A young woman struggles with the artistic success of her more privileged, beautiful best friend in this ruthless portrait of the New York art scene in which relationships are transactional, men are vampiric, and women have limited time to trade on their youth, beauty, and talent—it’s Renata Adler’s Speedboat for the Adderall generation
Avery is a grad student in New York working on a collection of cultural reports and flailing financially and emotionally. She dates older men for money, and others for the oblivion their egos offer. In an act of desperation, Avery takes a job at a right-wing dating app. The "white-paper" she is tasked to write for the startup eventually merges with her dissertation, resulting in a metafictional text that reveals itself over the course of the novel.
Meanwhile, her best friend, Frances, an effortlessly chic emerging filmmaker from a wealthy Southern family, drops out of grad school, gets married, and somehow still manages to finish her first feature documentary. Frances's triumphant return to New York as the toast of the art world sends Avery into a final tailspin, pushing her to make a series of devastating decisions.
In this generational portrait, attention spans are at an all-time low and dopamine tolerance is at an all-time high. Flat Earth is a story of coming of age in America, a novel about commodification, conspiracy theories, mimetic desire, and the difficulties of female friendship that’s as sharp and sardonic as it is heartbreaking.
Well, that’s it. I’m officially old. I hated everyone in this book. They all needed to wash their faces, get themselves together and accomplish something.
Flat Earth was my MOST ANTICIPATED book of the latter part of the year. I have been following the author on Twitter since probably before she was writing a book and honestly the synopsis sounded like the type of book I would write (or have secretly written under a pen name WHO’S TO SAY) anyway—I clawed my way to securing an ARC audiobook (an ALC if you must) AND winning a goodreads giveaway of a physical copy. I know that I manifested it because I wanted it THAT badly.
Based on the description, I was hoping for a novel that dealt with insecurity and introspection, academia and the internet, navigating life in our newly insane, conspiracy-laden world—something like Elif Batuman (whose books are mentioned IN THE BOOK) if she wrote about the 2020s instead of the 1990s. Something about trying and failing and interrogating the whole cycle. What I got was a protagonist who was already jaded beyond trying or caring at all. Whose eyes were glazed over and whose brain was shrunken to a pea size from the very first page (and that didn't unglaze or grow by the end). Yes, Flat Earth is YET ANOTHER entry into the trend of mid-2020s miserable nihilistic and cynical fiction.
Don’t know why I expected anything else in 2025 when everything I’ve read has been a mean spirited book about someone who snarkily derides everyone and everything they encounter. In the same vein as every other post-Red Scare, Muumuu House-era contemporary litfic published over the past year or so, Flat Earth illustrates an internet-poisoned world from the point of view of someone who has not escaped the poisoning and views everyone as vapid and nasty and reacts in an equally vapid and nasty way. Read Perfection, read Good Girl, read Happiness and Love, read Banal Nightmare, read Paradise Logic and then read Flat Earth. There's like some edgelord misery canon forming.
I’m so sick of these shallow books that take our hyperreal world at face value and don’t do anything with it—or don’t do anything with it and then call it satire (the Rene Girard reference in the blurb is a WARNING). “I want all the men I sleep with to beat me up, I want to take a bunch of benzos and have a My Year of Rest and Relaxation, all my friends are famous in the art world and all I can do is bang old married men who read books about hitler bc I’m a hot young stupid woman and honestly it’s all I really want to be tee heee”. This sucks to read about.
Anyway, thank you to Netgalley and Brilliance for the ALC, this was truly a book I wanted to read desperately I’m glad I got the chance. Thank you to goodreads for the giveaway win, I will be tossing it right in the trash jk I will be selling it on Pango.
The audiobook is narrated in a bored vocal fry which is the correct choice though insufferable, BUT she mispronounces “buccal fat” which is unforgivable in a book like this whose protagonist probably spends 1 hour a day every day minimum thinking about buccal fat.
Writer and editor Anika Jade Levy’s debut novel grew out of earlier stories. It’s fractured, fragmentary, very much following in the footsteps of writers like Renata Adler, Elizabeth Hardwick and Sheila Heti. It’s narrated by Avery who’s initially in grad school in New York, spending much of her time with ultra-wealthy friend Frances. Avery’s chronicle of her life’s interspersed with a series of accounts of distinctly unsettling developments in the America she inhabits, giving this an off-kilter, dystopian feel. Avery herself could easily double as a textbook study of anhedonia, she has a curiously detached reaction to events in her life and around her. It seems a desolate existence, Avery invests in notions of femininity meant to make her more appealing to men, particularly the predatory older men she depends on to fund her studies. A strategy she accepts as inevitable in a society in which everybody has a price or a valuation, for her that price rests on the fading currency of her youthful body. A perspective that’s underlined by Frances’s ongoing project, a documentary entitled Flat Earth which aims to showcase an increasingly right-wing, decaying America. A country riddled with conspiracy theorists and mired in poverty. Back in New York Avery’s connected to the brief flowering of a post-pandemic subculture centred on Dimes Square, an area of the city close to the Lower East Side – a movement renowned in reality for its disturbingly conservative undercurrents. There Avery rubs shoulders with up-and-coming writers and artists – artists who she perceives as akin to the Flat Earthers, equally convinced that their view of the world is somehow unique and privileged. Yet another subsection of a deluded, delusionary culture.
Avery’s suffering from the Adderall shortage, coping without stimulants highlights everyday brutalities. Frances abruptly departs, marries a labourer and returns to South Carolina where she grew up, her wedding marked by the jaunty bridesmaids whose dresses conceal Confederate flag bikinis. Avery meanwhile takes a job for a right-wing dating app “Patriarchy.” The app’s doing well attracting incels and porn-obsessed loner men but it’s lacking women who’ll go out with them. Its approach underlines Avery’s conflicted views about womanhood, and her lack of faith in feminism as an antidote to her existential angst. Levy’s characterised her book as a portrait of what it’s like to exist in the midst of widespread collapse: social, romantic, spiritual. And in that sense, this is entirely successful, acerbic, rueful, aphoristic, even in its lighter moments it’s a pretty bleak take on America in the early 2020s. But it’s also predictive of unhinged, creeping fascism as it starts to really bite in a country where money is essential to have any hope of surviving. As a variation on a coming-of-age story this is often arresting, there are some truly memorable passages. But I’d have liked Levy to dig just a little deeper, a lot’s gestured towards that really needs more sustained consideration. But even though this didn’t totally work for me, it’s still an impressive debut and I’ll be interested to see what Levy does next.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Abacus Books for an ARC
at its core flat earth is a coming of age story, following a woman coming to terms with the end of her girlhood as the world teeters on the edge of complete ruin.
it follows avery, a grad student in her 20s who’s struggling with the success of her more privileged best friend, frances, in the new york art scene. avery wants to be a writer but doesn’t ever actually write much (relatable), instead spending her time with older men who treat her badly and taking a job at a startup right-wing dating app.
the writing is very acerbic and meta in the way a lot of these gen z-esque books are. it’s told in fragments, flitting between avery moving through the world and witty social commentary on politics, culture, capitalism, the internet, environmental collapse etc. - basically a satirical comment on the ennui of our current zeitgeist. i read it in about 2 sittings and enjoyed my time with it, highlighting many passages as i read.
an inscrutable book with a jaded, porous narrator who seems to have no definition or understanding of herself and a tendency towards the reactionary, in a way that's sometimes sharp and sometimes eye roll-inducing. i really can't decide whether i liked this book and felt like the satire worked or if it makes me want to throw something. honestly i do find that red scare listener lower east side irony poisoned type of person so irritating and morally repugnant in general that i'm not really the ideal audience for this book because i can never fully immerse myself in the satire of this social scene because like, there's not really much interesting about these people to satirize? like if i had to read one more line in those little interstitial sections that was like "we were skinny and sad and solipsistic. we wanted a pink kitchenaid stand mixer and a million dollars and for a man who reminded us of our fathers to hit us in bed" i was going to scream.
but at the same time there is some interesting stuff here about the emptiness of avery, our protagonist, and her friendship with frances and simultaneous jealousy and admiration of her. i wish there was more of that, and the stuff w sally and her mother, that was good too. and the prose outside of those mostly cringy interstitial sections was solid, it was nimble and page-turning. ultimately, i did like this one, or at least found it a quick and engaging read, but it also vexed me quite a bit.
This is a hard one to review tbh, it’s a quick read - a little too quick. I enjoyed my time with it but ended up wanting more meat to the story, it’s trying to make some points about modern internet/reddit culture but it felt like it’s over before the story really got started.
My library hold for this isn't ready yet (happy pub day btw) but the reviews are SENDING ME TO THE MOON why are they so scathing and so funny djdlfddkdvfkajals
It’s a quick read, dare I say too quick, and I ended up wanting more from it. It dives into modern internet and Reddit culture, exploring how identity, validation, and self-worth get warped online, especially for young women. It captures that sense of existing in an endlessly collapsing America, where everything from your body to your opinions to your productivity gets turned into a kind of social currency.
Our main character is hyper-aware, self-destructive, and constantly analyzing the world around her through this mix of irony and pain. Levy writes her with a satirical edge—she’s not meant to be likable, but she feels familiar.
The book touches on themes like internalized misogyny, female friendship, online performance, and the pressure to find meaning in a system designed to burn you out. My main issue is that while the writing is strong, the story never fully comes together. It’s all voice and commentary, not much plot, and sometimes it feels like the author is juggling too many ideas at once.
Enjoyed my time reading it, I just wish I got more out of it.
An almost uncomfortable level of relatable, Flat Earth is very Woman Vs. The Void-- our narrator feels as if she is decomposing in an ever-collapsing America, where it seems that every social group determines a woman's worth on youth, fertility, and use. Levy successfully conveys everyday psychological struggles in young people, particularly young women, in a way that doesn't necessarily provide readers with hope, but with the reminder that you are not alone in this erratic, capitalistic hellscape.
A frustratingly accurate portrayal of contemporary ennui, Flat Earth can be safely situated somewhere between Honor Levy (derogatory) and Patricia Lockwood (complimentary).
It's a tone thing/issue for me with this one. Also a stylistic problem. I'm sure the plot is fine. In any case, it just wasn't the one for me. DNF after about thirty pages or so.
This book is aptly named, because it fell flat for me. While it aims to explore some interesting themes (reactionary internet culture, the rise of backwards gender norms, forgotten middle America), Levy never goes beyond the superficial. She focuses instead on how ugly and old she thinks she is at the age of 26 1/2. This reads much like the Red Scare podcast, but is somehow even more boring and ignorant.
i have to say this book at its core was deeply unserious yet so serious in the grand scheme of things. the following of Avery who is the embodiment of “i’m just a girl” and “girl who’s going to be okay” was an extremely wild ride as Avery and the other supporting characters confront and break down many relevant happenings by living on the pages. i also think this cast of characters were also used beautifully as vessels to convey complex narratives and ideologies and i adored the writing format a lot.
this book made me think of so many other pieces of work that i’ve had the liberty to read and in the reviews some books were mentioned that i need to read asap!
books that come to mind: - My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh - Happy Hour by Marlowe Granados - The Babysitter at Rest by Jen George
highly recommend this one if you have read any of the above books or if you just want some weird girl lit fic vibes.
Publication date: 11/4/25. Thank you #NetGalley and #BrillancePublishing for an early release of this book. Ellie Gossage did a fantastic job with the audio of this book but I’ll be honest — I couldn’t appreciate much about this storyline. Let me be clear: the writing itself was solid, but the plot felt far too dysfunctional for dysfunction’s sake. It seemed like the author was trying too hard to make the main character feel “edgy and broken.”
Meet Avery: a 26-year-old, hyper-sexual, fat-phobic, hypochondriac protagonist who seems to take pride in exploiting others — and mostly herself. “Will trade fucks for Adderall and mediocre sushi, as long as it comes with a shit ton of abuse and the promise of a dollar.” She scorns others for their lack of intellect in art and writing, yet shows no interest in cultivating an ounce of self-respect.
It’s sad, really — Avery reads as a deeply unwell person, but instead of insight or growth, the story just wallows in her chaos. I’m left wondering what the purpose behind this book truly was.
ultimately flatter (pun intended) of a book than i was hoping for. i am this author’s biggest fan and this was maybe my most anticipated read of 2025. but tragically the satire i have always loved from this genre of weird cynical disillusioned girl book felt less like ironic social commentary and more like peter-panning your way into not having to introspect.
This book is not going to be for everyone (just look at the Goodreads ratings!). The narrative has a distinct, satirical voice and the main character makes incredibly self-destructive decisions. I can totally understand why people would find her annoying! That said, this book absolutely worked for me. I devoured it in one sitting. The humour absolutely landed, and I found the main character fascinating to follow. There’s a sort of nihilism to the narrative that I found intriguing. Watching the world crumble around her, the main character chooses shallow pursuits. I’m interested in reading more from this author!
I’m not sure I want to call this a novel. About 100 pages into this insipid book, the author quotes Kenneth Goldsmith: “The world doesn’t need any new writing, just new arrangements of writing.” Anika Jade Levy very clearly took that to heart, cobbling together what can only be described as a mixture of topics she and every other cuspy Zillennial writer has been interested in recently and has already written about ad nauseam. I suppose I disagree with Goldsmith because Flat Earth was worse than all the other books I’ve read about those topics, combined. Maybe that quote should come with a caveat about the arrangements being good? Housemates does a better job at investigating middle America, as well as the way different kinds of arts can be used to explain or question. Plus, the characters are lovable, despite their pretentiousness & stupidity (unlike Avery & Frances). Happiness & Love is a funnier & smarter attack on the New York art scene, all the while being technically excellent (something Flat Earth is not). The foil character of Frances is flat & her storyline confusing. Her role as a plot device to make fun of artists is too obvious. And Delusions, which I finished before this book, is a better portrayal of what it’s like to be mentally ill in a society obsessed with consumerism disguised as wellness.
More of a 2.5 rounded up. This book does some interesting things writing wise, but overall is a satire of something a bit too horrifying for my tastes. It reminds me a lot of Eliza Clarke’s work. For some reason, I thought the dystopian elements would be environmental, but it’s really about oppressing yourself as a woman to try to survive under patriarchy. One thing I’ve thought about quite a bit writing wise recently is the idea (to paraphrase) of committing to the bit. If you’re going to write a story that’s honestly the story you want to tell, you need to tell it with your full chest. This does that, and as a consequence, it’s sickening. That being the point doesn’t make it any more fun to read along.
very funny, acerbic, bleak. extremely unique and rather exciting formatting and way of telling a story. similar in tone to my year of rest and relaxation (ottessa moshfegh) and boy parts (eliza clark)
I think my feelings are captured by a lot of the other reviews here, though I don’t feel as harsh. I went in expecting this to be exceedingly mediocre, and was pleasantly surprised to find some to like here. The main story really doesn’t feel like much, and I think that is due to the lack of weigh placed on anything, and the relative speed through which events are passed and the colorlessness through which they are all seen.
This is an incredibly imagistic book; we are told about things happening that are incredible or uncanny or unsettling, but are only left with the image and none of the surroundings, none of the warmth and none of the weight.
Perhaps all of that is intentional, to get us in the mind of the narrator as she floats through life, but that has been done before and been done better.
I quite liked the cultural review sections, where we were told what the world is like.