Today I received an email from Jan, a bookshop owner in Sweden. He gave me the biggest compliment I could hope for:  that my work is hard to categorise.

I finished The Donor today, he wrote, and then read Hot Flush in a single sitting. I really liked them; you take normal, everyday people and put them in drastic but fully believable situations, and it’s somehow liberating to see how they react. I love your work but I cannot define it. It’s not really crime writing. It’s not noir in the traditional sense and it’s definitely nowhere close to chick lit. You’re your own genre. It’s fiction, but your own particular brand. Feisty relationship-grounded novels that tend to spiral out of control. That’s too long a description… I thought of Helen Zahavi as a comparison, and it is feminist in the sense that women in your books are not classic victims. And that too I find liberating

What do you call your work?

I emailed back to say I don’t know – and I don’t want to know!

Thanks Jan of Uppsala Bookshop!


~ by helenfitzgerald on April 5, 2011.

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