This book had such a unique idea and was so gripping the entire way through. It was fascinating to read how the narrator fell deeper and deeper with her characters. This was a different story, and one I can't believe I don't hear more about.

When I first the synopsis for Sulari Gentill’s Crossing Lines, I was both reluctant and eager. Reluctant, because of the complex plot and metafictional nature of the narrative. Eager, because I instinctively knew that if the writer has truly pulled it off, then this is will be a brilliant read. I am glad I chose to read it, because Sulari Gentill has pulled it off, and how!

In Crossing Lines, the writer (Sulari Gentill) has written about a crime writer (Madeline d’Leon), who is writing a murder mystery featuring a writer of literary novels (Edward McGinnity) who is in turn writing a novel about a crime writer (Madeline) who is writing about a literary writer (Edward).

Sounds confusing? Surprisingly, it isn’t! All credit to Sulari Gentill for the delicate balance she maintains. It does take a lot of involvement from the reader, but for a reader willing to take up the intellectual exercise, Crossing Lines is a deeply satisfying read.

The book is a commentary on the writing process, and of how involved writers can get with their characters. Is such absorption necessary, or healthy?

The metafictional nature of the work makes it surreal. In the beginning , one does feel like one is reading two separate books–one a whodunnit; and the other a literary work that explores the relationship between a writer and her creation. As the relationship between Madeline and Ned becomes grows more and more intimate, however, the “crossing of the lines” begins and the boundaries between the two stories start to blur.

Considering all this complexity, it is remarkable how beautifully the author has plotted and paced this book. At no point did I feel overwhelmed or exhausted. The characters are well-written too, especially the two central characters, Madeline and Edward.

By the time we come to the end, there are hardly any boundaries between the writer and the written; between reality and fiction; truth and falsity. The psychological effect this has on the reader is difficult to express. The reader is never sure what is true, mirroring the characters, and their inability to stick to reality.

Kudos to Sulari Gentill for writing this delicate, intellectually and emotionally satisfying read. Crossing Lines is definitely a must-read for those who love the art of writing.

Madeleine d’Leon is a crime fiction writer who is taking a break from her successful series of mystery novels to write a whodunit with a brand new character – Edward McGinnity, a literary author who has found himself embroiled in the murder of art critic Geoffrey Vogel.

Edward McGinnity is writing a story about Madeleine d’Leon, lawyer and crime fiction writer whose marriage to doctor Hugh Lamond is waning after several miscarriages.

While this may sound confusing, Crossing the Lines cleverly explores how a writer’s obsession with her fictional character evolves to a point where he literally comes to life. And although there is a whodunit, this is much more than just a mystery novel. In fact, the identity of who killed Geoffrey Vogel is deliberately not as compelling as the developing relationship between Madeleine and Edward and the concept of a writer completely absorbed by her fictional story.

The pair begin by simply observing each other – Edward envisages Madeleine in cloud print pyjamas, tapping away at her laptop, and ordering takeaway for dinner. Madeline imagines Edward writing long hand in his expensive beach house; a typical crime fiction hero with a troubling backstory – his family was killed in a car accident. He’s in love with best friend Willow who is married and cannot return his love; deliberately written so Madeleine doesn’t have to write a sex scene, and of whom she becomes envious as her passion for Edward intensifies. The viewpoints alternate seamlessly, as it appears both simultaneously occupy the same space, leading the reader to doubt who is really real.

They are startled to discover they can converse with one another – bantering about the conventions of their differing writing styles – crime fiction and literary fiction. Madeleine tells Edward something has to “actually happen” in the stuff she writes and Edward accuses her of being obsessed with “guns and masked bandits.” When Madeleine tells her father she could never be a literary writer as the women must be stick thin, Edward realises he cannot think of any fat female literary writer of note. Before long, their relationship crosses imaginary lines, progressing to physical contact, with Madeleine preferring Edward’s company to Hugh’s.

Crossing the Lines is an intricate metanarrative with Gentill, also a crime fiction author and former attorney, using “a familiar baseline” from which to develop the character of Madeleine. In April, I attended a seminar at Supanova where Sulari Gentill said she writes her mysteries without necessarily knowing where they will lead. And like Gentill, Madeline is also a ‘pantser’ rather than a ‘plotter’ – writing plot points without knowing where they will lead, including a sudden and brutal attack on Edward and a frantic car chase. And the reader of Crossing the Lines will wonder at Madeleine’s inevitable fate as she allows herself to sink deeper into her own imagination, separating herself from reality and descending into delusion.

Crossing the Lines is a must read novel, especially for writers who will relate to the concept of feeling real emotions for fictional characters and the consequences of what they make happen to them. As Madeleine’s psychiatrist asks her: “Do you like that, Madeleine, deciding questions of life and death, having the power to take or give such things?” In this case, the authorial power is in the able hands of Sulari Gentill, who has crafted an intelligent and insightful story that will leave you contemplating the bounds of your own imagination.

Confusing, confusing, confusing. I’m still not totally sure who was the real writer and who was the character? The ending was more metaphysical and philosophical that I would’ve liked. Or, if that was the intent of the story, it didn’t go far enough into that direction, in my opinion. The book played on a tightrope, unsure of which side to fall on, and ultimately my enjoyment suffered because of it.

I liked both the characters and how their lives and writing were affecting each other, but ultimately, in the end, I was hoping for at least one of their story lines to have an actual ending. As it were, it felt like all of the sudden everything was screwed, no one got a happy ending, and then the book ended. I don’t need a happy ending, mind you, but I just didn’t really feel like there was much for my mind to grasp onto once the book ended for me to feel like it really made a solid impact on me. I felt like I was pushed to feel a certain way for these people, to then feel like none of it mattered in the first place.

Maybe one day I’ll read it again, now that I know where it goes, just to see if maybe a re-read would allow more understanding and depth on my end.

Received via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

The premise of this novel is fascinating: a novelist, Madeleine creates a character, Edward, also a writer, who becomes more real to her than her own life. As she immerses herself in his life, her imagined character starts engaging with her, in turn. The novel is told from both their points of view: both sense, and feel each other, and can even “see” each other. Says Madeleine in conversation: “I can see him so clearly. It’s like he exists, like I’m being allowed to watch.” And in another passage we’re on Edward’s side as: “Edward looked up and for a breath it seemed that their eyes met, locked, that they recognised one another.”
Imagined, fictional life takes over from reality, to the point where the lines really are crossed. The story hangs on Madeleine’s creation of Edward and a crime he commits at the hand of her pen – yet, in his own world, Edward is no fictional creation, but a real life human being who is also bringing Madeleine to life through his own writing.
It sounds slightly absurd and fantastical – but in Sulari Gentill’s this is all perfectly believable and plausible. And it’s a delight to read compulsively on. This is a story, in the end about fiction, about how a writer creates, and writes in and out of plot difficulties, about the process of writing. It’s about the full absorption a writer brings to the act of fiction – but, of course, this novel “crosses the lines” in so many ways, with the two interacting. This was an absorbing, powerful read about the process of creation. The ending, while disappointing, also speaks to the madness that can engulf a creative in the process of “crossing the lines” – but is authentic to the narrative in the end.

The idea of this book really intrigued me; however, I didn't find it was executed well. I was on board until the sex scenes with a figment of her imagination. I felt that it cheapened the novel and turned it into something I never would have read. These characters annoyed me. It was hard to continue reading when I could care less about them. I wasn't satisfied with the ending either. It almost felt as if it was too abrupt with no closure.

Every now and again I come across an author who is so good that it’s hard to believe I haven’t heard of them. Sulari Gentill is awesome.
Crossing The Lines is a difficult book to describe because it is meta-fiction. In this case, the device is that of crime author Madeleine d’Leon, known for writing rather cosy and popular historical mysteries about a Victorian maid.
Madeleine is recovering from her latest miscarriage which has taken a physical and mental toll on her and caused a little distance between her and her physician husband, Hugh.
She has an idea for a new crime novel; this time featuring a writer of literary fiction and she calls him Edward McGinnity; Ned for short. Madeleine is not the kind of writer who meticulously plots her stories. Rather she likes to allow her stories to develop organically and for her characters to take the story in the direction it wants to go.
Ned becomes involved in a criminal investigation when he is attending an exhibition created by his unrequited love, Willow. At this exhibition an art critic is killed and initially in defence of Willow, Ned begins to investigate.
The second strand to Crossing The Lines is that of literary fiction writer, Edward McGinnity. Edward is a bit of a loner; a man who, because he is suffering the pangs of unrequited love, submerges himself in writing introspective literary fiction. Edward’s new book is about a crime fiction author, Madeline D’Leon and he is writing not a crime novel, but is looking at the way in which small events can take on massive proportions.
If all this sounds a bit pretentious, be assured it is anything but. This is a novel written with the lightest of touches. Each chapter starts with either Madeleine or Edward as the writer and the two share thoughts, agents and each other’s jokes until it is impossible to know who the real author is and who is fictional.
As a writer’s affectation, this would be interesting, but this book is so much more than that. It’s a complex and beautifully written look at the writer’s creative process and how easy it can be to blur the line between imagination and reality – especially when imagination proves to be so much better than life.
I really liked this book – it is imaginative, different and above all, beautifully written. I will certainly be seeking out her other works.

Thousands of years ago, a Chinese philosopher wrote about waking from a dream in which he was a butterfly. Upon waking, he wasn’t sure if he was a man dreaming he was a butterfly or a butterfly dreaming he was a man. This puzzle is a good introduction to Sulari Gentill’s Crossing the Lines, in which two writers get tangled up each others’ stories, each believing that they are the real author and that the other is just the main character of their next novel. After a few chapters, it’s hard to know which of the authors is real and which is just a figment of imagination.

There are two interleaved plots in Crossing the Lines. In one, Edward McGinnity is a writer of sad literary novels who pines for a women who married another man. For his new novel, he invents a crime writer, Madeleine d’Leon, who is having trouble with her marriage. Like his other novels, this new one will explore the small events of a life and how those events can grow so large they become psychologically devastating.

In the other plot thread, Madeleine d’Leon is taking a break from her popular historical mysteries to write something a bit more challenging. She invents an author, Edward McGinnity, who becomes involved in a criminal investigation when an art critic is killed at an exhibition of the object of his affection’s art. Big, dangerous events keep intruding on his previously quiet, introspective life until he has no choice but to turn detective to keep himself out of jail.

Each chapter of Crossing the Lines will start with either Madeleine or Edward, then morph into the other’s story as each author gets to work on the next part of their novels. I was hugely entertained by the way they share a literary agent or little in-jokes they put into their tales. Both of them regret the need to introduce unpleasant plot elements to move their novels along. Madeleine, for example, feels bad about the thugs she sends to beat up Edward. Edward prods Madeleine to confront her marriage and her miscarriages. After a while, though, the two plots bleed so far into each other that both authors begin a reality-bending relationship with each other.

Crossing the Lines is a new entry in a small sub-genre of metafiction in which we not only see writers at their craft but also see lines between reality and fiction blend so far that the fourth wall is just a distant speck in the rearview mirror. I love novels that break that wall, like Jasper Fforde’s Thursday Next series, Helen Oyeyemi’s Mr. Fox, and Gordon McAlpine’s Woman with a Blue Pencil. Some readers might not like it when that barrier gets demolished because it ruins the illusion. Personally, I feel that novels like this—where characters step out of their stories—let me imagine that characters have lives outside of their tales and that the stories continue after I finish the last page. I adored Crossing the Lines.

I received a free copy of this book from NetGalley for review consideration. It will be released 1 August 2017.