GRATE literature, and me

So anyone who’s read me for a while has probably picked up on my ambivalence toward the literary canon — that long list of books that Critics have deemed to be Grate Literature, and that frequently gets derided for being overwhelmingly populated by dead white guys.

Although to be fair, I’m generally not that excited by what dead white ladies have produced either.

np, by Yoshimoto Banana (39/107)

Never thought I’d say this, but I actually prefer Yoshimoto Banana’s short-form fiction. She’s very good at sketching out characters’ lives in relatively few words, at evoking the dissonant push-pull of love when it doesn’t fit together quite right, but I’m not sure she has the substance to sustain longer works.

It should be said though, that np is wildly misrepresented by their design choices for the cover:

Pink and purple, swirly font for the title, a hip young woman looking boldly at the camera, “a mesmerizing novel of Japan’s Generation X” — this is chick lit, right?

No, it is a Gothic novel.