August Blue

I still don't think I've fully grasped what I've read.

It felt like poetic fiction, if such a thing exists? Dreamlike. I often wasn't sure whether I was reading an inner monologue, a memory, or an ordinary conversation. I don't mean that as a comment on the writing itself, but on the feeling it created. To build that kind of atmosphere in a novel is incredibly powerful. Wow.

This was my first Deborah Levy book, and I think it opened up a completely new perspective on reading for me. It was such a pleasure to read each sentence.

The book explores identity (along with other themes), especially what happens when you've built your entire sense of self around being a performer. But it could just as easily be a profession, parenthood, or being an artist. Who are you when that role disappears? More importantly, who would you have been if it had never defined you in the first place?

Such a metaphorical, transformative read.