Alphabetisation is a way to achieve this. Alphabetisation as an organising principle at least possesses the virtue of scientific rigour. Alphabetisation is very clean, even when that which is alphabetised is very dirty (I mean dirty in a non-pejorative sense). Although it appears to be a principle that organises without adding meaning to that which is organised, a principle that organises without aiding understanding of that which is organised, that is actually its virtue. Although the experiences to which our memories relate may have been temporally organised, if organised is the right word, our memories are themselves certainly not temporally organised. Diaries are not memories, but memories could be somehow rescued from diaries, if we only knew how. Do we force new conjunctions of meaning upon sentences that abut each other merely due to their alphabetical sequence, and is this a good thing? Experimental writing needs to follow a rigorously scientific method to yield interesting results. Heti could have alphabetised all the words or alphabetised all the letters, but these, although they may have some scientific or statistical value (probably a fairly low value, I would guess), would not have been very interesting. Heti took ten years of her diary entries and put all the sentences into alphabetical order. Heti’s text is 60000 words long; my review is not long enough to be interesting. How would we arrange our lives, our thoughts, if we did not use time as a method of arrangement? I am aware that I am unlikely to do this, for reasons that could reasonably be labelled laziness. I, at least, can seldom stretch my comprehension beyond a sentence. I do not think that my attempt is very successful (even though it doesn’t need to be very successful; somewhat successful would be sufficient), but why not? I do not think that we would have got bored, though we do get bored of many things. Is this interesting? I was going to say that the way in which the book is written transforms its contents, or the context of the contents, changing our experience of the contents from what it would otherwise have been. In any case, you will find Alphabetical Diaries funny, tender, poignant, and certainly good company (or maybe it’s the author who is good company). In presenting Heti’s thoughts non-temporally arranged, the book resembles a personality, which is also a phenomenon non-temporally arranged, similarly expressed from sequentially lived experience. Is this an interesting way to proceed? It is, however, difficult to determine by what principle our memories are organised, if they can be said to be organised at all, or, if they are organised, whether they are organised by a principle, if it is not impossible to be organised without a principle of organisation. It presents that which it organises without imposing a meaning or context that would dictate or influence our understanding. Living, I suppose, is a forwardly propulsive phenomenon, temporally speaking, and reading also is forwardly propulsive wherever it lands upon a text. Memories appear to be associatively organised, which is what could be called a slippery principle of organisation, or a soft principle of organisation. Memory, however, is not forwardly propulsive. Now I will put all my sentences into alphabetical order. Otherwise the knowledge that the method will in due course be applied to it may influence the writing of the text. Perhaps there is a quantum length of text at which alphabetisation reveals repetitions, patterns, tendencies that might otherwise not be noticed (that is to say, in a shorter text). Perhaps, though, the alphabetical method, if we can call it a method, only really works if the author of the text to which it is applied is unaware of its future application to the text. Plot is as artificial in texts as it is in our lives. Reading would not be reading if it didn’t have propulsion. Really it is the having of memories that is associatively organised and perhaps not the memories themselves, if there are such things as memories that are separate from the having of them, which I doubt (though it is hard to say where memories come from if there are not). Really, the alphabetisation of the sentences is an editorial intervention that is more part of the process of reading than of writing. Surprising results are only surprising if we are surprised by them. The alphabetisation dictates how we access the text. The alphabetisation is a morselisation of the writing and has much in common with the way in which we access memory, which also appears in morsels. The book in many ways is a celebration of the sentence because the sentence is the form preserved or foregrounded by the alphabetisation. The sentence is an optimum unit of interest. This is interesting. This makes me want to apply Heti’s alphabetical method to pre-existing works of literature to see what the method may reveal about them once they are liberated from their traditionally temporal arrangement. Time is a harder principle of organisation than association but it is a softer principle than alphabetisation. Time is almost as soft a principle as association. We must free ourselves from plot. We used to read sections of the Alphabetical Diaries when they appeared online about a year ago in The New York Times back when we subscribed to The New York Times, largely, in the end, to read the Alphabetical Diaries. We would read the latest instalment of the Alphabetical Diaries aloud in bed each Sunday morning, alternating the reading so that we could also drink coffee while reading the Alphabetical Diaries. We would still happily be reading instalments of The Alphabetical Diaries in bed on Sunday mornings if the alphabet and our subscription to The New York Times had not run out at pretty much the same time. Why do I present all my ideas, if they can be said to be ideas, as questions? Will my review obscure the book it addresses in the way my reviews typically obscure the books they address? Would it be possible to write a review of this book in the way that the book itself is written, alphabetising the sentences in the review? Would such a review illuminate the book in a way that adds something to our, or my at least, understanding of it? You might think that reading someone else’s diary entries, especially when they are presented without a diary’s traditional organising principle, would become boring if it did not start out boring, but Heti’s sentences are compelling, compoundingly so, either because she has interesting thoughts; or because her thoughts, vulnerabilities, longings and so forth are entirely relatable, if that is not too nauseating a term, even if they are not interesting per se; or because boredom is a temporal phenomenon that has been excluded or bamboozled by the form.

{Thomas}

The way this plays with form and genre really blew my mind. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever read before, yet such a seemingly simple concept. Loved the jumbled yet somehow also organised nature, just a stream of consciousness you could float along with, completely captivated. Full of moments of brilliance - undiluted, unfiltered brilliance.
Really enjoyed the juxtaposition of an utterly unhinged or intensely horny thought immediately followed by a tender, sensitive musing, something more carefully crafted, so insightful. Spent a lot of time chuckling and nodding along to myself.
Such a strong voice throughout. Really gripped me from the beginning, as much as I thought I’d struggle with the structure, if anything it made it easier to read. The pacing often matched the way I tend to think.
Resonate so deeply, as ever, with many many parts. What a mind. Clever, ballsy, fascinating. I had so much fun reading! ♥️

A brilliant book from a brilliant author. Sheila Heti is a longterm favourite and this book continues to cement her as such.

An intriguing idea and I found the reading experience similar to reading Ducks, Newburyport by Lucy Ellmann (though I preferred that because it did develop a bit of linear plot at some point). Recommend not trying to read it all in one go and just going with the flow. Some really lovely observations and sentences. Still yet to find a Sheila Heti book I adore as much as Motherhood though.

Sheila Heti's "Alphabetical Diaries" is a unique experiment in self-reflection. Instead of a chronological narrative, Heti takes ten years of diary entries and arranges them alphabetically, sentence by sentence. This fragmented approach creates a surprising coherence, revealing patterns in her thoughts and anxieties over time.

While unconventional, the book offers an intimate portrait of Heti's life. We encounter moments of joy, despair, and deep introspection on topics like love, creativity, and the purpose of art. Heti's prose is sharp and often witty, making the unconventional format surprisingly engaging.

"Alphabetical Diaries" won't be for everyone. Those seeking a traditional memoir may find the disjointed structure frustrating. However, for readers open to a new way of storytelling, this book offers a thought-provoking exploration of the human experience and the power of language.

I just know there is a Sheila Heti book out there that I will adore, but this wasn’t it sadly.

A collection of ten years worth of Sheila’s diary entries collated in alphabetical order, this sounded a really unique structure, but ultimately I found it difficult to fully engage with.

I’m going to read Motherhood soon which I hope will be more up my alley.

Alphabetical Diaries is Sheila Heti’s 10 years worth of diaries rearranged in alphabetical order. Each sentence has now been alphabetised.

You might feel at first like you’re wading through a jumble of sentences but the fog does lift up, it reveals patterns & motifs. It’s about trusting your human impulse to find order in disorder, reason in chaos.

The themes are recognisable: art, men, the meaning of life, writing, family, friends, ambivalence towards motherhood, sex, all of this mixed up with mundane to-do lists.

“It seems the main accomplishment now is to make a thing like a baby. It seems urgent and necessary. It should flow like ink from a pen. It should show the hole, the lack. It sounded like a 16th century world.”

There is something playful about the randomness of these sentences, it feels at times like a living puzzle where the pieces magically join together. Witness the clusters of grief, confusion, anger or horniness assemble like a murmur of starlings.
The sentences create new synapses, these juxtapositions create new meanings, sometimes hilarious, sometimes profound.

As interesting as this experience has been, I am not sure that I wouldn’t have equally enjoyed her diaries in a chronological form. I was driven partly by my love for Sheila Heti’s singular voice, her hard-hitting aphorisms, her ability to express the petty & the uncomfortable. And partly by a voyeuristic curiosity for the inner human experience.

One question stayed with me as I was reading Alphabetical Diaries. What is my place here as a reader?
Diaries are not traditionally written with a reader in mind & when Heti randomises her output, the possibility of a relationship between reader and writer feels even more diffused.
I feel a little shallow pondering on the matter, but is it important to feel like you are wanted when reading any piece of writing?
I never felt like I was invited in the room with Heti, but rather relegated behind the door, peeping through the keyhole like a creepy little goblin.

Stream of consciousness writing style. Because the diary entries are written from A to Z it makes the writing almost stilted as Heti jumps around into non linear timelines. Just not for me so DNF

Sheila Heti is known for her willingness to play with form and creative processes. Here she dives into what’s been dubbed experimental non-fiction with a piece that evolved slowly out of Heti’s own diaries. Ones she kept over a period of years, deliberately pared-down and gradually reorganised, ruthlessly edited so that 500,000 sentences became a selection of 60,000. All arranged in alphabetical order, from sentences beginning with ‘A’ onwards. Carefully-curated sentences which Heti then attempted to analyse, searching for patterns, for submerged clues to the nature or meaning of her life in progress. Some aspects may be familiar from the extracts from earlier versions published in n+1 and later The New York Times.

The end result can be frustratingly enigmatic, even bewildering at times but it can also be strikingly provocative, playful, and weirdly intimate. Heti’s sentences range from banal descriptions of meal plans to aphoristic sayings about art or love or sex worthy of Karl Kraus. Fragments of stories emerge, portraits of friendships, encounters, places, and the process of writing. Stretches read like prose poetry, others hang together precariously – intended meanings inflected by happenstance, associations imposed by the act of reading itself, my brain refusing, or unable, to resist attempts to impose structure or pry out underlying narratives. Heti’s piece has been compared to Joe Brainerd’s representation of his life experiences in his resonant I Remember a work I also found surprisingly rich despite its outward simplicity. Heti’s piece is not quite as visceral, or always as immediate, as Brainerd’s but I found it compelling throughout.

“Today is Lemons’s wedding. Today is Thursday. Today is Tuesday. Tonight he said that pain was not punishment, and I cried in bed with him, although I’m not sure he knew it;”

A fragmentary memoir told in a non-linear fashion so that all timelines converge in a way that muddies the truth. Raw and vulnerable, experimental and deeply observational. This was a quick, engaging and propulsive narrative, written with a sense of urgency. This was my first Heti but it won’t be my last.

Often, our impulse is to chronicle the past linearly. The pursuit of diarism and journaling is to regurgitate the day as it happened, as if this might make sense of history. In this work, Heti scrambles time, reducing a discrete period into its constituent parts and reassembling them into a new whole.

I wanted to love this but I hated it so much. Perhaps it’s just a failure of imagination on my part.

I’m actually not sure when this comes out, so apologies if I’m about to recommend something you can’t read for months, but even on a purely FORM level, Sheila Heti’s latest book is genius. She’s taken her diaries from the last ten years, alphabetised every sentence and, somehow, it works and feels completely effortless. I’m absolutely certain that my diary sentences in alphabetical order would be a) nonsensical, and b) of very little interest.

This was so strange to read, but I loved it? The fragmented nature of all the scattered sentences, forcing you to try connect the dots between what sentence you’re reading, to one you read earlier in the book. A new and remarkable way to give a snapshot into your life.

This was my first Heti book, and I will be picking up more!

My first Heti and I am definitely wanting to read more! I was not convinced by the concept before reading but wow was I wrong. A fascinating and original book that I would recommend to fans of Annie Ernaux and streams of consciousness like Ducks, Newburyport.

This was my first encounter with Sheila Heiti. 'Alphabetical Diaries' is unusual, distinctive and compelling. It feels like it shouldn't possibly work - the author having let go of the reins and allowed an Excel file to structure her diary entries alphabetically - but somehow this bizarre and playful approach results in a really propulsive tension. The next line wasn't intentionally placed to resolve or build upon the previous one, instead having landed there coincidentally. It's fascinating. I wonder what we'd all learn from clustering our own private thoughts in this way.

I had never read anything by Sheila Heti before, so the only thing that drew me to this book was the description. The concept seemed really interesting, but as I started reading it I thought that it could go terribly wrong.
It turns out *I* was wrong, because I really enjoyed this book!

At times it’s more introspective, then it’s more descriptive of people and relationships. You can be reading a more philosophical bit about the human condition, and the next thing you’re reading is about cake types and textures.

There are some really beautiful sentences and whole passages in it, but what’s really great about it is, because of the way it’s structured, you never know what to expect from the next sentence you’re about to read.

This book, for me, was a very interesting reading experience, and a peek into Sheila Heti’s mind. It made me want to explore more of her work.

This was a fascinating read, one of the most original books I've read in some time. It really reminded me of Ducks Newburyport because of the structure of the sentences and you found yourself utterly convinced by the internal dialogue of the writer. Her obsessions, money, sex, love and creativity are universal and her lunging from self doubt or moments of elation constantly catch the reader off guard. As a 'Portrait of an artist' it is fascinating, and fully immersive.

The premise of this was so interesting to me - ten years of a diary reorganised so that every sentence appears in alphabetical order. I would never have thought that this idea would work, but actually, within each letter you can see areas where the sentences come together to form small scenes, or what you could imagine would work as monologues whether internal or external.

I’ve never read anything by Sheila Heti before, but if her fiction is written like her diaries I’ll definitely be picking some up in future. I enjoyed the stream of conscious effect given by the organisation so would definitely recommend it to people who enjoyed things like Annie Ernaux’s Getting Lost and the diaries of Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath.

This book has an interesting core concept- what happens if you were to take every sentence you wrote in a diary over a certain period and rearranged it not by time, but purely by alphabet?

Although this sounds overly academic at first, I found the effect oddly riveting. Sometimes more banal sentences would gain power just through repetition (several one-word sentences of 'Alone.' pick up an odd pace, for example) and it is interesting to see the effect this has when certain people's names recur, such as exes of hers, where the effect is almost meditative.

Similarly, the effect is often that characters are introduced at the end of another sentence before we have been introduced to them in more detail, and it feels almost novel-like.

A short book, but one where I don't think the concept would have withstood a much longer text anyhow.

I received a digital copy of this book from NetGalley and the publisher in exchange for an honest review.