At a recent book signing in Washington, D.C., Christopher Buckley noted that with the first of 77 million Baby Boomers retiring in 2008, the need for Social Security reform may be an even more “inconvenient truth” than the prospect of drowning polar bears. Social Security is also the subject of his latest satirical novel. Boomsday is stylish and hilarious, and it provides such piercing generational comparisons that Buckley may, like his heroine, Cassandra Devine, succeed in stimulating debate about American retirees and the young workers who will pay for their retirement.

Buckley thanks Jean Twenge, a psychology professor at San Diego State University, in his acknowledgments and has clearly studied her research with diligence. Her book, Generation Me, is a fascinating and fluidly written study of young Americans, peppered with amusing references to popular culture. Twenge’s research charts the rise of narcissism in the post-Baby Boomer generation.

Narcissism isn’t merely a synonym for vanity, but a serious personality disorder. According to the 4^th edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, a publication of the American Psychiatric Association, Narcissistic Personality Disorder is “a pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), need for admiration, and lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts." Young Americans today have been reared to value self-esteem over self-control and achievement, argues Twenge. “Instead of creating well-adjusted, happy children,” she explains, “the self-esteem movement has created an army of little narcissists.”

Twenge meticulously unpacks the foibles of today’s young Americans, making her book a must-read for the business-owners who will hire them. And for Buckley fans, her work illuminates why Cassandra Devine is so enchanting. However, Buckley’s take on generational narcissism differs from Twenge’s—the narcissists in Boomsday are the Boomers, and Cassandra is the antidote.

Cassandra is a 29 year-old public relations executive in Washington, D.C., who modestly proposes—in homage to Jonathan Swift—that the government encourage Baby Boomer suicide to save Social Security. Buckley invents the word “Boomsday” to refer to the date when the Boomers will start to retire.

Young Americans today have been reared to value self-esteem over self-control and achievement. 'Instead of creating well-adjusted, happy children, the self-esteem movement has created an army of little narcissists.'

The novel opens with a news flash: “In Florida today, another attack on a gated community by youths protesting the recent hike in the Social Security payroll tax.” The “youths” in question are not the sort who set cars ablaze in France, but rather the readers of Cassandra’s blog, entitled “Concerned Americans for Social Security Amendment Now, Debt Reduction and Accountability,” or just CASSANDRA (note the ominous allusion to Homer). It is by blogging, which Buckley describes as au courant, that Cass manages to incense her peers over the national debt.

Cassandra’s zeal for Social Security reform springs from her disdain for the Baby Boomers, who she calls “the Ungreatest Generation.” And Buckley, a Baby Boomer himself, does a thorough job skewering them. He executes his most hilarious Boomer critique on Cass’s boyfriend, Massachusetts Senator Randolph Jepperson IV.

Jepperson, a drug-addled blue-blood, decides to run for public office during a visit to the JFK Library: “He stood in the cathedral-high glassed-in pavilion lobby looking at the sea and the sky and had himself a life-changing epiphany. It dawned on him that he too had a Boston accent, was good-looking, smart, Harvard educated, filthy rich, and—at least before he began vacuuming cocaine up his nose—a world-quality cocksman, a bantam rooster in any henhouse. He heard a voice—JFK’s voice. It said, Go for it.” In four sentences, Buckley has revealed to us the inner life of a narcissist.

Unlike the Baby Boomers, today’s young Americans are not especially drawn to political activism. Anyone who has seen a protest on the National Mall in recent years could tell you that they are better attended by nostalgic Boomers than any other group. Jean Twenge laments this trend, writing, “We’re Generation Whatever.” Christopher Buckley uses “Gen-W” for short.

Surely the most refreshing part of Boomsday is its heroine. Cass is beautiful, intelligent, and resourceful, and she defies Jean Twenge’s account of her generation in every way. In spite of her personal trials, shaky family history, and a calamitous stint in the military, she does not wallow in apathy and cynicism. She identifies a problem she cares about and genuinely believes she can fix it. Emulating the hero of The Fountainhead, to which she refers several times in the story, she refuses to compromise her ideals and cannot suffer those who do. She is engaged with the world, not with herself. She is the anti-narcissist.

Perhaps for these reasons, Buckley lovingly bestows distinctions upon her that most of her peers will never possess. Within the space of nine years, she is given steady raises and is made a partner in a successful firm, all without having gone to college or padded her resume. Here again, Buckley looks to Twenge for inspiration. For example, Twenge deflates Generation Me’s outrageously high expectations, writing, “Most people—even most geniuses—won’t ever be on the cover of Time magazine.” Cass graces the magazine’s cover twice before she’s thirty.

Narcissism is omnipresent in popular culture. Between the rantings of a Hollywood actor against his child, the multimedia package mailed by the Virginia Tech murderer, and any number of politicians, our media are saturated with narcissists. Within any personal relationship or work environment, their affect is toxic. If narcissism is indeed on the rise, it may eventually prove to be the most inconvenient truth of all.

Elise Passamani is a summa cum laude graduate of Wellesley College and holds an MSt. in European Literature from St. John's College, Oxford. She is an Associate Editor of The American.