Katie Kitamura

Audition

Amelia

It was that here, the gap between my private and performed selves collapsed, and for the briefest of moments there was only a single, unified self. Did this happen only in those few minutes on that stage and nowhere else? It felt that way. Although every beat of the scene was tightly scripted, I felt as if I had an infinite amount of time, I moved at my leisure. And while I hit my marks and cues, never deviating from the script, I was not in control of what took place, there was an alchemical process by which the scene unfolded, mysterious even to me and Max. In those moments,I was in communion with something, some force that was larger than myself and the scope of my ordinary life.

For so many years there had been the tacit understanding that I contained the threat to the marriage, that it was housed inside me. And for all those years I had tamped down every impulse to stray, I had lived inside a straitjacket of my own devising, and I had remained true. But in the end, he was the first to tire of the marriage, he was the first to look outside, to open the door and taste the fresh and free air. He was the first, and he was always bound to be the first, because of course I needed him, I needed Tomas, much more than he needed me, and this had always been the case, whether I was able to admit it or not. It was him, and it was always going to be him.

I stand on the stage. I look out into the audience, whichis full, the kind of house that Xavier must have dreamed of possibly from the very start. Xavier, whose ambition has the depth and power of my own. It is the kind of house I myself wanted in the early days of my career, when the au- dience and its recognition was all I seemed to seek. Always to be seen, in those days it was alnost an end in itselt, be- cause it was in being seen that I could say for certain that I existed, that my limbs were real as I touched them, that my being was intact as it peered out into the world. A stay against the turbulence within methat was, perhapS, purpose of all this. he

katie h.

They would talk about the terrible evening they had spent in my company. Perhaps they would even mock me a little, my auteur, my arrogance, I could see it already. I was holding the stem of my wine glass in my fingers, tapping the ball of it restlessly, and now I carefully knocked the glass so that a stain blossomed on the tablecloth and the others startled and pushed back their chairs.

a welcome reminder that there’s so much life to dig into at any age and how little control we actually have over any of it.

The unreliable narrator made this read a gripping one but left feeling like the investment and tension I held as a reader did not pay off. While I get that the point and themes of the book are more meta about reality, aging, desire and goes beyond necessarily commiting to readers getting a fulfilling resolution, the narrative did not necessarily lead me towards a reflective headspace about the themes. Also wasn’t sure what the penultimate chapter about the whole confrontation amongst the 4 characters was necessarily supposed to symbolise, I think that would be what I leave this read wondering about. 

Xi Hui Teo

This book withholds its intentions entirely. Sharp, unsettling, and deliberately opaque.

Karmen 

Haven't read anything like it! Can picture a banger of a film adaptation.

A challenging, mysterious, singular work.

c0up

Haven't read anything like it! Can picture a banger of a film adaptation.

A challenging, mysterious, singular work.

A rare book where, once I finished it, I genuinely couldn't tell if it was brilliant and I'm a little dumb, or it's stupid and I'm still smart. 

Regan Martin

Darryl Laiu

A tightly woven metafictional family drama about the performance, performer and the stage.

Kitamura is superb at micro-moments of tension and release. The violent thought that eases as someone steps over into another room. The feather-light touch that turns into an altercation-starting grip, and then a segueway into a calm conversational question. These moments, and the unreliable narrator, makes for a gripping read. I inhaled this in 2 days worth of subway rides. What a trip. 

Xiang

A tightly woven metafictional family drama about the performance, performer and the stage.

Kitamura is superb at micro-moments of tension and release. The violent thought that eases as someone steps over into another room. The feather-light touch that turns into an altercation-starting grip, and then a segueway into a calm conversational question. These moments, and the unreliable narrator, makes for a gripping read. I inhaled this in 2 days worth of subway rides. What a trip. 

a very interesting exploration on the artistic process and the roles we play within our lives. I enjoyed the confusing, ambiguous, and sometimes circular narrative. Unlike anything I’ve read before, which is a feat in and of itself. 

Mic Carter

went into this book with little understanding of the plot and left with little understanding of the plot. certainly not an indictment, as the writing was very well done, but i'm not sure it'll land in my top books of this year. which is funny because i usually don't mind ambiguity, in fact am generally a big fan, but perhaps this one just put a tad too much faith in me, the reader. 

tiff <3

Luna 🌙

This was so slippery and mundane with some gorgeous prose tucked in. How exhausting to be an actress like the protagonist, attuned to every minute movement questioning the meaning.

bro I love katie kitamura I could not stop reading this. queen of interiority & subtle prose 