collection of stories that will reel you in and keep you in its world for three hours until you finish, taunting you with love, teasing you with strength and showing you the hubris that marks the fall of each of the men in the collection, read on to find out how you lose her.