As I mentioned earlier, I was quite sick last week, which basically sucked overall but which also graciously allowed me plentiful time in which to catch up on a book that I started a couple months back and that had been, frankly, causing me a great deal of suffering, because I wanted to keep reading it so desperately but I couldn’t because I had no time because life truly does, even when you’re not sick, suck. But then there are bright spots (having my dog curled up on my lap whilst reading, getting paid for not working, clearing out the deep phlegm-coated regions of my lungs with all that hacking) and life is forgiven for all the shit. For a moment, anyway.
The book that tormented me with its relentless flirtations? Sheila Heti’s absolutely beyond brilliant “How Should A Person Be?”
If you are any of the following, you will enjoy this book:
a) Between the ages of 20 and 50.
b) Female, or not female.
c) Someone who doubts themselves from time to time.
d) An artist, or an admirer of art.
e) None of the above.
What I love most about this fictional novel is how incredibly unique and unconventional it is. The short summary of the plot is this: it revolves a character named Sheila (who is the author, but also not) who lives in Toronto and wants to be a writer and has a best friend named Margaux who’s a painter. Sheila is trying to uncover who she really is after escaping a stale marriage, but she goes about her self-discovery in all the wrong ways: she tries to fashion herself after some grand societal notions of how women/artists/anyone “should” be, which is not sustainable. She throws herself into contrived sexual relationships and begins a play which she cannot complete and compromises her friendship with Margaux because, at its core, the identity she tries to adopt is not genuine.
I could not have found this book at a better time, because it so perfectly echoes my own personal grievances, as well as that, I think of my generation and those that followed - a mass of young people who were given entirely too much room to “discover” themselves with no resources and no real grounding. I don’t mean that in the “poor spoiled rich girl with too many options” a la HBO’s “Girls” sense (although it was through a recommendation from Lena Dunham in some magazine that led me to seek out this novel); I mean merely to point out that our current societal tendency to encourage people to have it all, to be everything they want to be, while also forcing them to conform to some pretty strict ideals of what that SHOULD be is something that will inevitably threaten individuality, and, subsequently art, altogether.
In an interview in the August 2012 issue of Nylon magazine, Heti explained her use of unconventional format in the book, which incorporates normal narrative, dialogue (with no action), and a play format of breaking the story up into acts:
“The book is about how to be ugly in the world - and that maybe it’s OK to be ugly, maybe you need to be. For me, ugliness is a lack of control, so the book had to have that feeling of looseness or freedom or ugliness or lack of inhibition. I guess when you’re inhibited, you’re trying to hide parts of yourself. And the idea of this book is, ‘What is it like if you allow all those parts of yourself to exist in the world?’”
What is normal, anyway, and what is ugly? Who’s to say that the ugly isn’t beautiful? The thoughtful discussion of these questions are why you should go read this book right now. But, of course, that’s only if you want to… who am I to tell you who to be?