How Should a Person Be?: A Novel from Life

by Sheila Heti

Longlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction 2013. Reeling from a failed marriage, Sheila, a twentysomething playwright, finds herself unsure of how to live and create. When Margaux, a talented painter and free spirit, and Israel, a sexy and depraved artist, enter her life, Sheila hopes that through close--sometimes too close--observation of her new friend, her new lover, and herself, she might regain her footing in art and life. Using transcribed conversations, real emails, plus heavy doses of fiction, the brilliant and always innovative Sheila Heti crafts a work that is part literary novel, part self-help manual, and part bawdy confessional. It's a totally shameless and dynamic exploration into the way we live now, which breathes fresh wisdom into the eternal questions: What is the sincerest way to love? What kind of person should you be?

• ISBN10: 125003244X
• ISBN13: 9781250032447
• Publish Date: 25 June 2013 (first published 21 October 2010)
• Publish Status: Active
• Publish Country: US
• Imprint: St Martin's Press
• Format: Paperback (US Trade)
• Pages: 320
• Language: English

Reviews

[clementine]

I should have known as soon as I saw the blurb on the cover from Lena Dunham calling this book "amazing" that it would be self-absorbed and privileged. Heti's preoccupation with herself is poorly disguised as a deeper, broader search for the meaning of life. She is incapable of thinking outside of herself until she deeply hurts her (also self-indulgent) best friend, and, in general, overthinks everything and creates trouble where there is none. She is the embodiment of bourgeoisie anxieties that, to put it bluntly, the working class doesn't have the luxury to give a shit about. She takes a job at a hair salon not for the money but because she's feeling unfulfilled procrastinating writing a play and doing coke with her other privileged artist friends. She decides to move to New York - one of the most expensive cities in the world - on a whim. And she frames everything she does as some sort of deep quest to finding human meaning, when really it's just navelgazing at its finest. And yet I think she writes enjoyable, fluid prose, hence the generous rating. Somehow I couldn't find it in myself to hate this book, although it's irritating as hell - and, yes, exactly the kind of thing Lena Dunham would like.