I might unwittingly overlook the degree to which the seemingly avant-garde literary style masks their books’ much more banal and mainstream content. Upon a recent reread, I was reminded of just how much of Cusk’s Transit, the second in her Outline trilogy, consists of anecdotes about salon haircuts and home renovation. Is Cusk radically overhauling my relationship to narrative, or do I just wish I had a London flat to rebuild in a desirable neighborhood?
