To the extent that autofiction is a movement it seems to be one created by critics, which perhaps explains why this genre’s generally acknowledged membership is so homogenous.
I can't help but wonder if this issue might be fixed at least a bit if we had more critics of color? If we're thinking that white critics gravitate towards white writers, would critics of color gravitate to writers of color? Or would the also go for white writers because that is what their white colleagues do?
Writers of color are sparingly featured in appraisals of autofiction. Indeed, the two writers of color who are consistently mentioned among the ranks of autofiction’s practitioners—Teju Cole and Tao Lin—use characters whose lives and preoccupations are likely comprehensible to most members of the literary critic class.
It really makes me sad that only two writers of color are actively recognized in this genre, and that these two writers have to essentially whitewash their characters to get that recognition. I wonder what would happen if they stopped writing their characters like this. I would be interested to read it.
Some mistook my book as an immigrant novel (in Harper’s, my protagonist is called an immigrant even though he declares in the opening pages that he was born in America),
This strikes me as that stereotype of "oh you're not white? what country were you born in then?" even though the character is literally born in America. It's just this insane thought that someone of color must obviously be born outside the country? I don't understand this logic, because it's not like America isn't a diverse country. Never mind that the author clearly said the character was born in America.
How would the conversation about autofiction evolve if the writers I named above were referenced more often? And how many more writers of color—already insecure about their place in the world of literature, already convinced that their lives aren’t worthy of appearing in print—would find the courage to begin working on their manuscripts?
I think this is a super important point. Imagine a world where these authors were more well known. Imagine a world where writers of color were just as renowned as white writers. Literature would be even more rich and diverse and more accessible.
It’s not entirely surprising that white critics gravitate toward writers in whom they see themselves, and who write about topics and lead the kinds of lives they are familiar with.
I think it is valid to gravitate towards what you know. I do the same thing. But I think it's also extremely important to go outside your comfort zone and read about something you don't know. It's obviously because of this that books by writers of color are not as explored by white critics. I think that if more white critics looked into books outside their comfort zone, they would really enjoy the books.
At the most basic level, this is an inevitable consequence of a Western literary landscape dominated by white editors, white critics, and white readers. Writers of color are rarely perceived as innovators who might establish trends that permanently shift literary culture writ large.
I really love this section, and I definitely agree. White people in the field always seem to get more credit and recognition for their work. The line later on that "they are usually regard as books by and about people outside the mainstream of life" is really good too. It's absolutely true. I think that if you looked at a book by a white person and a book by a person of color, both about the same story, but both writing a character of their respective background, the white writer's will probably be regarded as innovative, while the writer of color would be a more obscure story that is not universal to everyone.
The effect is to signal to the reader that Julius is immersed in Western high culture, and that Western readers are entering a safe, well-appointed space in which their admiration for these same figures will be affirmed.
This statement is so so true. Western culture is absolutely considered "high culture" by many. So much so, that people of color are forced to assimilate and take on that culture so they can be heard and respected. This exclusion is really sad, and I wish it was more accessible than it is.
Autofiction is at the cutting edge of literary innovation; autobiographical fiction is as old as time.
It's really interesting that these two genres are considered so similar in content but the classification is so different. Just small differences, probably hardly noticeable to the untrained eye, but they make or break which genre the book will be a part of. This has always been interesting to me, actually- how a book is classified in a genre vs how an author might want it classified.
There is something vaguely misogynistic about the shame associated with the romance genre. Romance is frivolous and sentimental, too feminine. If you enjoy romance in your literature, it’s more acceptable to be caught with Love In the Time of Cholera than it is to be caught with a Danielle Steele book.
I absolutely agree with this. It's very sad to me how the romance genre is so judged and shameful. It all goes back to how no literature is less valid than another. Just because it's not academic or some kind of classic, impressive content, doesn't mean it's a shameful story. And there absolutely is misogyny involved in the judgement of the romance genre. It's seen as a genre for silly preteens, or middle aged women and therefore seen as less valid. I saw a tiktok once of a girl talking to her mother, who has multiple degrees and I am pretty sure is a doctor. And this woman's favorite genre is romance. I think that just kind of speaks to the fact that the romance genre isn't just this uneducated, stupid genre.
Outside of this central relationship, however, the characters are often flat. Marianne is surrounded by monstrous sadists with no discernible personality traits beyond their sadism, the better to put Connell’s earnest sweetness into contrast. Connell is surrounded by dull and angelic women, the better to highlight Marianne’s spiky brilliance. And the twists and turns of their relationship are occasionally spurred by miscommunications and misunderstandings that verge on sitcom wackiness.
I can agree with this a bit. The characters definitely could have had more depth. I don't necessarily think it negatively impacts the novel, but it would have probably benefitted. I always love a complex villain character. And the miscommunications are something I have a love hate relationship. They are so so so frustrating, and usually can be avoided so easily, but they're so fun to read, I think.
Never once does Normal People try to prove its intelligence with coldness. Never once does it allow its romance to overwhelm the clarity of its prose. It takes a knife to its central relationship, slicing it apart to examine its dysfunctional power dynamics and never flinching away from the mess it uncovers — but it also allows that relationship to feel genuine and meaningful and even sweet.
I think the simplicity and clarity is something I really enjoyed. I do enjoy a more complex novel, but I also really liked this story. It's straight to the point (which, as someone who hates metaphor and poetry, I can appreciate) and tells an entertaining and meaningful story. Even though there's not much complexity, it still manages to be genuine and relevant.
Of course, novels don’t necessarily need to have a thrilling plot to be compelling or significant. Amongst critics there seems a general consensus that Normal People was not “just a romance,” but an astute commentary of social class.
Yes! It doesn't need to be trilling and life changing to be important. Some of my favorite books are very simple novels, but they provide comfort which, in my opinion, is all that really matters. And I did notice this commentary, and I thought It was really interesting. It added another layer to the novel, in a subtle enough way.
However, the inclusion of Connell and the insistence on melodrama — Marianne is saved from the evil men in her life not once but three times by Connell — means the novel remains unchallenging and keeps the characters in comfortable, predictably heteronormative territory.
I know that its a very stereotypical thing, the guy "rescuing" the girl. But it is hard to leave abusive relationships. Sometimes you can't do it on your own. Sometimes you need support, and Marianne finds that in Connell.
And, had this been a novel focused solely on her experience, it might have been an interesting exploration of an over-educated woman in late-capitalist society a la Halle Butler’s The New Me.
I am not a fan of much of this article, but this sentence did just give me the idea of a reimagining of the story utilizing the Bechdel test, and I think that would be super interesting. A story with just Marianne's experience.
In one much-cited passage ridiculed on Goodreads, Rooney’s writing verges on embarrassing with its inelegance
I really do not like this statement. It is so degrading to Rooney's writing, which I do not believe deserves this level of criticism. I just think this feeling of superiority that people have in literature like this is baffling and really off putting. It's just like I've said before, just because one reviewer doesn't like it, doesn't make it bad. I think there's a sort of beauty in writing that isn't perfectly elegant, honestly.
The book is populated with bullying teenagers, evil boyfriends, and abusive family members who are not so much “normal” as stock.
I have to at least partially disagree with this statement. I think there's definitely a hint of stock character in there, but to me that's what makes them normal. They're stock characters for a reason. These characters are real in some way to every single reader. They are relatable, normal people and that, I believe, is the purpose of this novel.