Thank you Riverhead Books for providing this digital advanced readers copy via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.

Audition is my first Katie Kitamura novel, and her writing is beautiful. The story centers on a working actress who has enjoyed some success, and the life she leads in Manhattan with her husband. She’s in rehearsals for a new play, and meets a younger man who wants to speak privately with her. Kitamura creates a world where you want more detail, and it’s easy to keep reading. The second half of the book (Act II?) offers a different perspective, with the same people, but it’s a different story. Very interesting take.

Audition begins with a woman and a man sitting down to eat in a restaurant. The unnamed narrator is meeting a younger man, Xavier, for lunch when she sees her husband walk in to the restaurant, behave unusually, and then abruptly leave, kicking off the main conflict of the story. The narrator is an actress working on a play told in two distinct acts, working on the scene that will bridge the two acts and trying to do the play justice. The narrator must also navigate her increasingly complicated relationships with her husband and Xavier, which only grow more tangled together as the story goes on. The story covers topics of motherhood, family, romantic relationships, and aging all set against the backdrop of the theater.

I can appreciate the writing and the narrative structure of this story, but overall I felt like it was a bit too cerebral for my liking. I enjoyed the way that the story was told in a format similar to the play, but honestly I would have liked to hear even more about the play, although I understand this was not the point. The story was both too specific and not specific enough. We know that this play is fabulous and amazing, it talks about grief and is told in two parts, but nothing else. On the other hand, we're completely trapped inside the narrator's head having to read all of her thoughts about the way that a character raised their eyebrow or moved their hand and what that means about their relationship with each other. She was meant to be an unreliable narrator, but particularly in the first half the narrative was bogged down with way too many details. The second half had more action and plot, so I enjoyed it more, especially seeing how the relationships between the characters developed. I would recommend this to readers who enjoy cerebral, introspective books with unreliable narrators.

3 stars

While I'm falling smack in the middle on this, I expect this newest effort from Kitamura will be somewhat polarizing for many readers.

As an experienced reader of Kitamura's work would expect, the writing is lovely. The scope is somewhat ambitious, and readers are required to put in effort here. I needed a second read for this one, I'm not afraid to admit.

This is an entirely different read from _Intamacies_, which is what brought this author into my orbit in the first place. It's tough, but with the right attention, readers will get a unique and pleasant experience here.

I once had the privilege of listening to Katie Kitamura read an excerpt from Audition, and talk a little bit about how it's in conversation with A Separation and Intimacies, and I had her talk in mind as I read this gorgeous book. She said she intentionally chose women whose careers have to do with understanding other peoples' words: an interpreter, a translator, and now, in Audition, an actor. Each of her books deals with the ways we do and don't communicate with one another; the ways we say and don't say what we mean, and how we telegraph meaning to others while interpreting, through our own lenses, what they are trying to telegraph to us.

This sounds overly heady, but it was helpful context for decoding Audition. It's perhaps Kitamura's most confounding book in this triptych, and also, in some ways, the most rewarding. The protagonist is an actor who comes into contact with someone who claims to be her son, which she knows is impossible. Still, she's agrees to meet with him, and a kind of relationship develops between them, one that is partly maternal and partly professional. This development complicates and deepens the narrator's relationships with her work and with her husband. In Kitamura's typical style, she beings to build a mysterious and complex story while dropping some of the most astute observations about marriage, work, art, and motherhood I've ever read.

If you find yourself confused while reading this book, just let yourself be confused. Don't try too hard to make it make sense. Just read it for the insights and the feelings. The ending is certainly ambiguous, but also moving; I'll drop my interpretation of it into the spoiler alert section. But without spoiling it, I read this entire book on a meditation on performance. How we are always, in a way, performing – playing the role we think is expected of us, as wives, as professionals, as parents, as friends. It can become difficult, even for just a regular person, to being to disentangle what's "real" from what's performance.

I haven't stopped thinking about this book since I read it, and I loved it, not in spite of its challenges but because of them.

Our narrator, an older & respected actress, nervously meets a young man for dinner in a Midtown restaurant one night. Who is he? How long have they known each other? These are the questions that you'll be asking as you dig in to Kitamura's latest, and they may not be answered by the time you reach the last page. This psychological thriller may not be for everyone, but I couldn't put it down!

This book help me in its grip from beginning to end and I have not been able to stop thinking about it since. The story begins with a woman going to meet a younger man for lunch. Something has happened between these two that makes the interaction tense and awkward, but the narrator obscures the facts of the situation in a way that forces the reader to fill in gaps, constantly second guessing our interpretations and assumptions. The precision with which Kitamura describes subtle shifts in emotion and power dynamics is nothing short of magical. I was enthralled. This is a book that requires vigorous active reading and is commenting on the process of reading through its structure. While it is wildly different in scope, plot, tone, and style, the experience this most closely reminded me of was Eleanor Catton’s The Luminaries. Like Catton, Kitamura is using a rigorous structure to force the reader into a sort of metacognitive process about the nature of plot and storytelling. Audition, however, is also interested in implicating the reader by suggesting a connection between the craft of a novel and the craft of constructing a lived reality. I can confidently say that there are readers who will throw this book across the room when they finish. I can also say that you must, MUST, read this slowly and carefully. There are several details mentioned once that, if missed, completely alter an understanding of the novel. And perhaps that is what I appreciated most about Audition. It is fighting tooth and nail against a sort of passive readerly experience and inviting readers into the realm of close reading. Without verging into a dictatorial author role, Kitamura instructs her readers on how to read the work and—if we follow along—we are guaranteed a highly provocative and unique experience.

I find it difficult to pin down exactly how I feel about this book—some aspects were amazing and others were a let-down so I think I fall somewhere in the middle. The writing, especially in the first half, really resonated with me. I loved how internal and reflective the main characters narration is, and there were many lines that stuck out to me.

As we moved into part two, though, the suspension and unease builds and the writing became a little bogged down. The problem lies in the fact that I believe this to be the point! How do you rate a book that is a somewhat difficult experience when that was exactly the goal? This obviously comes down to personal preference but overall, I can enjoy being confused by media, following a story through the lens of an unreliable narrator. In order to do this, though, I need some sort of satisfaction at the end, a clarity as to what the truth or point really was all along. Maybe this makes me a lazy reader, or maybe it just means the book simply isn’t for me…

Overall, I definitely think that this book is worth the read! I just can’t promise that you’ll enjoy it, if you’re even supposed to.

I love a formally inventive novel, and this certainly delivered! I would love to book club this once it's out in the world, as I'm curious what others will make of it.

I found Part 1 a bit slow/repetitive, but I kept going because I expected from the description that there would be some sort of twist—and it paid off. Though the mode of storytelling didn't change much, Part 2 felt much more layered because everything had to be considered ~in conversation~ with Part 1.

"I COULD EVEN BE THE CENTRE OF THE STORY"

Fabulous. I've been a fan of Katie Kitamura since A SEPARATION and, along with INTIMACIES, have watched this loose trilogy form itself in real time, the way that Rachel Cusk built hers with the OUTLINE trilogy, except, unlike Cusk, Kitamura utilizes genre conventions in order to inject her narratives with a pulse, with stakes and intrigue that does indeed, as the cover says, make it compulsively readable. The style in all the novels is the name: spare, taut prose and a close first-person consciousness that allows the narrator to give us X-rays about thoughts and feelings in the present and allow for flashbacks to take place, all of which either clarify the readers doubts or deepen the mystery. She withholds just enough information, her restraint is impeccable, to make your head go into circles, and I think this is a sort of confidence that comes with experience, but she takes risks that bewilder the reader and trusts that you will sit with the ambiguity and ambivalence until to the end so that you can be rewarded. At the very moment the initial question is answered and the book starts to loosen its grip, she knows exactly how to snap you back into it and make you re-think what you thought you knew. That's what you call control folks: a writer who knows what they are doing, so that the archetypical stuff in the beginning (for example: is he cheating on me?) becomes, for the moment, secondary, only so that it can return later on, a subconscious return; or the way that the narrator seems to "forget" facts (like where she first heard of Hana) and it makes the reader go: "I know exactly what page it was mentioned!" It was after the mid-way point (the book is divided into two acts: 6 chapters and 7 chapters) that I felt Kitamura's affinity with the French writer Marie N'Daiye (who Kitamura has actually written about) and she succeeds in conjuring the same sort of a volatile fictional landscape where feelings like anxiety, paranoia, jealousy, desire, anger, and viciousness are able to bubble up to the surface with such dramatic flair (before that, I wrote in my notes: Elena Ferrante, Natalia Ginzburg, Clairce Lispector). It helps that all the chapters are almost the same length and are paced so well (prime for film adaptation: and speaking of film, at first I thought it was going to be like DRIVE MY CAR then SECRETS & LIES but then I realized it's corollary is actually WHOSE AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?). And of course there is the insight that Kitamura weaves into the tapestry: about performance, about identity, about relationships and family (which I want to unpack in a formal review) that makes your pause, underline and hope that you will imbibe. It's a definitely a book that can be spoiled and I think if you are planning to read it you should read as little about it as you can BUT it's not the sort of spoiler that, once revealed, will dampen the work, in fact that sense of befuddlement that Kitamura produced in me remains: I'm still working out the knot.

*Thank you for Riverhead and Penguin Press for providing an advance reader's copy. A formal review will follow closer to publication.

God, this was a slog. It's a short book that felt ten times as long because it was just so confusing. Is the narrator losing her mind? Is the mysterious Xavier her son, her lover, her stalker? Kitamura is a beautiful writer but almost nothing happens and I was totally lost most of the time. I finally read some other reviews that posited the main character had dementia, which would make sense, but doesn't make for an enjoyable read.

We all wear masks, disguising our true selves and manipulating who we are and how we talk depending on our circumstances and the company we are keeping at the time. That is the heart of sociolinguistics, a topic that the author is exploring in novel form.

The narrator is an actress, intellectually and emotionally involved with a young man. There is a frisson of sexual excitement about their relationship that she does not want to acknowledge. She is much older than him and is in a happy long-term marriage. However, she finds that her interactions with this young man bring to the surface marital secrets that eat at her.

She is in the preparatory stages of a play and is finding it difficult to discover her true self vs. her acting self. She finds herself angry at the playwright, who she blames for a poor juxtaposition of the play's acts.

Overall, I thought there was beauty in the spareness of the novel but I found it a bit too oblique.

Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for an early eARC

A mobius strip indeed...the writing is spare and beautiful; HOWEVER, following the narrative became too confusing and difficult for me. And, if one expects resolution....Not happening .

Uh what the heck just happened? Or what was real?
I wanted answers but but I think the characters didn't really know either.

I was intrigued right away by the way something felt to be missing from every part ofthe story but by the end of the first part I was ready for something to happen and it felt like the protagonist was feeling the same way — She wasn’t sure where her life was going and I wasn’t sure where the book was going. Two pages later part two started and I was instantly re-dialed in (and re-disoriented).

The writing was really beautiful. I felt like a fly on a wall for the conversations and could feel the awkwardness, tension and emotion in every scene. I'd recommend it for that but if you're looking for a clear plot with an ending that spells everything out then I wouldn't recommend it for you.

This was such a pageturner AND an intellectual delight. Kitamura pushes her readers not only to dissect her story but also to interrogate the interplay between artistry and life. I'll be thinking about this one for a long time.

I have loved everything that Katie Kitamura has published and Audition is no exception. This book was a ride, in the best way. It's so unique to anything else I've read and I appreciated it. The way the plot and characters are written, it lets you figure things out on your own. I definitely can see there being two types of readers for this, the ones who love it and the ones who will not love it. I'm in awe of this, honestly. It's so unique and different! I will be recommending this to everyone.

Absolutely excellent. While there are stylistic similarities to her previous book, Intimacies, Audition really is its own strange book, and its one that consistently surprised me. I've found myself thinking of it a lot since finishing it, and hope to reread soon, to see what I might have missed on a first read. It's about perfomativity, the slippery nature of identity and also the blurry line between life and art. And also parenting - a topic I don't usually care that much about, but in the case of Kitamura, anything she touches becomes inherently interesting. Last year I read a lot of Marie NDiaye, the French writer, and I found myself thinking of her work while writing this book, wondering if Kitamura was influenced by her. The moments where settings/people become estranged from themselves are rendered in a very NDiaye way.

Audition is an experimental-ish novel, divided into two parts. Both relate the interactions of the narrator, her husband Tomas, and a man, Xavier, who is either her son or isn't. At the same time, she is performing in a play where her character undergoes a major shift midway through, which seems to mirror her own in this book. She's most definitely unreliable, but the book doesn't necessarily lead you straight to the answer of what reality is. There's plenty of plot, some dialogue, and clear characters - I was frequently immersed in them - but you need to draw your own conclusions at the end. I enjoyed the writing, but, I suppose, appreciate more obvious answers in books. I'm sure Kitamura's fans will like this a lot; others might be unpredictably hot or cold on it.

I adore Kitamura. I thought it was interesting how many times the word "intimacy" or "intimacies" appeared in /this/ work. She continues to astound and reveal and I have nothing of value to comment as a result other than that I highly recommend.

This book was like “black swan” level of you don’t know what is real and what is not. The narrative really did play out like some dark psychological Arronofsky movie in my head, or at least that’s how it felt for the last half of it where you’re like whaaaaat is happppening.

Kitamura is a master of mood and tension - her other two novels Intamacies and A Separation gave me this unsettling feeling of inhabiting this weird, otherworldly and liminal space. Audition really expands her writing within that same mode in my opinion. Her sentences are so beautifully constructed and read so smoothly *chefs kiss* - I really liked it for that reason and I couldn’t put it down…

However, did I want the plot to make a little more sense? Sure the part of me as a reader who wants answers wanted something a little neater I guess. On the other hand, I have total respect for a novel that lets you speculate and question every detail in a kaleidoscopic rabbit hole, making you wonder if a particular bit of dialogue or character behaviour may or may not matter or give you answers.

Audition is a novel that gives readers a lot to ponder on about performance and interpretation and reception - not only within artistry but also life. But aren’t the lines between artistry and life pretty blurry? They definitely are in this book.

I have a strong feeling Audition might be a super divisive book for mass audiences, but love it or hate it, there’s something rare and bold about Katie Kitamura’s writing that is wholly her own and unique. I can promise you that it is quite extraordinary to read and experience.

"Tension grew out of every scene, scenes in which nothing took place and people said very little, and yet the pressure grew and grew so that by the end of the play I realized I had been in a sickening state of unease for sometime." - Katie Kitamura, Audition

This quote from Kitamura's latest novel perfectly encapsulated how I felt about the book overall. Audition follows the first person point of view from an older actress who is approached by a younger man claiming, perhaps impossibly, to be her son. The perspective of the protagonist in this novel is incredibly claustrophobic. She is constantly searching every other character for signs of suspicion or unease. Even though nothing much happens in Audition, Kitamura is able to create a taut string of tension to propel the book forward. Sometimes I found this compulsive and other times grating. Overall, Audition is very a skillful story, even if not always the most enjoyable one, but one has the sense that this was the author's design.