The Mookse and the Gripes discussion

Per the Chair of Judges:

Rachel Cusk’s Kudos is the final part of a trilogy, both of whose earlier parts were shortlisted in previous years, and it was clear to the judges that this vein of writing, undertaking a cool survey of the unbalanced present, is far from exhausted. In its early pages the book mentions the EU referendum campaign, but Kudos treats politics glancingly as a metaphor for the hidden inequalities within relationships and even the discontinuities within individuals – “the question of whether to leave or remain was one we usually asked ourselves in private”.

From the grammatically incomprehensible:

“Her description of the town where she lived-a place I had never been to, though I knew it wasn’t far from here-and of its beauty had been particularly tenacious”(62)

To the observationally questionable:

“I’ve noticed that the people who love children the most often respect them the least”(137)

And there’s plenty more where that random selection came from.

Jonathan - your perspective on this book has been annihilated I fear.

Jonathan wrote: "From the grammatically incomprehensible..."

I had no trouble parsing that sentence. The grammar is very clear.

To the observationally questionable:

I think she's 100% right on that point.

One interesting point here is whether one judges Kudos stand-alone or as the concluding part of a trilogy.

My temptation is the former.

And if it were any of the other great series of the millennium to date - Marias's Your Face Tomorrow, Murakami's 1Q84, Knausgaard's My Struggle, Ferrante's Neapolitan Tetralogy - there would be little argument: all those are clearly one novel published in instalments. Separating them once completed makes no more sense that doing the same with say Dickens novels.

But here I think Outline / Transit / Kudos are three separate books, and my temptation to judge them as a whole is more a function of how they have been scandalously overlooked by awards.

My main reservation about Kudos is that it doesn't really add to what Cusk did in Outline and Transit, and as such cannot be regarded as innovative writing. Yes it is very well written but for me it was the least interesting of the three if only because it seemed more predictable.

Indeed - so does one judge it as stand alone (not that innovative vs other two parts - and why it only got 4 stars from me) or as the last part of one of the most innovative books of the millennium (5 stars are too few).

I think like many of us I re read the other two books immediately before this so effectively as a single book.

I have only read Outline and Transit so far, but I agree with Paul that they felt to me like separate books rather than parts of the same book. Beyond the stylistic similarity, there is no good reason to see them as one book.

I also agree with Hugh about it seeming odd to call it "innovative" the third time an author uses the same narrative structure. I am reminded here of the films of Terrence Malick. He has a very distinctive and unique style such that it is easy to tell you are seeing a Terrence Malick film, but after how many films can you still call his style "innovative"? The first time, yes, and maybe the second time as well because it's still new enough, but in his case it would be odd more than 40 years later to say it's still innovative. Having read Outline and Transit it feels to me like Cusk has done something new the first time, done it better the second time, and now the third time still might be a great book, but I feel going into it I won't be surprised with an innovative approach.

If she had not been nominated the previous two times, then maybe I'd say this was ok to finally recognize that she is doing something new, but after two nominations this style has been well acknowledged by Goldsmiths and they don't need to do it a third time.

Would disagree about that example, as "a place" refers to "the town where she lived" rather than to "its beauty". I reckon it could have been more elegant to rearrange the whole set of ideas into more than one sentence, but that's just having a different writing style. And I haven't read it in context. The dashes give it immediacy whereas a different construction could sound more ponderous.

David wrote: "Beyond the stylistic similarity, there is no good reason to see them as one book.."

Obviously there are strong links: same narrator, there is linear progress in her story (as best we can infer it) from one volume to another, characters reappear. But they still feel like separate stand-alone novels - and are also branded as such (which Marias, Murakami. Knausgaard and Ferrante's books are not). I would think of it more like the Patrick Melrose novels from St Aubyn, or the Old Filth novels of Gardam or the Gilead trilogy of Robinson.

On whether it should be judged as the series or stand-alone I have seen two separate comments from the judges in the press today which seem to have different implications:

One refers to a style of narrator that is “new to literature” and hence to the trilogy as a whole.

The other, at the top of the thread that, 'this vein of writing ... is far from exhausted' and seemingly suggesting the new part in this book is the topicality e.g. Brexit, which I thought was the weakest aspect of the book.

Jonathan wrote: "Cusk in Kudos:
“Her description of the town where she lived-a place I had never been to, though I knew it wasn’t far from here-and of its beauty had been particularly tenacious”

should read:
"Her description of the town where she lived, and of its beauty- a place I had never been to, though I knew it wasn't from here- had been particularly tenacious""

Jonathan - I think hers works better than (or at least as well as) yours I'm afraid. With yours I am wondering if the 'place' she lived was 'its beauty' rather than the town. To be fair its her clunky sentence and really needs taking apart entirely. I think her 'far' also is quite important which you deleted albeit assume that was a typo.

Paul wrote: "Obviously there are strong links: same narrator..."

The odd thing is that because the narrator is so much in the background, as it were, the fact that it is the same narrator is neither something that stands out or that matters. As I read Outline having already read Transit I never really thought of the narrators as the same person. It just never mattered.

Jonathan wrote: "The notion of “respect” for children is a curious one. Respect normally has to be earned; normally it’s for our elders and betters. In the context of respecting children, while not impossible, it seems a weird descriptive term."

You seem to be stuck on this meaning of "respect": a feeling of deep admiration for someone or something elicited by their abilities, qualities, or achievements and overlooking this one: due regard for the feelings, wishes, rights, or traditions of others. I would have thought it obvious she means the latter, especially if the former seems an odd fit. We talk all the time about respecting a person's rights, respecting their wishes, and respecting their feelings that it should be clear this is what she is talking about. And again, I think she is right about this.

Antonomasia wrote: "Would disagree about that example, as "a place" refers to "the town where she lived" rather than to "its beauty". I reckon it could have been more elegant to rearrange the whole set of ideas into m..."

I agree.

Jonathan wrote: "The second definition of respect- couched in terms of due regard for feelings, rights, traditions seems equally incompatible with Cusk’s referencing of children."

If it is possible to lack due regard for a child's feelings, rights, or wishes then the talk about respect and children is perfectly compatible. So I can only conclude that you think it is not possible to lack a due regard for a child's feeling or rights or wishes. That's a strange view.

Mimi wrote: "Surely one of the features of autofiction is that it questions the whole notion of an objective, universal perspective?"

This will, no doubt, seem like a strange response to your question, but here goes. I have no interest in the "auto" part of "autofiction". Not here and not ever. When I read Transit and Outline I read them as 100% fiction. If the contents of those books are based on, or even direct descriptions of Rachel Cusk's life I'd say I neither know or care. As works of pure fiction, I thought both books were great and I loved the idea of the role of the narrator in her books.

So I don't really know if autofiction is connected to the idea of there being no objective, universal perspective, but I would say that I don't think she is going for anything as strong as that in these books (well, in the two of the series I have read so far). Insofar as Faye has any opinions at all on the people she meets, the events she describes, and the world at large, they are meant to be her opinions and her perspective.

With regard to the observation about respect for children, I think that the comment Faye makes is true, Jonathan thinks it is not true, but either way it is what Faye thinks. I'm not sure how important it is for us, as readers, to agree with the perspective of the narrator to find merit in the book, but it does seem that Jonathan is saying the fact he disagrees with her on this was a reason for not finding the book to be strong.

The world is amazing, i have spent many hours watching a dramatic televised hearing of a sexual harassment complaint against a nominee to the US Supreme Court. I am exhausted, emotionally spent, and seeing double, but checking here I see a discussion on Cusk and it feels I have escaped from a fantasy that is actually the real world to a more seemingly real conversation about fiction.
Place me with those that see the trilogy as a whole. Although the books can stand alone, I think the experiment on the concept of narrator subjectivity/objectivity develops in each book and culmunates in the very last scene of Kudos. I'll refrain from discussing the scene till more have read the book, but that scene, just in the choice of what happens, seems to be Cusk's last statement on the whole matter.

Jonathan wrote: designed to be an illustration of my doubts about Rachel Cusk’s detached perspective (I struggle to keep calling it ‘annihilated’).."

Interestingly I think detached and annihilated are a little different in that one can have one without the other. Cusk the person and Faye the narrator can seem a little detached, scarred even (and that is the auto-fictional element).

But the annihilation - and yes I agree that is a rather hyped term - absent would be far better but Will Eaves got their first - is the undoubted and genuinely innovative fact that despite Outline, in particular, being written in the first person, the narrator's perspective is almost entirely absent and can only be inferred from what she reports. And of course those reports of conversations are as Mimi said somewhat artificial and structured - hence they are actually subjective.

Which is a big contrast with the bulk of literary fiction which is written in the third person but from one character's perspective.

Jonathan wrote: "“What is pain other than history without memory”"

Because that makes no sense - if I kicked you in the shins you would have pain. And indeed you would - due to the pain - likely retain the memory of me kicking you.

Whereas her formulation was very elegant - history, in the sense of dry history written in say school books - is indeed memory without pain, i.e. we remember the facts but not what the experience was like. The triumph of good historical fiction is actually to reunite the history with the pain the people involved would have experienced.

The context is actually her publisher (not her - of course very little in the book is Faye herself hence the annihilated/absent perspective) talking about evolving literary taste.

He is not talking about things like The Somme or the Holocaust. Indeed the sentence would actually be equivalent/better rendered 'nostaglia is memory without pain' as that is closest to the context of the type of history he is talking about.

There was, he added, a generalised yearning for the ideal of literature, as for the lost world of childhood, whose authority and reality tended to seem so much greater than that of the present moment. Yet to return to that reality even for a day would for most people be intolerable, as well as impossible: despite our nostalgia for the past and for history, we would quickly find ourselves unable to live there for reasons of discomfort, since the defining motivation of the modern era, he said, whether consciously or not, is the pursuit of freedom from strictures or hardships of any kind.

‘What is history other than memory without pain?’ he said, smiling pleasantly and folding his small white hands together on the table in front of him. ‘If people want to recapture some of those hardships, these days they go to the gym.’ Similarly, he went on, to experience the nuances of literature without the hard work involved in reading, say, Robert Musil, was for a number of people very pleasurable.

Sam wrote:" I'll refrain from discussing the scene till more have read the book, but that scene, just in the choice of what happens, seems to be Cusk's last statement on the whole matter.."

Sam - feel free to contribute now. This is a spoilers-allowed zone and I'd love to hear your take on the ending.

Mimi - on your review and why she uses this particular form rather than non-fiction - blame Mumsnet.

When Outline was first published, she told The Guardian that she felt fiction was fake and embarrassing. Once you have suffered sufficiently, the idea of making up John and Jane and having them do things together seems utterly ridiculous.

Yet my mode of autobiography had come to an end. I could not do it without being misunderstood and making people angry, referring to the aftermath (pun intended), including the bizarre Mumsnet backlash, to her previous book and in particular the problem that there was so much stuff in my own life that the divide [between life and the book] was completely breached.

She instead suggested Outline's annihilated perspective [might be the] beginning of something interesting ... I'm certain autobiography is increasingly the only form in all the arts. Description, character – these are dead or dying in reality as well as in art.

the last part I find hyperbole - you can say (as she does in the previous sentences) that you have found other forms a dead-end without proclaiming (a la Will Self) the death of a medium for everyone else as well.

Jonathan wrote: "What is history other than memory without pain?

“What is history other than memory of the pain?" "

Paul has replied to this pretty much as I would, but let me add a further comment. Jonathan, with your examples of events like the Holocaust and the killing fields in Cambodia it seems like you are reading Cusk's phrase "without pain" as if she is saying that remembering isn't ever painful. But that's not it. The idea is that when we talk about history we typically do so without experiencing the pain that would have gone along with those events as people lived trough them. When someone says that the Black Death killed 100-200 million people, we can hear that statistic very matter-of-factly and not feel the pain that those who died of the pain felt nor that of those who lost loved ones. It's just a fact on a list to us in the context of history.

I am reminded of a line from one of the great TV shows of all time. Josh was shot and nearly died. As a result he suffers from PTSD. This exchange happens after a long session with Stanley, a trauma specialist:

JOSH: I know that you want me to talk about my feelings.

STANLEY: No I don't, Josh. The last thing I want you to do is talk about your feelings. I think if you heard a tape recording of this day, you wouldn't hear the word 'feelings.' What we need to be able to get you to do is to remember the shooting without reliving it. And you have been reliving it.

For most people, that's what history is like. We think about (remember) it without living (reliving) it. We strip it of the emotion to process it as facts. Her sentence is simple, elegant, beautiful, and true. Your suggested alternative is simply false.

Mimi wrote: "David interesting response but prompts a question, if you're unfamiliar with the conventions of the genre how can you say with any degree of certainty what the role of Faye as narrator represents? After all there are such things as unreliable narrators."

There are reliable narrators and there are unreliable ones in both autofiction and in fiction. In autofiction, the mere fact that the conceit is that some of this is actually true and some of it is not makes the narrator clearly highly unreliable if you want to use the book as a factual document. But within the context of the story narrators in fiction and autofiction can both be unreliable, so one need not know or care that some (maybe even most) of the story is true to appreciate it as fiction. The only thing the "auto" adds is the idea that you might actually learn something about the author through reading the book, and that is just not an interest of mine.

I am here Paul. Just pacing myself. Below is an article linked from today's lithub articles that includes the spoiler. It also comments on the autobiographical fiction background relating to Cusk.




https://www.thenation.com/article/rac...

Well the man's close friend, who he talks about quite a bit, is an airline pilot and he himself, until his retirement, spent a lot of time on aeroplanes. And his wife is a big reader. So while I can't get why people name animals, if you do then this seems as good a name as any for a dog.

And Cusk's own The Country Life, 'drew on Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre' (per the article Sam linked to) although the dog there was called Roy.

There is also a poster on this forum whose profile picture is of his family dog named Darcy after Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, so he may be best to enlighten us.

Sorry it wasn't meant to be, so apologies if it came across that way.

Was more a family in joke as the other poster concerned with Darcy the Dog, is my identical twin and while we agree about many things, having a dog is not one of them. I'm not a pet person.

I was genuinely interested in the Pilot thing myself when you pointed it out - not such a Jane Eyre fan that I had got that reference, hence I had assumed it more as a jab from the character's wife to his best friend and to his constant travelling. The context of the conversation was, as I recall, that this was the first plane flight he had taken for some time as he has retired to spend more time with the family and the dog was presumably to a small extent a substitute companion for the family in his absence.

And Jonathan - two concessions from me:

Absent Perspective would be better.

'Nostalgia is memory without pain' is a better phrase
(although the original was from a smug publisher, who is not the narrator, who in turn is not the author, so I don't think is intended to be taken as Cusk's definitive view of the world)

Darcey is named after a ballerina.

Or a guitarist from an alt-rock band?

Mimi wrote: "Actually maybe someone could clear one thing up that's been niggling - why is the dog called Pilot? I assume it's a reference to 'Jane Eyre' but why?"

My concerns about grammar and the originality and acuity of Cusk's observations have been met with robust rejection.

I'm inclined to withdraw from the fray, but since you mention the dog, "Pilot"- the naming of the dog is the least of my issues with this part of the book which I put down to bad story telling pure and simple.
My initial reaction to the first part of Kudos in which Faye's fellow airplane traveler unburdens himself, was that the story revolving around Pilot, was truly awful. I cannot believe, judging from the description, including the death and supposed DIY burial of a large dog- in the garden, that Rachel Cusk has ever owned a dog. 
Despite the fact that:
“People who didn’t know him were terrified of him, because he would have killed them without hesitation”(14), Pilot is allowed off the lead, and savages sheep and deer with impunity. The dog’s violence is seemingly matched by the owners subsequent battering of the animal.
There are examples of dangerous dogs, and sometimes tragedies when a dog escapes. Fortunately they are rare. I can only say that Pilot's owner would soon find himself friendless , and the law on his doorstep.
It was just so unbelievable in a context designed to re-introduce the reader to the detached perspective concept.

I read Transit two years ago and in this part of the trilogy Cusk also writes about dogs. My review response to that was "There's an amazing section that describes the beauty and discipline of Saluki dogs I thought this was great descriptive writing, and that's why I am of the opinion that the quality of the trilogy is deteriorating as each sequel is published, and why I cannot believe its a serious contender to win the Goldsmiths in 2018

J“People who didn’t know him were terrified of him, because he would have killed them without hesitation”(14), Pilot is allowed off the lead, and savages sheep and deer with impunity. "

I suspect Cusk was thinking of Fenton....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3GRSb...

She should get an extra star from reminding us of that video..

She is in fact allergic (quite strongly I think) to dogs but I believe they always feature in her books.

or https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dangero...

a flagship Act resulting from politicians doing what they are always urged to do by the public, setting aside their political differences and coming together to force through a piece of important legislation (in reaction to some silly season stories in the tabloids)

Just had the idea (possibly said by someone before though can't remember reading it) that Cusk's experience of being talked about on Mumsnet could be seen as contributing to the "annihilated perspective" - a book made up of other people talking around and about the protagonist. Could be seen as a response to social media and the cacophony of online media generally as well.

Mimi, I do agree about a lot of contemporary fiction being disappointing. Yet I often find myself talking about it because it's easier and more interesting to relate it to current events & culture than it is a hundred-year-old novel.

Something I've said plenty of times on GR is that reading only or nearly all contemporary fiction (as professional critics and some others do) means that it then becomes a benchmark for the reader's standards. Whilst to someone who reads a lot of older books too (generally winnowed by time, with the better ones surviving) many of the brand new books won't look *as* great as they do to reviewers who are immersed in the new. I don't think people are always consciously hyping stuff, they are just judging it against different books.

Mimi wrote: " I tend to read in relation to genre and genre conventions and try to assess work within the frameworks within which they're written. "

This I find really interesting because it is so completely different from how I approach reading. I have a question for you about this.

Last year, when the Giller Prize shortlist was announced, I decided to get all five books and read the start of them and, if I liked what I read, to read the whole book. I ended up reading four of the five books. I did no research on any of the books to find out anything at all about them or their authors. Just me and the books. At that time, I had never heard of Rachel Cusk before and did not know that Transit was part two of a trilogy. To me is was just a stand-alone work of fiction. It was only a very long time after I finished reading it that I saw anything that suggested that the narrator might be a stand-in for Cusk, let alone that the book might be categorized as "autofiction".

So my question is this: In the same situation, would you not ever read the books without first checking to find out what, if any, genre they belong to so you would know how to approach reading it? It sounds to me from what you have said that, at the very least, you would strongly prefer to do that, but I am curious about your answer.

David - I think Mimi has dropped off the M&G group, as she is much more of a non-fiction reader (and within fiction, auto-fiction) and hadn't realised that this group was 99% fiction.

I tend to be in the Ferrante camp on knowing real-life facts about the author, although I would often read around about the book beforehand (e.g. reviews) as to how to approach reading it.

And where as here the author herself seems to believe the work is auto-fictional, I guess I would want to know how/why.

Sam wrote: "I am here Paul. Just pacing myself. Below is an article linked from today's lithub articles that includes the spoiler. It also comments on the autobiographical fiction background relating to Cusk.
..."

Incidentally Cusk's own take on that last scene can be found as part of a longer interview here: https://fsgworkinprogress.com/2018/09...

Cusk: It has its own reason. I see it as an acceptance of an element of, not violence exactly, but separateness, distinction, and this question of men and women—which as I say I’ve fenced all around it and in the end I sort of had to conclude that whatever women are, they are institutionally disadvantaged. I needed to find not just an image for it, but a sort of feeling about it, a feeling about that victimhood which I could understand, which is so much to do with the production of children, the nurture of children, and the defense of them, which is increasingly a shared world and no one owns any of it—it’s changing all the time. But this, as I say, elemental difference that is sex itself, it’s not violent but it looks like it. So, the ending is really that—it’s crude I suppose, and primitive, and it’s about genitals, bodies, none of which are mentioned very much in any of the other three books, but then suddenly there they are.

She also comments that the reason she brings back Ryan from book 1 in book 3, but very different, is to show that character can changed and is not fixed.

Paul wrote: "Sam wrote: "I am here Paul. Just pacing myself. Below is an article linked from today's lithub articles that includes the spoiler. It also comments on the autobiographical fiction background relati..."

Good article Paul. Thank you! I hadn't seen it.

I feel there is so much to say on topics triggered by Cusk, I don't know where to begin. I think Kudos was one of the more important books I read this year. I don't just mean that it was highly antcipated or that every critic would share an opinion, but I also felt there were books published that seemed inspired or influenced by "autofiction," with Cusk the most discussed of those writing in English. Crudo is one example that is acknowledged though not yet read by me, but I thought I saw influences in First Person, Asymmetry and various others. I felt that it was a shame the book was left off the Man Booker list for the reason of its importance. (Hell with it! I'll make the bad pun. Kudos to Goldsmith's for the inclusion.)

Before remarking on the last scene in Kudos, I want to list a couple of caveats. First, I have not read A Life's Work: On Becoming a Mother, or Aftermath: On Marriage and Separation, so I feel my impression of the trilogy is missing some background,. Second, I did not enjoy reading the trilogy during the process. My enjoyment and appreciation stemmed mainly from that last scene in Kudos, perceived in relation to the whole trilogy, and from the benefit of reflection where sometimes a work seems to magically grow in stature as it continues to reassert itself in your consciousness. ( Also, I haven't reread the trilogy, nor have the books in possession to reference, so my memory is my only basis for comment.)

Despite my caveats, I still feel motivated if not fully qualified to say that I think the last scene was the best last scene in any book I read this year. Again I stress that my thoughts are relating that scene to the trilogy as a whole, not just one book. I think that our impression of Faye is far different in this scene from that of Faye we saw at the beginning of the trilogy and I think our impression is far more defined than the outline of Faye we had at the end of book one. In fact, I perceived in that scene Faye as much larger, much more dominant, than the figure of the obnoxious, peeing male. I'm curious if any others saw a growth in Faye, or sensed a difference in how her strength was projected. I think Cusk achieved this by her select choice of that scene how she depicted it. A woman comes to a beach where only men are present and dominant with territorial ownership. She actively disrobes and moves near their space. One man responds by exhibiting his penis and urinating in the water she occupies affirming ownership. And she calmly floats and watches. There are strong, archetypal, signs and images in this scene and Cusk challenges our belief and subverts our expectations by having Faye act in a way contrary to those expectations but in a manner that is consistent with her character so it does not shake our belief. I think the ending is both effective and brilliant. Cusk understates her accomplishment with the strength of this ending. (As an aside, I think Cusk transcended the sensationalism to which she alluded in the article, by having Faye narrate the scene in the same matter of fact way Faye has been narrating events throughout the book, with little emotional embellishment.) Those are some of my thoughts and I haven't even linked them to the expected roles of men and women that Cusk keeps defying. But someone else can do that.

I didn't care for this book. I haven't read the first two books, and I read the whole thing in one gulp at the airport waiting for a delayed flights, but I found it very claustrophobic. The first scene, on the plane, was extremely vivid, in your face. But then there is simply a progression of identical scenes with various people talking at the narrator, and the reader. There was a complete lack of space. Too immediate, too relentless.

I began reading this in the morning, and finished it now in the evening. Quite possibly my favorite novel of the year (so far?). Everything made sense this time around, after an insufficient audio listening of the book earlier this year. I could praise everything about it but lucky for you I’m running out of time for today!

There are so many little details in this book that contribute to the whole. E.g. all the images of animals and hunting build up to the grand ending of the novel. What makes the scene even sadder is the discussion the women have at the restaurant right before, when one of the women remarks how “in law the woman is temporary, between the permanence of the land and the violence of the sea”.

Will probably write about the book in detail somewhere later.

I have finished the book so I have now read through the comments. This, from Jonathan, is the single sentence I agree with the most:

"My opinion is that Kudos is not good enough to be the Goldsmiths 2018 prize winner."

David, I will be interested to hear what you think when you have read this third book of the trilogy. For me, it didn't stand up to the other two.

I realise that the panel of judges is not purely looking for innovative styles, and there may have been other reasons for selecting this book, but autofiction seems to be the new normal. It's everywhere, but it's not that new, it just has a new label. I am thinking of JM Coetzee's "Summertime" where a journalist is interviewing several women who had relationships with the character John Coetzee after his death (and therefore truly annihilated!). Back then it was called "fictionalised memoir", along with "Boyhood" and "Youth".

Fans of this "new craze" might want to have a look at Coetzee's trilogy, the first of which was published in 1997.

Agreed that autofiction does seem to have become trendy but been around some time, particularly in France. Even the term isn't that new (“L’autofiction, c’est comme le rêve; un rêve n’est pas la vie, un livre n’est pas la vie.” - Serge Doubrovsky, 1977).

There is a good Guardian article here from June on the trend - the first three books it mentions are Knausgaard's Min Kamp, Kudos and Crudo:

https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...

Kudos also featured on the Publishers Weekly Best Books 2018 - Fiction, just published (alongside Flights, Fox, Census, Friday Black, Mars Room and Melmoth amongst others).

https://best-books.publishersweekly.c...

It is certainly an interesting list of very notable fiction books of 2018, even if I wouldn't agree with some as 'best' (indeed one of them is in poll position for my worst of 2018 award).

Thanks, that's interesting. And also Edward St Aubyn's Melrose novels. I don't recall the term autofiction when those were first out, so perhaps it's just the term that is newly applied in Britain.

Yes it was definitely more of a French thing for decades before it became trendy in English language (all the more reason to support your 'not that innovative' argument).

It's only been this year (I think) I've heard it applied to works where the author re-named the characters. Previously I was used to it for things like Frédéric Beigbeder where the author uses their own name.

Or maybe it became a more popular term in this forum.

I have heard it quite a bit at book festival and other author events, so it's not just this forum.

Joanna Walsh used it herself about her 2015 Vertigo (https://www.the-tls.co.uk/articles/pu...)

My favourite thing about autofiction is that if you take no real interest in the authors as separate from being the authors of the books and make no effort to find out anything else about them, then autofiction is just regular fiction. I (still) have not read Kudos (yet, but I definitely will), but I read Transit not knowing how much (if any) of the book was based on facts about the author and I loved it. I then read Outline not caring how much was factual and liked it a lot as well. When I read Kudos it will be reading it as pure fiction.

I'm a purist about the fiction / non-fiction dichotomy. If a book isn't a strict attempt to present all of the contents of the book as factual, then it's fiction. And if it's fiction, I will read and respond to it as if everything (other than background framing events that are already well known to be factual, like the story takes place during WWII, for instance) in it is fictional.

I honestly have no idea why anyone would have any interest in a book that sounds like an embellished version of real events where the reader has no way of telling what parts are real and what parts are not and yet is still supposed to care about the fact that some parts are real. But maybe that's just me.

Isn't that part of the autofiction concept though? The reader's experience of not being sure emphasises that this is one person's version of events, and that the other people's (e.g. the writer's family) will have their own versions, and how memory may change impressions over time.