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Julie
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Jan 11, 2015 07:58AM

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Fantastic and valid questions. To me, the book read univocally - all of the characters struck me as proxies for Cusk and her concerns (story, marriage, writing) rather than real, free actors. I would have liked to write about that issue if I had more space. In particular I thought the unchanging rhythm of speech from character to character was a tell - the same careful multi-clause speech regardless of character…
In other words I thought the characters were basically Socratic, and the overall effect was one of deep inwardness. So that it's a book that acts as if it's listening, but is in fact essentially didactic.
To me the contrast is with Ferrante, whose books are in the first person and yet whose other characters seem radically separate from her narrator.
Interesting questions - and I'd be curious about your thoughts.

Valid point. I deliberately avoided reading reviews until I'd finished the book, and while I recognized Cusk's departure from the traditional structure of the novel, I also tended to see the book as one in a long line of not just books, but plays and films, that uses conversation as opposed to plot as a way to convey things about human nature. So I didn't necessarily see all the characters as being proxies for Cusk until I read your review and the New Yorker review, and now that it's been pointed out to me I totally see it.
If we're speaking more generally about the current trend in memoir-novels, I think whether it works has everything to do with the skill of the writer--or perhaps just my perception of their skill, I don't know! I've read some of these novels and honestly wondered if the writer really believed in what he/she was doing or was just putting me on, and I never want to feel that way when I'm reading a novel. I didn't feel that way about Outline, thankfully, although given that Cusk has been writing a long time I was also willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
I haven't read Ferrante yet, although I have a vague plan to do so this year.
Thank you for responding!

I read your review of Ferrante's writing on The Millions, and very much agree. I think it is this almost startling sense of truth that makes her books so touching. I like that a story that is, essentially, not terribly unusual, feels so momentous just because it is, in every subtle nuance, so real.
I kind of wish I could read the original, but my Italian is rusty at best, so it will have to be the translations.
And I agree with the sentiment that, reading her work, as a writer, there is a bit of a feeling of being demotivated, because she is just so good. But I suppose the trick is not comparing... Easier said than done though;-)