This book relies on introspection and as such I struggled with it. It is undoubtedly well written with some wonderful prose like qualities but I honestly could not care about Kif, Heidl or Ray. I just felt sorry for Kif's poor wife. I found myself scanning it just to get through it as quickly as I could. Plainly this book was not for me but I'm sure others will find merit in it. Thanks to Random House UK and NetGalley for an ARC of this title in exchange for an unbiased, honest review.

DNF at about 12.5%. You're practically told from the off you won't ever get to know Zig Heil, or whatever the baddie's called, you don't ever get to properly meet the bloke trying to ghost-write his autobiography, and this book's author can't be bothered to tell us who Ray is - so what's the bloody point?

Maybe it is me but I just didn't 'get' the point of this story.
It was hard work to read and I never really got into it or warmed to the characters, in some places it was quite atmospheric but culminated with an unsatisfactory ending and never explained in a satisfactory way, who or what Heidl was.
I don't know if it hinted at conspiracy, supernatural or I don't know, to be honest I couldn't be bothered to care.

I loved the premise for this: a penniless writer is promised $10,000 to ghost write the memoirs of a notorious criminal in six weeks. Part thriller, part literary introspective study and autobiography, what follows was an interesting story - but ultimately it just didn't work for me.

I think the main issue I found was the writing itself. There's no denying it's well written, but at times I struggled with the slow pace of the plot. A lot of the story is dedicated to overly flowery descriptions, and a great deal of time is spent on self reflection rather than actually 'going' anywhere.

That said, Kif's growing unease, depression and his internal struggle is masterfully crafted. As the story progresses, you really see him unravel as he starts to question just who exactly 'Ziggy' is, and how he's being manipulated. The pair seem to have some kind of symbiotic relationship, with each needing the other in a rather unhealthy way. It's cleverly done.

I also enjoyed learning more about the publishing industry, and ther various personalities associated with it, but these were sadly few and far between.

This has 'marmite' written all over it. You're either going to love it or dislike it. Unfortunately I think I fall in the latter category.

Although some of the final parts of First Person were pretty good, I found most of it very hard going. It is the story of Kif, an aspiring writer who, through the need for money and his own ambition, reluctantly agrees to ghost-write the autobiography of Ziggy Heidl, who is awaiting trial as a colossal conman and thief on a scale approaching Bernard Madoff. Heidl is utterly evasive and often a downright liar, so the project becomes almost impossible for Kif who also, somewhat implausibly, is drawn into his own dark identity crisis.

First Person is written by a writer who is writing about a writer who is struggling to write, which should really have been enough to warn me off. I read it because of Flanagan's reputation but frankly, I found most of it to be overwritten and rather tedious. There is an awful lot of stuff like, "No graffiti had yet flowered on the grey concrete…nor damasked the umber and olive renders of the low-rise office buildings…" or "In the silence that followed silence followed," which simply irritated me and when, after 200 long pages, someone said of Kit's book, "Kif, there's interesting things here, but you need something to happen," I said "Exactly!" out loud and with considerable warmth. And toward the end I raised a quizzical eyebrow at the irony of "Although I had nothing to say, I had read enough Australian literature to know this wasn't necessarily an impediment to authorship."

To be fair, the book does begin to pick up toward the end with some sharp observations about current attitudes to truth, deceit and dissimulation of several kinds, and also about cheap, self-important certainties, but it really was a struggle to get to this. There is a great deal of Writing (capital W) but for me there was a good deal less here than meets the eye. In the end, it's a book I was glad to have got out of the way, and I'm afraid I can't recommend it.

(I received an ARC via NetGalley.)

A slow-burning and interesting character study. From the blurb I did expect this to have more of a thriller feel and I was a little disappointed to find it was more of a satire of the publishing industry. However, if you stick with it, it is a rewarding tale and cleverly plotted.

Bad Proof copy unable to read to review Rating is for the the copy not the book as I was unable to read it

Kif, an aspiring novelist, takes on the task of writing the biography of notorious con man Ziggy Heidl before his appearance in court on massive fraud charges. A tense uncomfortable read where few of the many questions raised about Heidl’s life are answered - and where the answers he gives shift and change with his whims. Set against this we see heidl’s insidious influence over Kif as he tries to produce a book which will satisfy the publisher. The meetings between the two men will have a lasting effect on the rest of Kif’s, outwardly successful, life. By the end of the book we realise that maybe it wasn’t just Heidl who was the con man.

This novel makes its mark on several different levels: on one, it's a vivid account of the tribulations of an unsuccessful novelist, Kif - a Tasmanian both obsessed with the need to escape his upbringing and the landscape of his childhood and in thrall to his memories of a more innocent past. He's a punchy, wry, undisciplined character with an appealing line in throwaway remarks and an annoying tendency to wallow in his own failure. It's also a sharp satire on contemporary publishing: when Kif's commissioned out of the blue to ghost write the life story of a notorious businessman facing an imminent fraud trial he's plunged into the venal, cynical, sales-driven world of the book trade, and there are some very funny and pointed caricatures of its less-than admirable inhabitants. And finally it's a complex and thought-provoking exploration of the act of biography and the notion of truth-telling: a pointed, astute, comment on news, fake news, and the places where they overlap. The figure of Siegfried Heidl, the subject of the ghost-written autobiography, is brilliantly drawn; a wealthy and wildly successful operator who slips effortlessly between real and imagined fact, who has achieved success by creating a version of the truth so compelling and attractive to investors they don't want to question it, and who binds people to him through a mixture of awe, greed and fear. Whether we are reminded of another prominent self-inventor, currently enjoying presidential office, will depend on our politics, I suspect.

The book feels slightly uneven in its pace, with a few too many passages where Kif tries to pin down his elusive subject only to be left mulling on the impossibility of his task as Heidl slips off to yet another meeting leaving his ghost writer raging at length and often repetitively. However, his growing unease about how far, as a ghost writer, he's being drawn into the life and lies of his subject, is well described, and the story builds to a tense and unexpected climax, where his frustration turns into something altogether different,

I’m sorry to say, I didn’t complete this novel. It was too confusing and complicated. Perhaps I made the wrong choice in requesting it but I’d certainly not recommend it.

First Person tells the story of Kif, a struggling wannabe novelist who has been hired to act as a ghost writer for the memoir of a corporate criminal, Ziggy Heidl. This proves to be a nigh on impossible task - Ziggy is impossible to pin down. He won't answer questions, he changes his story, he dodges and evades, while the deadline looms ever closer.

Although I know the book is technically god - it's well written and crafted - I found it really frustrating to read. In a way, that could be deliberate. I think it's supposed to be frustrating. Like Kif, you're at the mercy of the inconsistent, unlikeable Ziggy. You're stuck in the tiny office with them both, unable to move forward, It's quite claustrophobic. Like Kif, you get irritated and bored. When things finally start to happen, it came as something of a relief, but so much of the book is taken up with this painful build up that the last third feels quite rushed,

I think the book will stay with me for a while - there's certainly power there - but it wasn't for me.

Not for me.Just couldn't get started. I didn't enjoy the style.

I received a free ecopy of this book in return for an honest review. Many thanks to Netgalley and and the publisher for the opportunity.

First Person follows Kif Kehlmann, a struggling writer who accepts a job to ghost write a famous con man, Ziggy Heidl’s, autobiography. Kif’s wife is expecting twins and he desperately needs the money. Unfortunately for him the book is just another con as Heidl, far from sharing his life story, just uses the time to get in Kif’s head.

Kif plumbs the depths of despair, and to be honest, so did I trying to get through this novel. The lead character, Kif, is thoroughly dislikeable. Even towards the end of the book when the mood is much lighter, he is still a loathsome creature. I felt like character back histories were inserted in lieu of any real efforts to flesh them out during the the story, rather than because they were needed.

At one point Heidl says of American novels “they get great reviews because no reviewer can be bothered getting to the end, so they have to say it’s good“ and I wondered if the joke was on us as I plodded through the seemingly endless overwritten sentences.

In the end, this book is like Mamite, you’re either going to love or you’re going to hate it. Personally I loathed it, but it does give interesting insight into the life of a writer and the workings of publishing houses. There are ideas i will pick over, like scabs later. The question of whether the story was based on Flanagan’s own life will intrigue his fans.

If you are looking for beauty and hope this is really not the book for you, but if you are looking for an angry condemnation of modern life that you can discuss for years, then this one is for you.

It's the last 30 or so pages that really stay with you after rather a forgettable second act.

This book wasn't for me, it was written in a style I found difficult from the start to follow.

I did enjoy this and the premise was certainly gripping. That said there was just something missing for me at least which I can't quite put a finger on. The idea of being consumed by what you write and balancing it with compromises in your day to day life is taken to fairly terrifying extremes here. Fascinating but ultimately the characters left me cold.

This one was just not for me I'm afraid. I appreciated the cleverness of Flanagan's prose, I get that he is a master of his craft. But .... I didn't warm to the characters and ultimately didn't care about their fate. I found the book overly long, self indulgent and going over the same ground over and over again. At the end of the day I found it a real chore to pick up this book and although I did finish it it was only so I could put this review together.

Thanks to Netgalley for providing an advance copy in exchange for an honest review, sorry it wasn't for me.

Miserable Tasmanian author has a hollow life.
I found this book depressing, shallow, intriguing in parts, with distant echos of heart of darkness; mostly I finished reading it because I had started it, not for any great joy or enthusiasm for the story or any of the characters.
Kif, a heavy drinking, selfish, addicted young man tries to be a writer, neglecting his wife and growing family in the process. He blames it on Ziggy Heidl, whom he is ghost writing for. We share Kif''s frustration in the impossibility of tying Ziggy down to any consistent life story. Ziggy is a con-man, non cooperative and tricky, and Kif blames a particular incident for derailing his (Kif''s) life. The scam this con-man undertook parallels the self delusion which led to the financial collapse of 2008,
The narration is at times disjointed and confusing, with ugly and brutal descriptions of the landscape and of people. I won't be re-reading this book.
Health warning: the scene of the twins birth is likely to induce tokophobia.

Curious, almost a metanovel with very persuasive first person narrator's voice. Ghost writing a con man's story in his own voice, except his identity is constantly morphing into someone else, not always rationally. Our narrator is under great financial pressure at home, down to last hundreds .. so since the con man won't tell his story (he's rolling in illicitly acquired money and the publishers want THAT story .. but he's not telling). Our narrator's solution is perfectly in accord with con man ethos - but I won't reveal .. greatly entertaining and even thought provoking.

This was a long, slow read for me. The prose is turgid and intense, like wading through treacle looking for gems. Thankfully, there are quite a few. Wry, reflective, psychological observations on life worth dredging for. But it meant I grew impatient and risked losing the thread of conversation midst the story's divergences.

We meet horribly memorable characters who insinuate their way into our psyche. The tale is told by dispirited writer, Kif, longing for a career breakthrough, jumping at the chance to ghostwrite a memorable memoir for an established publishing company. Heidl, whose memoir Kif is attempting to write, is an elusive, enigmatic trickster and financial fraudster, waiting to face punishment for his crimes.

He is compellingly creepy, inveigling his way under Kif's skin, succeeding in drawing out a sneaky kind of admiration for his mesmerising manner, chameleon character and ability to dodge all direct questions, as well as revulsion for how he spooks, deceives and bankrupts people.

Heidl has the best lines, though Kif's thoughts are often delightfully drawn. The book is well written in places but it wasn't a riveting read for me. However, it draws the reader in with a kind of compulsive magnetism. In his attempt to ghostwrite the memoir in a concertinaed time frame, Kif is sucked into Heidl's power, consumed by his outlook on life and finds it darkly infiltrating and distorting his own.

When we finally reach the end of what feels like a marathon read, it leaves an unsatisfactory taste in the mouth, as though Heidl's wrongdoings and the general lack of a clear moral compass in the major characters has infected us. I felt like I was coming up for air after being incarcerated.

There is no comfortable resolution or getting away from the pollution that inhabits this book like a bad smell. The novel lingers as an unwanted, unforgettable dark shadow in the background of my mind, which makes the author successful, if that was his aim.