Unfinished business: the allure of the incomplete novel

There’s something magnetic about the unfinished novel. These are books that gesture towards a whole, yet never quite arrive. They end mid-thought, mid-sentence, or mid-dream. 

And rather than leaving us cold, they pull us in. Think of Kafka’s The Castle, Sylvia Plath’s Double Exposure, or David Foster Wallace’s The Pale King. Each offers a kind of literary excavation site. We don’t simply read, we speculate, sift, and imagine.