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A review by joanaprneves
To Write as If Already Dead by Kate Zambreno
dark
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
I was completely blown away by Drift, by the same author and therefore jumped on the occasion to read her latest publication.
It is still very much an essay in the first person with a mix of auto-fiction but this one separates more clearly the essay/reading of Hervé Guibert’s last books (from whom the amazing title is borrowed) and the biographic amplifications. Let’s say that Drift is more magical and TWAIAD is more poignant. Both books are an incredible endeavor of organizing the chaos and of writing as if from bellow the genres, or behind them.
One of the things I liked best was the precariousness of an academic life exposed and how the author addresses money issues combined with parenting and health insurance.
It’s like a desperate character of Jane Austen whose mum died and therefore there is no one to push her to do “the right thing”. And therefore, the author sacrifices the potential of a steadier and financially stable life in order to be able to write.
This is a love letter to writing, because (essay) writing is always done beyond death, in a dimension of pain, discomfort and occasional joy.
It is still very much an essay in the first person with a mix of auto-fiction but this one separates more clearly the essay/reading of Hervé Guibert’s last books (from whom the amazing title is borrowed) and the biographic amplifications. Let’s say that Drift is more magical and TWAIAD is more poignant. Both books are an incredible endeavor of organizing the chaos and of writing as if from bellow the genres, or behind them.
One of the things I liked best was the precariousness of an academic life exposed and how the author addresses money issues combined with parenting and health insurance.
It’s like a desperate character of Jane Austen whose mum died and therefore there is no one to push her to do “the right thing”. And therefore, the author sacrifices the potential of a steadier and financially stable life in order to be able to write.
This is a love letter to writing, because (essay) writing is always done beyond death, in a dimension of pain, discomfort and occasional joy.