So, here goes, with my most basic criticism of the book: Sheila Heti and Margaux Williamson’s relationship. (Which is an idea that Heti harps on at one point in the book.) It’s bullshit that I can’t criticize the book because I don’t belong to its demographic, in the same way that it’s a bullshit idea that white men shouldn’t be allowed to show interest in, and write about, African countries and peoples. Is this really what adult friendships between women are like? All this junior-high drama over sophomoric acting out, and the perpetual need to “re-affirm” the relationship? I don’t see this among my female friends but maybe that’s because I’m 1) a man 2) not white or upper-middle-class and 3) not living in a major city, among urban artists. And good: I finished How Should A Person Be? tonight, and the 2nd half is just… well, I still really like The Chairs Are Where the People Go, but I’m no longer interested in writing about her novel/memoir/re-purposed diary/what-the-fuck-ever. I laughed out loud at your negative response to the Heti pitch, because that’s exactly how I imagined you’d respond. I’ve edited the letter slightly, so that it’ll make sense to the world outside my little environs Sheila Heti could learn something from that. Several writers unfollowed her on Twitter, specifically citing her reaction to Heti as the reason for doing so. She intensely disliked the book, too, and got blowback from feminist writers for saying so. Instead of writing an essay on How Should A Person Be?, I took on the form of the book, and vented in an email to an editor who shall remain unnamed. It celebrates selfishness and insularity as a path to “authenticity”-Heti (or “Heti”) grows a bit by the book’s end but only in the sense that she knows more about herself, not about any other part of the world around her. How Should A Person Be? extols and details clearly the narcissism of the book’s intended demographic-young, educated, urban white women with creative aspirations. Heti’s frustrated me before, and I’m tired of circling around this drain, particularly because the blogosphere’s love for this book is deep and virulent. Indeed, the novel ostensibly concerns Heti’s attempts to write a play, which then becomes the book you read. Those transcriptions-meandering walk-and-talks, email exchanges, coffeeshop chatter-dominate the book, acting as a sort of closet play. I hated the novel/memoir’s insularity and lack of curiosity about the outside world, even if I was occasionally charmed by some of its (many) rambling transcriptions of conversations. I tried to write a full review of Sheila Heti’s How Should A Person Be? but I became as frustrated and incoherent as the novel’s protagonist, a Toronto writer/layabout also named Sheila Heti.
0 kommentar(er)
