{Review #7} I love books about books and writing, so sue me for navel gazing

Though not a perfect book, this is definitely a perfect book for me.

Let me preface this by saying there are a lot of books like Sigrid Nunez's The Friend in your local indie bookshop. I'm talking about this subgenre of mostly plotless existential books that examine an individual's relationship with art (as a whole or a specific type), usually in relation to some sort of affective bond, and are largely autofictional and/or metatextual. I recently reviewed Motherhood, which is such a book, and can think of many other authors who consistently produce work of this nature: Rachel Cusk, Kate Zambreno, Ali Smith, Deborah Levy, María Gainza, Olivia Laing, Maggie Nelson, Ocean Vuong, Alejandro Zambra, the list goes on. 

I do not intend to put anyone off this book by saying this, nor am I dismissing the form by stating how common it is. Clearly, there is something in this mode that appeals to authors and resonates with me, who keeps buying and reading them. Is it navel gazing? Sure, but so what? If there are many individuals like myself, eager to examine and re-examine the value of art in our lives, pondering obsessively what it means to live and live well—is this such a terrible thing? No! All I mean by that disclaimer is that if you have no patience for this little bookish subgenre, you will probably have little use for this book.

That said, The Friend is one of the good ones, and should you feel inclined to pick up a book of this nature, let me steer you towards this one. 

First of all, like Smith's How to be Both, this is more of a page turner than most of its relatives. In fact, there was a point where I just couldn't stop reading; I needed to know what would happen next. The story itself is very compelling: a woman is mourning the suicide of a lifelong friend when his third wife asks her to take care of his Great Dane Apollo. The woman, who is struggling to write her next book, reminisces about her friend, also a writer, and thinks about the state of professional writing nowadays, about its worth, and the personal and social dimensions of writing as an activity. And, of course, about that timeless bond between human and pet, dogs in particular. Doesn't that sound lovely? It even has a plot twist!

Then, there's the attention to writing. The prose is clean but artful, each sentence beautifully crafted and purposeful. My favorite quote?

Because it's all about the rhythm, you said. Good sentences start with a beat. 

Its only flaw? Well, it verges on "too meandering". There came a point (early in the book) when I wondered why she was talking about this or that. In the end it all wrapped up nicely, but a perfect book wouldn't have made me wonder in the first place, I believe. 

It's strongest aspect as commentary is that it portrays the male and female perspective on these themes in conversation (including power dynamics in art and academia), reflecting upon the newer millennial breed of literati in contrast to the old white-male-dominated one. The narrator is surprisingly receptive to both, and I found her uncertainty about her own feelings relatable and refreshing.

In the end, this is a very charming (dare I say uplifting?) and truly honest book, ideal for the self-examining bookish bookworm that plenty of us readers are at our cores.