Somewhere I heard that the British writer Rachel Cusk was brutally honest, unafraid of relating the truth, and never wrote to soften the blows of reality. Her works appear to be mostly autobiographical—memoirs—but it’s important to remember that we are dealing with fiction.
I grabbed most of Cusk’s major titles and started reading one of the newest: Outline.
Well, it’s true that Cusk is a good writer and that her vision of reality is honest and adult, but I found the novel somewhat tedious. The New York Times review concluded: