Rathbones Folio Prize Fiction Shortlist: Sheila Heti and Elizabeth Strout

I’ve enjoyed engaging with this year’s Rathbones Folio Prize shortlists, reading the entire poetry shortlist and two each from the nonfiction and fiction lists. These two I accessed from the library. Both Sheila Heti and Elizabeth Strout featured in the 5×15 event I attended on Tuesday evening, so in the reviews below I’ll weave in some insights from that.


Pure Colour by Sheila Heti

Sheila Heti is a divisive author; I’m sure there are those who detest her indulgent autofiction, though I’ve loved it (How Should a Person Be? and especially Motherhood). But this is another thing entirely: Heti puts two fingers up to the whole notion of rounded characterization or coherent plot. This is the thinnest of fables, fascinating for its ideas and certainly resonant for me what with the themes of losing a parent and searching for purpose in life on an earth that seems doomed to destruction … but is it a novel?

My summary for Bookmarks magazine gives an idea of the ridiculous plot:

Heti imagines that the life we live now—for Mira, studying at the American Academy of American Critics, working in a lamp store, grieving her father, and falling in love with Annie—is just God’s first draft. In this creation myth of sorts, everyone is born a “bear” (lover), “bird” (achiever), or “fish” (follower). Mira has a mystical experience in which she and her dead father meet as souls in a leaf, where they converse about the nature of time and how art helps us face the inevitability of death. If everything that exists will soon be wiped out, what matters?

The three-creature classification is cute enough, but a copout because it means Heti doesn’t have to spend time developing Mira (a bird), Annie (a fish), or Mira’s father (a bear), except through surreal philosophical dialogues that may or may not take place whilst she is disembodied in a leaf. It’s also uncomfortable how Heti uses sexual language for Mira’s communion with her dead dad: “she knew that the universe had ejaculated his spirit into her”.

Heti explained that the book came to her in discrete chunks, from what felt like a more intuitive place than the others, which were more of an intellectual struggle, and that she drew on her own experience of grief over her father’s death, though she had been writing it for a year beforehand.

Indeed, she appears to be tapping into primordial stories, the stuff of Greek myth or Jewish kabbalah. She writes sometimes of “God” and sometimes of “the gods”: the former regretting this first draft of things and planning how to make things better for himself the second time around; the latter out to strip humans of what they care about: “our parents, our ambitions, our friendships, our beauty—different things from different people. They strip some people more and others less. They strip us of whatever they need to in order to see us more clearly.” Appropriately, then, we follow Mira all the way through to her end, when, stripped of everything but love, she rediscovers the two major human connections of her life.

Given Ali Smith’s love of the experimental, it’s no surprise that she as a judge shortlisted this. If you’re of a philosophical bent, don’t mind negligible/non-existent plot in your novels and aren’t turned off by literary pretension, you should be fine. If you are new to Heti or unsure about trying her, though, this is probably not the right place to start. See my Goodreads review for some sample quotes, good and bad.


Lucy by the Sea by Elizabeth Strout

This was by far the best of the three Amgash books I’ve read. I think it must be the first time that Strout has set a book not in the past or at some undated near-contemporary moment but in the actual world with its current events, which inevitably means it gets political. I had my doubts about how successful she’d be with such hyper-realism, but this really worked.

As Covid hits, William whisks Lucy away from her New York City apartment to a house at the coast in Crosby, Maine. She’s an Everywoman recounting the fear and confusion of those early pandemic days, hearing of friends and relatives falling ill and knowing there’s nothing she can do about it. Isolation, mostly imposed on her but partially chosen – she finally gets a writing studio, the first ‘room of her own’ she’s ever had – gives her time to ponder the trauma of her childhood and what went wrong in her marriage to William. She worries for her two adult daughters but, for the first time, you get the sense that the strength and wisdom she’s earned through bitter experience will help her support them in making good choices.

Here in rural Maine, Lucy sees similar deprivation to what she grew up with in Illinois and also meets real people – nice, friendly people – who voted for Trump and refuse to be vaccinated. I loved how Strout shows us Lucy observing and then, through a short story, compassionately imagining herself into the situation of conservative cops and drug addicts. “Try to go outside your comfort level, because that’s where interesting things will happen on the page,” is her philosophy. This felt like real insight into a writer’s inspirations.

Another neat thing Strout does here, as she has done before, is to stitch her oeuvre together by including references to most of her other books. So she becomes friends with Bob Burgess, volunteers alongside Olive Kitteridge’s nursing home caregiver (and I expect their rental house is supposed to be the one Olive vacated), and meets the pastor’s daughter from Abide with Me. My only misgiving is that she recounts Bob Burgess’s whole story, replete with spoilers, such that I don’t feel I need to read The Burgess Boys.

Lucy has emotional intelligence (“You’re not stupid about the human heart,” Bob Burgess tells her) and real, hard-won insight into herself (“My childhood had been a lockdown”). Readers as well as writers have really taken this character to heart, admiring her seemingly effortless voice. Strout said she does not think of this as a ‘pandemic novel’ because she’s always most interested in character. She believes the most important thing is the sound of the sentences and that a writer has to determine the shape of the material from the inside. She was very keen to separate herself from Lucy, and in fact came across as rather terse. I had somehow expected her to have a higher voice, to be warmer and softer. (“Ah, you’re not Lucy, you’re Olive!” I thought to myself.)



This year’s judges are Guy Gunaratne, Jackie Kay and Ali Smith. Last year’s winner was a white man, so I’m going to say in 2023 the prize should go to a woman of colour, and in fact I wouldn’t be surprised if all three category winners were women of colour. My own taste in the shortlists is, perhaps unsurprisingly, very white-lady-ish and non-experimental. But I think Amy Bloom and Elizabeth Strout’s books are too straightforward and Fiona Benson’s not edgy enough. So I’m expecting:

Fiction: Scary Monsters by Michelle de Kretser

Nonfiction: Constructing a Nervous System by Margo Jefferson

Poetry: Quiet by Victoria Adukwei Bulley (or Cane, Corn & Gully by Safiya Kamaria Kinshasa)


Overall winner: Constructing a Nervous System by Margo Jefferson (or Quiet by Victoria Adukwei Bulley)


This is my 1,200th blog post!

24 responses

  1. I agree with you that this is is the best of the Lucy novels which I’ve enjoyed but not as much as the Olive series. Interesting that Strout’s more Oive than Lucy – quite pleased to hear that!


    1. Lucy nearly lost me after Oh William!, where I found her voice affected and annoying, but I was tempted by a Covid novel. I got the distinct impression that Strout suffers no fools!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I was mystified as to why Oh William! was shortlisted for the Booker.

        Liked by 1 person

  2. The Heti definitely doesn’t sound like one for me – I really liked Motherhood but it teetered right on the edge of pretentiousness for me, and How Should A Person Be? fell right in, and this sounds worse! I wasn’t especially impressed by My Name is Lucy Barton so I’ve not continued with the Lucy novels, but I did like Olive Kitteridge.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. If How Should A Person Be? was a step too far for you, you’ll definitely want to avoid this one!

      I did like this one more than My Name Is Lucy Barton (and about the same as Olive, Again), but I’m not sure you’d be drawn to a pandemic novel.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I may be the only person in the world to be underwhelmed by Elizabeth Strout – I’ve only read The Burgess Boys, and that may be enough. The Heti doesn’t appeal either, so my TBR list currently remains unchanged!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I know others who aren’t wowed by her. It was a bit annoying that Lucy by the Sea gives away the big tragedy in the Burgess family — I thought, no point in me reading that novel now!


  4. I haven’t been engaged with the Rathbone Folio this year, having managed to sign myself up for far too many wonderful blog tours after my Nordic Jan, mostly for translated crime novels. I’ve never been tempted by Strout either, much as in the same way I can take or leave Tyler, Patchett et al, but do usually enjoy them if I do read one. I used to read an awful lot more US novels, but have migrated into more European (and South American) ones alongside the UK these days. My poetry reading has also taken a dive in the past year or so, which is a shame – but I have got the new Zafar Kunial now to read.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I had to prompt FMcM to offer review copies for this and Young Writer; otherwise, I’m not sure there would have been anything this year. Quite a difference from 2021 when we were all sent full sets of the shortlists. That plus not being invited to the Faber party and the Young Writer ceremony makes me feel like bloggers aren’t valued anymore, like we’re past it. 😦

      That’s great that you’re reading so much more in translation. My stats are as poor as ever.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I’ve had few if any London invites over the past few years either. I loved the various Faber, Penguin/Vintage dos, especially meeting up with you and the others.

        Liked by 1 person

  5. Hi Rebecca
    We like novels without a conventional plot design. The plot is surely overrated, isn’t it? There are interesting novel f.e. by William Gaddis and postmodern novels like DeLillo’s without a ‘proper’ plot. Of course, books which are listed for a prize are usually main stream, actually not that interesting to read.
    ‘Pure Colour’ is a book we like and as we are not English, meaning not prudish, we don’t mind the sometimes sexual language.
    Thanks & Cheers
    The Fab Four of Cley
    🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’ve not read Gaddis and have only tried the one novel by DeLillo, Libra. Writers who take risks and do different things with genre tend to do well in this prize race. (It wasn’t the sexual language per se but the hint of incest that was problematic for me!)

      Liked by 1 person

  6. I’ve been avoiding the Heti, and Strout is sometimes-big-hit-but-mostly-meh for me. It’d be interesting to see de Kretser win a major Anglo prize—might consolidate her reputation here.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. This was a Strout hit for me, but YMMV.

      I’ve only read The Lost Dog and Springtime by de Kretser and can’t say I was that impressed, but I’d read Scary Monsters if it wins.


      1. I’ve never read her, but my former colleague Karin liked her work very much!


  7. I have been really curious about Pure Colour but after reading your review and other readers’ very mixed responses I think I’ll move it further to the bottom of my TBR pile.
    And this latest Lucy novel made me completely fall in love with the whole series again after feeling mixed about Oh William so I’m glad you feel so positively about it too.
    Interesting to read your predictions. Will you be going to the award ceremony?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m not entirely sure how the Folio Academy works, but it seems like a bit of a clique where if you’re in, you’re in and then you become a judge or mentor in the future. They clearly love the highly literary and the experimental, but I think the Heti might still be a step too far. I can’t decide if Strout’s work is too straightforward, or if there’s enough love from writers for how she creates characters and voices.

      I haven’t gotten an invite to a London literary event in an age. I think the focus is on vloggers and social media influencers these days. It’s expensive and a faff travelling in from Newbury anyway, so not a problem. But I hope I will get to attend something at some point later this year.


  8. I have only read the poetry list so far. Like Quiet and England’s Green and some of Benson’s collection. Was less enamoured by the others. Have Passengers incoming from the library soon

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Three of the poetry nominees seemed quite similar and representing the same viewpoint. In that sense, I would have preferred more variety of form and content.


  9. The Heti is a bit off-the-wall, even for me. I found it started out interesting (I like the idea that we are in a first draft of the world), but then it went downhill and got too weird. Some people love it, though.

    I am so behind on Strout’s books. She keeps churning them out! But I like them, so I need to find a time to read them.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I remember Marcie saying that if she hadn’t been assigned to review it, it’s the kind of book she might have ‘lost’ down the back of the sofa! I do think Heti is a very interesting person and enjoyed seeing her speak as part of the event. I also saw her interview Rachel Cusk as part of the online Hay Festival a couple of years ago.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I did really like Motherhood!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Me too, that was a favourite of mine from the year it came out.


  10. […] a judge! (How astonished am I that I predicted all three category winners and the overall winner in this post from three days before the announcement?!) I know nothing else about the novel, but I have a copy […]


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