
Shakespeare‘s “All the world‘s a stage” monologue kept coming to mind...
Weird and destabilizing, the novel is split into halves with its very premise inverting itself for part 2. But while what‘s true and who the characters are to one another shifts dramatically, the persistent matter of performance (on and off stage) makes for a fast, fascinating read about identity, authenticity, and the limitations to knowing/being known by those we love.























































