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Songs of No Provenance
A suspenseful, wildly engaging debut novel by the award-winning author of Rainbow Rainbow, following a musician spiraling in self-doubt and self-searching after a night—and a relationship—gone wrong
Songs of No Provenance tells the story of Joan Vole, an indie folk singer forever teetering on the edge of fame, who flees New York after committing a shocking sexual act onstage that she fears will doom her career. Joan seeks refuge at a writing camp for teenagers in rural Virginia, where she's forced to question her own toxic relationship to artmaking—and her complicated history with a friend and mentee—while finding new hope in her students and a deepening intimacy with a nonbinary artist and fellow camp staff member.
A propulsive character study of a flawed and fascinating artist, Songs of No Provenance explores issues of trans nonbinary identity, queer baiting and appropriation, kink, fame hunger, secrecy and survival, and the question of whether a work of art can exist separately from its artist.
Songs of No Provenance tells the story of Joan Vole, an indie folk singer forever teetering on the edge of fame, who flees New York after committing a shocking sexual act onstage that she fears will doom her career. Joan seeks refuge at a writing camp for teenagers in rural Virginia, where she's forced to question her own toxic relationship to artmaking—and her complicated history with a friend and mentee—while finding new hope in her students and a deepening intimacy with a nonbinary artist and fellow camp staff member.
A propulsive character study of a flawed and fascinating artist, Songs of No Provenance explores issues of trans nonbinary identity, queer baiting and appropriation, kink, fame hunger, secrecy and survival, and the question of whether a work of art can exist separately from its artist.
368 pages, Hardcover
First published June 3, 2025
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 77 reviews
July 19, 2025
go piss girl
June 30, 2025
you sang and you received no song.
July 3, 2025
this was pretty weird but i think in a good way. probably one of the better grey main characters ive read in recent memory. lots of pee mentions
December 9, 2025
On today's episode of Uncomprehending Leads To Lethal Psychic Damage, more in weird gender. (Or, the book that convinced me that I'm labelling myself either very wrong or very right)
The only book I can think of that bears any remote resemblance to Songs of No Provenance is the fruity Andrea Lawlor masterwork Paul Takes The Form Of A Mortal Girl. Partially that's just me connecting the mind poisoning of their shared themes, even if the content of them is kind of perfect opposites. But they both approach Gender in a somewhat similar way, and they're both about neurotic New Yorkers run astray. Joan might also appreciate the praise of the piss-boner in Paul.
Songs doesn't say anywhere that it's a piss book, which is pretty funny because honestly it's a core part of Joan Vole's character. She's straight, she tells us so, but her true fixation, the guiding light of her sexuality, is pee. Pissing on people, covertly in public places, holding it in till it feels like her bladder will explode, just to press on it. It's not about power exchange, it's about pee. She doesn't get along with the local watersports crowd, which in my mind created a funny binary of "watersports enthusiasts" and "oromashi kinksters". She has a lot going on about it: on the one hand, she is single-mindedly determined and internally very free about her piss, like she sure isn't fuckin' repressing it. She is more ashamed of writing dyke songs while not being a dyke, than the pee stuff. On the other hand, though, she never sees anyone she pees on again, and it doesn't seem like she's ever safely introduced the concept to a relationship. She meets this kid when she's like 22, Paige, and while Joan gets her name from and mentors Paige, it's not really like that, so it's awkward when Paige tries to fuck her. Moreso because Paige seems to ardently ignore the pee exploits. When Joan fucks off at the outset, it's as much about this as any shame or sex crime or public indecency, I figure. It might help if she didn't refer to people she liked as "puppy" internally, but Joan is big on people being puppylike.
She does fuck off though, escapes, and falls ass-backwards into a job teaching songwriting at some sort of opt-in summer school in a college, in Virginia. That's where she is, and between flashbacks with Paige in New York, she navigates her way around teaching a tiny class to write the titular Songs of No Provenance, manages to look professional and hide her utter obsession with Sparrow.
The other thing about Joan is that she's got Gender Trouble something fierce. "Like a jackal or a monster, but a lovely one?" It takes a while to get truly a the core of it, but Joan's other major "thing" is on display long before then; at first I thought it was fuckin' weird as fuck that she describes her sexuality as "male" so often, but that's a translation problem. My mind went automatically to a self-depreciating-trans-woman space about it, which is a beginner's mistake because Joan is not self-depreciating when she says that, when she pees on someone, or when her stream meets the earth. Which rocks. Eventually she outright describes her inner roiling sea as "It's gender stuff", which made me laugh happily at how direct it was. I think it's cool how her gender and sexuality--whatever label you might use for them--are so deeply tied, and to be real I kinda fuck with the way she's always describing herself as some slender, ragged coyote. Bit of a mood.
Sparrow is equally cool and interesting, when we get them. Sparrow's character is primarily about Gender; they do draw neat comics and stuff, they have friends among the college staff, but most of the substance for Sparrow is Gender. That they would have loved to experience "male puberty" but feel affected irrevocably by the upbringing they did have. It's kinda funny that they parse this as "And sure, yeah, I could be, like, this special, new kind of man. But I'm not that cool" because it's the polar opposite of whatever Hierarchy of Subversiveness shit you hear about. Cool. They're not super complicated, mostly due to the reader not getting much from their head, which is fine but sometimes left me feeling like Sparrow is an instrument for Joan to play about her gender. That's me being harsh, though; it's a book of Joan, and mostly Joan is drawn to Sparrow because they're alike, which again is refreshingly direct in contrast to Paul Polydoris' layers of ironypoisoning. Thinking about it for a second, it's pretty much t4t. Non-binary, and/or multigendered t4t. It's actually very beautiful, this way. "[...]as not sad, aging woman but a whole different category of beast". They are both of them lovely.
So, Songs is the story of what happens after Maria leaves her New York comfort zone, good future. Sorta. I guess New York just does this to people.
I have less to say about Paige; she's a huge figure in Joan's life, every flashback is dedicated to her, but their thing is kind of weird. She meets Paige as a streetkid (literally 16) with some kind of talent for songs, and they pretty much live together. Paige is mega gay for Joan, but Joan sees it more like mentorship, like she's a kid sister, so they just kind of simmer weirdly for like two decades. Paige is also seemingly better at the folk-punk-rock-whatever that they do though, so she gets record deals faster which causes a pretty weird rift. I squinted at this connection a lot, I think Joan is caught between desperately needing a friend and feeling trapped & fucked up about having to play lesbian for the privilege. Maybe that's her whole life, her career even. Damn, that's fucking harsh, I sincerely hate that for her and honestly for Paige too. On the whole, watching the ugly, uncomfortable past life Joan blasted away from unfold as the shiny possibilities of her new life in the present unfurl equally is cathartic, I think.
Both times of her life are heavily defined by the groups she's tenuously attached to; the other characters in the Gonewriters' collective she and Paige join, and the teachers at the college she and Sparrow teach at. So what do I think about the songwriterly aspects, the little fleshy bits of creation that Joan goes through with her students? Not a lot, given that I am perpetually fucked up about being incapable of creating or writing or doing anything. I do think it's fascinating, the titular authorless song thing, especially for someone as perpetually fucked up about status and kind of ego-centered as Joan. As if she knows what her deal is but can only try to fix it for other people, which I guess she near enough says at one point. The moment when it all approaches coming together is kinda beautiful, the students awed, the emotion of joy so unfamiliar in Joan's deeply tormented, utterly fetid mind palace.
I do think Joan is not the most reliable narrator. I mean, her perception of that last show before she books it outright tells us that she sees things a bit funny, but her mood and outlook tend to bounce violently between roses-and-sunshine and oh-shit-everything-is-fucked. She gives the impression of a beast hunted, never able to relax. Keeps bolting out of places and ~ situations ~, ever the skittish jackal. I kind of love her, I really do believe in the Joan that can be a good enough person for Sparrow. She works kinda hard at it. I don"t know if she does, though, and maybe she's right. I want badly for her to win, to keep what she has. But I guess if you drive all the way to fuckin' California or something, you either come back or New York comes for you.
Reading Songs of No Provenance was odd, it kept putting little cracks in my understanding until the wood splintered lengthwise, at which point I had to Learn And Understand. Rebuild the deck with new lumber. I felt humbled by it, utterly stupid by comparison even to someone as totally fucking dopey as Joan. I get humbled by stuff like this, like Paul, a lot, which in the long term is a good thing. I wonder slightly if the issue is taking all of the labels and terms at their prescriptive word, but who knows if the author has read the Gender Accelerationist, right? Maybe, though. They do seem pretty cool. A couple of times I thought it really would straight up kill me, emotional-sensory overload, but I was able to meet it on its level. It was well worth it. In the short term it kind of feels like my skull burst open to make room for the pristine and pliant white fungus growing from it, but I can deal. The skull is healthier for its expansion. Just look at those sinuate gills, beautiful. Now that's a fucking mushroom.
The only book I can think of that bears any remote resemblance to Songs of No Provenance is the fruity Andrea Lawlor masterwork Paul Takes The Form Of A Mortal Girl. Partially that's just me connecting the mind poisoning of their shared themes, even if the content of them is kind of perfect opposites. But they both approach Gender in a somewhat similar way, and they're both about neurotic New Yorkers run astray. Joan might also appreciate the praise of the piss-boner in Paul.
Songs doesn't say anywhere that it's a piss book, which is pretty funny because honestly it's a core part of Joan Vole's character. She's straight, she tells us so, but her true fixation, the guiding light of her sexuality, is pee. Pissing on people, covertly in public places, holding it in till it feels like her bladder will explode, just to press on it. It's not about power exchange, it's about pee. She doesn't get along with the local watersports crowd, which in my mind created a funny binary of "watersports enthusiasts" and "oromashi kinksters". She has a lot going on about it: on the one hand, she is single-mindedly determined and internally very free about her piss, like she sure isn't fuckin' repressing it. She is more ashamed of writing dyke songs while not being a dyke, than the pee stuff. On the other hand, though, she never sees anyone she pees on again, and it doesn't seem like she's ever safely introduced the concept to a relationship. She meets this kid when she's like 22, Paige, and while Joan gets her name from and mentors Paige, it's not really like that, so it's awkward when Paige tries to fuck her. Moreso because Paige seems to ardently ignore the pee exploits. When Joan fucks off at the outset, it's as much about this as any shame or sex crime or public indecency, I figure. It might help if she didn't refer to people she liked as "puppy" internally, but Joan is big on people being puppylike.
She does fuck off though, escapes, and falls ass-backwards into a job teaching songwriting at some sort of opt-in summer school in a college, in Virginia. That's where she is, and between flashbacks with Paige in New York, she navigates her way around teaching a tiny class to write the titular Songs of No Provenance, manages to look professional and hide her utter obsession with Sparrow.
The other thing about Joan is that she's got Gender Trouble something fierce. "Like a jackal or a monster, but a lovely one?" It takes a while to get truly a the core of it, but Joan's other major "thing" is on display long before then; at first I thought it was fuckin' weird as fuck that she describes her sexuality as "male" so often, but that's a translation problem. My mind went automatically to a self-depreciating-trans-woman space about it, which is a beginner's mistake because Joan is not self-depreciating when she says that, when she pees on someone, or when her stream meets the earth. Which rocks. Eventually she outright describes her inner roiling sea as "It's gender stuff", which made me laugh happily at how direct it was. I think it's cool how her gender and sexuality--whatever label you might use for them--are so deeply tied, and to be real I kinda fuck with the way she's always describing herself as some slender, ragged coyote. Bit of a mood.
Sparrow is equally cool and interesting, when we get them. Sparrow's character is primarily about Gender; they do draw neat comics and stuff, they have friends among the college staff, but most of the substance for Sparrow is Gender. That they would have loved to experience "male puberty" but feel affected irrevocably by the upbringing they did have. It's kinda funny that they parse this as "And sure, yeah, I could be, like, this special, new kind of man. But I'm not that cool" because it's the polar opposite of whatever Hierarchy of Subversiveness shit you hear about. Cool. They're not super complicated, mostly due to the reader not getting much from their head, which is fine but sometimes left me feeling like Sparrow is an instrument for Joan to play about her gender. That's me being harsh, though; it's a book of Joan, and mostly Joan is drawn to Sparrow because they're alike, which again is refreshingly direct in contrast to Paul Polydoris' layers of ironypoisoning. Thinking about it for a second, it's pretty much t4t. Non-binary, and/or multigendered t4t. It's actually very beautiful, this way. "[...]as not sad, aging woman but a whole different category of beast". They are both of them lovely.
So, Songs is the story of what happens after Maria leaves her New York comfort zone, good future. Sorta. I guess New York just does this to people.
I have less to say about Paige; she's a huge figure in Joan's life, every flashback is dedicated to her, but their thing is kind of weird. She meets Paige as a streetkid (literally 16) with some kind of talent for songs, and they pretty much live together. Paige is mega gay for Joan, but Joan sees it more like mentorship, like she's a kid sister, so they just kind of simmer weirdly for like two decades. Paige is also seemingly better at the folk-punk-rock-whatever that they do though, so she gets record deals faster which causes a pretty weird rift. I squinted at this connection a lot, I think Joan is caught between desperately needing a friend and feeling trapped & fucked up about having to play lesbian for the privilege. Maybe that's her whole life, her career even. Damn, that's fucking harsh, I sincerely hate that for her and honestly for Paige too. On the whole, watching the ugly, uncomfortable past life Joan blasted away from unfold as the shiny possibilities of her new life in the present unfurl equally is cathartic, I think.
Both times of her life are heavily defined by the groups she's tenuously attached to; the other characters in the Gonewriters' collective she and Paige join, and the teachers at the college she and Sparrow teach at. So what do I think about the songwriterly aspects, the little fleshy bits of creation that Joan goes through with her students? Not a lot, given that I am perpetually fucked up about being incapable of creating or writing or doing anything. I do think it's fascinating, the titular authorless song thing, especially for someone as perpetually fucked up about status and kind of ego-centered as Joan. As if she knows what her deal is but can only try to fix it for other people, which I guess she near enough says at one point. The moment when it all approaches coming together is kinda beautiful, the students awed, the emotion of joy so unfamiliar in Joan's deeply tormented, utterly fetid mind palace.
I do think Joan is not the most reliable narrator. I mean, her perception of that last show before she books it outright tells us that she sees things a bit funny, but her mood and outlook tend to bounce violently between roses-and-sunshine and oh-shit-everything-is-fucked. She gives the impression of a beast hunted, never able to relax. Keeps bolting out of places and ~ situations ~, ever the skittish jackal. I kind of love her, I really do believe in the Joan that can be a good enough person for Sparrow. She works kinda hard at it. I don"t know if she does, though, and maybe she's right. I want badly for her to win, to keep what she has. But I guess if you drive all the way to fuckin' California or something, you either come back or New York comes for you.
Reading Songs of No Provenance was odd, it kept putting little cracks in my understanding until the wood splintered lengthwise, at which point I had to Learn And Understand. Rebuild the deck with new lumber. I felt humbled by it, utterly stupid by comparison even to someone as totally fucking dopey as Joan. I get humbled by stuff like this, like Paul, a lot, which in the long term is a good thing. I wonder slightly if the issue is taking all of the labels and terms at their prescriptive word, but who knows if the author has read the Gender Accelerationist, right? Maybe, though. They do seem pretty cool. A couple of times I thought it really would straight up kill me, emotional-sensory overload, but I was able to meet it on its level. It was well worth it. In the short term it kind of feels like my skull burst open to make room for the pristine and pliant white fungus growing from it, but I can deal. The skull is healthier for its expansion. Just look at those sinuate gills, beautiful. Now that's a fucking mushroom.
September 19, 2025
I believe in the alchemy of the right book at the right time for the right reader.
May 12, 2026
The idea is unique, but it feels like the author was hoping that alone would carry the book. The writing is lazy and a bit too unbelievable, which lets the whole book down. Also annoyingly obsessed with the word ‘pedagogy’ and FYI 14 year-old kids aren’t crying at music camp because they don’t know what to do with ‘time’.
July 4, 2025
I wanted to like this book so much but to be honest, it felt very disjointed. I barely liked any of the characters, and although I don’t judge others for their kinks, there was just too much piss. I simply didn’t find myself rooting for Joan at all (and maybe that was the point)… The entire premise felt lost to me amongst what seemed like an unbelievable plot line. None of this would have shaken out how it did, it therefore felt completely unrealistic to me. For a book about songwriting and musicians, it seemed as though they were characteristics & themes used as a crutch for a much deeper story that didn’t land at all. Yes, the themes around gender was appreciated, (I wanted to see more of Sparrow on the page) but the overall message around the exploration of gender and sex felt buried under the weight of Joan’s ego. (Again, the music stuff as a whole was not practical whatsoever - maybe that’s because I’ve worked in the music industry for over 15 years and also taught. I’m not trying to be harsh, I just really struggled with this one - sorry Lydi).
Read
July 5, 2025dnf @ page 61. was not liking it at all. clapped the book shut with uretic relief 😉 when I got a notification that it was due back at the library.
July 28, 2025
Interesting to read but very strange and also a lot of focus on a sexual assault by the main character?
August 2, 2025
I’m wiling to bet this is the most beautifully written book about piss
Read
April 19, 2026who knew that a book about a piss kink would be so heartwarming
May 5, 2026
Kinda fell flat for me. I think I expected more development from the characters, especially in a book that centers around one's identity. Instead, I got Joan running away from a mistake she made then immediately teaching a songwriting class. I liked seeing Joan rationalize her actions before the climax, but I also feel like more should've been done with that plotline since it was the inciting incident of the entire thing.
Even the identity plotline, which seemed to be the most important one to the author, wasn't as developed as I would've liked. As soon as Joan stepped foot on camp, she saw someone and basically said "... is this love? is this what i've been missing my whole life? i must change! i must pee!"
I did think the songs of no provenance thing was interesting and I learned something new lol. I think it would've been cool if it was connected back to the main storyline, but the two seemed entirely separate.
Even the identity plotline, which seemed to be the most important one to the author, wasn't as developed as I would've liked. As soon as Joan stepped foot on camp, she saw someone and basically said "... is this love? is this what i've been missing my whole life? i must change! i must pee!"
I did think the songs of no provenance thing was interesting and I learned something new lol. I think it would've been cool if it was connected back to the main storyline, but the two seemed entirely separate.
February 17, 2026
Songs of no Provenance had an incredibly compelling premise, and it followed through with a strong start. As the book went on, I found myself less interested in the direction the book took. Established stakes weren't followed through on in meaningful ways, and there were few to no scenes in the latter 2/3rds of the book that held as much weight as those first few pages. The romance present in the book felt in opposition to what the story was trying to accomplish, though Sparrow as a character was a strong point of this book. The discussion on gender that is present was enjoyable, though a bit more surface level than expected based on other reviews.
TLDR: The first chunk of the book really earned my attention, but lost it with the rest.
TLDR: The first chunk of the book really earned my attention, but lost it with the rest.
April 22, 2025
Rare to encounter a novel that is so fun and so clever and so moving all at once. Joan Vole is a protagonist for the ages. She comes alive in the big, bold moments, but also in the different ways she interacts with every other character in the book. Cannot recommend enough!
June 15, 2025
honestly i did not like this as much as i hoped to. a little too much piss for a guy like me but i guess that is sort of the point. i appreciated the discussion of gender, as always, but beyond that not much in here reached me.
January 18, 2026
A book I would only recommend to maybe one person I know, but one which affected me deeply nonetheless. Came for the morally grey protagonist, was terrified by the constant pissing, stayed for the gender talk, cried by the end!
June 15, 2025
this wasn't for me.
November 25, 2025
too much peeing, not enough character development. the good part is that it's partly about gender identity.
December 20, 2025
This is a weird one! Joan is a washed up singer whose life kind of falls apart (her own doing), and then she winds up teaching songwriting at a summer camp. She spends much of the book trying to protect a secret that might cost her everything, and we watch her, as this morally grey character, struggle to finally hit her breaking point & tell the truth. This book is interested in questions of consent, accountability, and gender—explored in all their murkiness. I thought it was particularly interesting to see Joan’s conception of gender (no language surrounding a lack of binary, but more freedom to explore & express gender) alongside Sparrow’s (more language around nonbinary identity but every diversion from one’s perceived gender is a choice), as a kind of show about how our discourse on gender identity has changed since the 90s (not always, it seems, for the better).
I loved the ideas of songs of no provenance, and how ego can stand in the way of art. You sang and received no song ??? Will be thinking about that line forever.
We have to talk about it: the piss kink. Wow, I was very tired of reading about pee by the end of this book! I felt like it was distracting and detracted from the rest of the novel for me. I think Joan’s interest in kink was a means of showing her that she could be accepted and loved even with transgressive desires, if she’s willing to communicate and find someone willing to engage in them with her. I also think it was a kind of metaphor for the way female sexuality is seen as this explosive, shocking, inconvenience. However, I will struggle to think about this book w/out hearing the phrase “go piss girl” in my mind. Bad book to read while you have a UTI, for sure.
I also kind of didn’t buy Joan’s teaching arc, the fact that she wouldn’t be down to go on a conservative podcast, and I think the end felt a little too “and here’s the moral of the story” in some ways. But I really enjoyed the messy, entangled middle of this book and how Conklin was able to tease out such complexity in her characters.
I loved the ideas of songs of no provenance, and how ego can stand in the way of art. You sang and received no song ??? Will be thinking about that line forever.
We have to talk about it: the piss kink. Wow, I was very tired of reading about pee by the end of this book! I felt like it was distracting and detracted from the rest of the novel for me. I think Joan’s interest in kink was a means of showing her that she could be accepted and loved even with transgressive desires, if she’s willing to communicate and find someone willing to engage in them with her. I also think it was a kind of metaphor for the way female sexuality is seen as this explosive, shocking, inconvenience. However, I will struggle to think about this book w/out hearing the phrase “go piss girl” in my mind. Bad book to read while you have a UTI, for sure.
I also kind of didn’t buy Joan’s teaching arc, the fact that she wouldn’t be down to go on a conservative podcast, and I think the end felt a little too “and here’s the moral of the story” in some ways. But I really enjoyed the messy, entangled middle of this book and how Conklin was able to tease out such complexity in her characters.
August 24, 2025
i <3 sparrow
September 23, 2025
loved it
July 15, 2025
this book was a little disturbing for me and i hated it at first but the total immersion in a messed up character got to me in the end. i wouldn’t probably recommend this to most people but i feel transformed from having read it.
March 17, 2026
Selfhelp fiction for people who like Fiona Apple and piss
"I'm such a horrible person and peeing makes me so horny and I'm such an awful monster who writes the best music ever and likes pissing on people."
- Joan Vole for 350 pages
I would seriously be impressed if there are any stretches of 10 pages in this book where piss is not mentioned. It honestly is CONSTANT.
I think the blurb should start like this: "Songs of No Provenance tells the story of Joan Vole, an indie folk singer with a thing for piss, forever teetering on the edge of fame."
"I'm such a horrible person and peeing makes me so horny and I'm such an awful monster who writes the best music ever and likes pissing on people."
- Joan Vole for 350 pages
I would seriously be impressed if there are any stretches of 10 pages in this book where piss is not mentioned. It honestly is CONSTANT.
I think the blurb should start like this: "Songs of No Provenance tells the story of Joan Vole, an indie folk singer with a thing for piss, forever teetering on the edge of fame."
February 22, 2026
I owe a fine at the library for hanging onto this for too long and now I’m worried they’re also gonna think I’ve gotten pee ideas
I actually wasn’t quite sure it could be done but i may have finally found a book too weird for me. Was intrigued by the setting of summer camp in VA but connections basically stopped there. At the very least if you’re looking for something completely out of your norm, this is that
I actually wasn’t quite sure it could be done but i may have finally found a book too weird for me. Was intrigued by the setting of summer camp in VA but connections basically stopped there. At the very least if you’re looking for something completely out of your norm, this is that
December 12, 2025
I haven't finished it but I know I like it. It feels a bit overwritten, like, a REALLY good writer wrote this, someone who probably could have gotten their points across with less flowery language. But it's good.
Actually.... I'm done lol. I'm sure the plot is good but the writing is too flowery and dense and it's distracting.
Actually.... I'm done lol. I'm sure the plot is good but the writing is too flowery and dense and it's distracting.
November 16, 2025
Managed to get halfway through before eventually giving up. Just wasn’t for me. The classroom parts just didn’t fit and felt like they didn’t really add anything to the story (apart from when the fan showed up).
April 19, 2025
Got to read this one ahead of time, and to be honest I was delighted at the premise alone. I've read all of Conklin's output so far and their progression as a writer is fascinating to me -- I loved their short stories, but this feels like another register was achieved here. I love when writers are brave and write characters that are strange, disturbed, troubled, and behave badly. Who are (dare I say) problematic in some way. I believe that we all are, and that literature is at its best when it helps us to figure out our own messiness. Songs of No Provenance (SNP) deals with this head-on, situating us in the experience of Joan, an artist perhaps out of her time, who finds herself looking down the barrel of cancellation in the age of social media. But SNP is no critique of wokeness or taking responsibility -- far from it, it asks us to engage with personal responsibility, action, and the harm we do to others on a profound and nuanced level. In Joan, we find an illustration of the many and complex ways that desire, creativity, power, and lived experience can deform us, bless us, blind us, and awaken us. Joan's struggles with the meaning and value of her own art illuminate her struggles with who she is as a person, with what inside herself she is willing to tolerate. The pressure cooker of the closed environment she finds herself in, and the particular and unique personalities she must navigate there, push her into stages of self-discovery and realization. Conklin is a really deft writer of human psychology but I also love reading their writing about the body in all its messy, visceral, sometimes gorgeous erotic states. To some extent I feel that this is a novel for advanced readers in that its readers who can most handle nuance and complexity in the human character who will get the most out of it; then again, Conklin is as always a very funny writer, offering moments of empathy, grace, awkwardness and humour for any reader. I am so glad this novel has been written. I wish for more work like this, more novels that tackle difficult things and ask us questions about ourselves and the world that evade easy answers. I think this is the kind of novel that will lead to vigorous debate in book clubs and amongst friends, and that's the best kind, in my view. Joan is that best of literary inventions: it feels like she has always existed, that her fame is real and true, that she is fully alive. It was a delight reading this one and I really look forward to Conklin's next. Also, love a novel about fame and music, so it ticked all my boxes there.
August 2, 2026
Songs of No Provenance is an emotionally fearless and brilliantly crafted novel that explores the complicated relationship between artistic ambition, identity, accountability, and personal transformation. Lydi Conklin creates an unforgettable portrait of a deeply flawed yet compelling protagonist whose journey is as unsettling as it is profoundly human. Through Joan Vole's search for redemption and self understanding, the novel thoughtfully examines creativity, fame, desire, mentorship, and the responsibilities artists carry toward themselves and others. Conklin writes with remarkable psychological insight, allowing every character to emerge with complexity, vulnerability, and emotional authenticity. The story moves effortlessly between moments of tension, tenderness, humor, and introspection while raising thoughtful questions about art, ethics, and identity. Richly layered themes surrounding queer and nonbinary experiences are explored with nuance rather than simplification, giving the novel both literary depth and contemporary relevance. The vivid setting and engaging narrative create an immersive reading experience that remains compelling from beginning to end. Elegant prose and memorable character development elevate the story into a powerful work of literary fiction. Bold, compassionate, and intellectually engaging, Songs of No Provenance offers readers a deeply rewarding exploration of what it means to create, to fail, and to begin again. It is highly recommended for readers of literary fiction, LGBTQ+ literature, contemporary fiction, book clubs, universities, creative writing programs, libraries, music enthusiasts, writers, and anyone interested in stories about identity, creativity, relationships, and personal growth.
January 14, 2026
I wouldn’t recommend this to most of my friends. I understand perfectly how someone could be too prudish or squeamish to pick this up! I likely wouldn’t have picked it up myself, if Lydi hadn’t been my teacher at Writer’s Workshop, but I am so so glad I did.
This is one of the most compassionate books I have ever read. I think, on some level, we all pick up fiction to walk in someone else’s shoes, to live through an experience we might never have in our own life. And here, Conklin doesn’t shy away. Joan, our protagonist, is utterly fucked up. She’s narcissistic, she’s afraid of connection and she keeps fucking up. Yet, I found that the novel treated her so tenderly that I always understood her and rooted for her. Even the lesser characters—an annoying coworker, a morally gray best friend, a group of awkward teenagers—are treated with this gentle curiosity. A narrative that could’ve crumbled in a lesser hand, becomes full of surprise and nuance in Conklin’s.
I also loved how much this captured the joys and pitfalls of art. Conklin understands so well the balance of ego and humility that is involved in art making and the transcendence that can result if the right balance is found. I found myself eager to read just to dip into the lovely creative world of the camp.
Conklin’s writing is also so lush! I found myself underlining lines just because I was struck by their beauty or precision. It was really a joy to read.
I feel lucky to have had Lydi as a teacher and to have stumbled upon this book. I would highly recommend for anyone who can get over a little (okay a lot…) of pee.
This is one of the most compassionate books I have ever read. I think, on some level, we all pick up fiction to walk in someone else’s shoes, to live through an experience we might never have in our own life. And here, Conklin doesn’t shy away. Joan, our protagonist, is utterly fucked up. She’s narcissistic, she’s afraid of connection and she keeps fucking up. Yet, I found that the novel treated her so tenderly that I always understood her and rooted for her. Even the lesser characters—an annoying coworker, a morally gray best friend, a group of awkward teenagers—are treated with this gentle curiosity. A narrative that could’ve crumbled in a lesser hand, becomes full of surprise and nuance in Conklin’s.
I also loved how much this captured the joys and pitfalls of art. Conklin understands so well the balance of ego and humility that is involved in art making and the transcendence that can result if the right balance is found. I found myself eager to read just to dip into the lovely creative world of the camp.
Conklin’s writing is also so lush! I found myself underlining lines just because I was struck by their beauty or precision. It was really a joy to read.
I feel lucky to have had Lydi as a teacher and to have stumbled upon this book. I would highly recommend for anyone who can get over a little (okay a lot…) of pee.
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