Showing posts with label R.F. Kuang. Show all posts
Showing posts with label R.F. Kuang. Show all posts

Monday, 8 December 2025

The death of genre? Why writers are dismantling old labels

Blurring the Lines: How Writers Are Dismantling Genre Boundaries
It used to be so simple. You wrote a crime novel, or a romance, or a dystopia. Bookshop shelves were helpful about such things: spine out, genre in. Literary fiction sat in its elegant corner, cool, aloof, unbothered by the commercial hustle elsewhere. Genre fiction was the grafter, busy, popular, and a little bit suspect.

But something is shifting. Writers are slipping past those borders, and readers are following them. In fact, they’re relishing the trespass. Literary novels are embracing dragons and time travel. Crime writers are reaching for unreliable narrators and experimental prose. Romance authors are crafting love stories that refuse tidy arcs. In 2025, the lines feel not so much blurred as beside the point.

Wednesday, 3 September 2025

Genre-blending that defies labels: From Romantasy to experimental fiction

In  Alt Text: A collage of five genre-blending book covers: The Atlas Six, The Serpent and the Wings of Night, We Computers, Babel, and A Touch of Jen. These novels fuse fantasy, romance, satire, speculative fiction, and experimental narrative to challenge literary conventions.
What do you call a novel that blends gothic romance, dark academia, political allegory, and a magic system based on linguistic theory? 

In 2025, the answer might be: a bestseller. Genre boundaries are increasingly porous, and today’s readers are embracing the hybrid. Welcome to the era of genre-blending fiction, where labels are looser, rules more elastic, and expectations deliciously disrupted.

Sunday, 22 June 2025

From Memoir meltdown to dystopian excess: Jame Frey returns with a roar

Like a lot of people, I read A Million Little Pieces when it came out. I read it quickly, swept up by its manic rhythm and gut-punching candour. It felt raw, painful, and honest. 

Then came the controversy: the revelations that much of the book, which had been marketed as a memoir, had been fabricated, culminating in a televised public shaming by Oprah Winfrey in 2006. It wasn’t a memoir at all. More of a novel memoir mashup. A novior, if you like.

It was a moment that seemed to draw a line under Frey's literary future, banishing him to the margins of credibility. He was cancelled.