Last year I read all of the Booker prize short listed novels and my plan was to try to do that again this year. However, I only read one (The Land in Winter) before the winner was announced (Flesh). I saw the short films the Booker prize people made for each of the short listed novels, and this one appealed to me.
Here’s the blurb …
One woman, the performance of a lifetime. Or two. An exhilarating, destabilising Möbius strip of a novel that asks whether we ever really know the people we love.
Two people meet for lunch in a Manhattan restaurant. She’s an accomplished actress in rehearsals for an upcoming premiere. He’s attractive, troubling, young – young enough to be her son. Who is he to her, and who is she to him? In this compulsively readable, brilliantly constructed novel, two competing narratives unspool, rewriting our understanding of the roles we play every day – partner, parent, creator, muse – and the truths every performance masks, especially from those who think they know us most intimately.
I don’t want to spoil this for anyone, so I am just going to write that it is a novel in two parts, and the second part upends everything you thought you knew from part one.
There is a single narrator – a middle aged woman – whose name we don’t know. There is no exposition. She doesn’t give us information like who is Tomas? (her husband it turns out). There is a fabulous sense of place – it felt like a witty New York movie. And I enjoyed all of her musings on the craft of acting.
It is mysterious and open-ended.
A review.









