Who is the damned tea basket? That’s what I want to know.
I’ve read my share of books by authors I know personally. But there’s a certain added complexity–unexpected–in reading a work of fiction by an author one knows personally. A reader scans every page wondering if a particular piece of the plot is true, or if the event on page 37 really happened, or if the character introduced in Chapter 8 is a real person or based on a real person or an unrecognizable composite of a dozen real persons.
And then, when such an author–one the reader knows personally–employs a wickedly clever technique of basing characters loosely on other real persons the reader may know personally, only crafting them into composites that are one part Person A and one-half part Person B and six and one-half parts pure fiction, the mind begins to spin like a Tilt-a-Whirl in zero-gravity.
Maybe that’s just me.
We’re reading L.L. Barkat’s The Novelist: a novella together this month. Click over to Tweetspeak Poetry to see who everyone thinks is whom. Maybe, the author will divulge whether or not an object can play the role of an actual character in telling a story.
(Photos courtesy of Tweetspeak Poetry)