Genre: Drama / Literary Fiction (or so it thinks)

Pages: 385

Original language: English

First published: 2024

The plot: A middle aged artist decides to drive across America, but takes a detour into mid-life crisis instead. And from there everything descends into chaos.

Instead of completing the journey, she becomes (overly) pre-occupied with sex, desire, perimenopause, and a series of increasingly questionable (and downright bizarre) life choices. What follows is an exploration of female identity and reinvention that is determined to prove that no impulse is too strange, no thought too trivial, and no intimate detail too much information. And there are many.

The destination? Somewhere between discovery and oversharing. The journey? Painfully, absurdly, long.

What did I think of this book?

This book was hyped to a ridiculous degree on publication. I wanted to like it. I really did. It sounded intriguing, provocative, and July clearly had ambitions of challenging conventional ideas about womanhood, marriage and desire. So far, so promising.

But unfortunately, challenging conventions doesn’t make a book automatically compelling.

All Fours is an exhausting read: it meanders, parts of it make very little sense, and the relentless introspection is about as subtle as a brass band in a library. Every questionable decision (and there are many) is an opportunity for profound self-examination. Except that I failed to spot the profound bit.

There is a fine line between daring and self indulgent, and this novel drives straight across it. Without indicators.

I fully appreciate that this book explores subjects that are often swept under the carpet, particularly female sexuality, perimenopause and the realities of mid-life. But being unconventional isn’t the same as being insightful. Likewise, being explicit is not the same as being interesting.

Reading this book often felt like being trapped in conversation with someone who has just started therapy, has become obsessed with self-help books, and now considers every passing thought a revelation.

I was truly amazed when I reached the end. Quite frankly, I wanted that time back.

What was most interesting about this book? (Spoiler alert : not much)

The most interesting thing about All Fours is the idea behind it: a mid-life woman abandoning expectations and attempting to reinvent herself on her own terms.

There is potential here. Aging, identity, desire, and the pressures that society places on women, are all rich subjects for fiction.

The problem is that the execution is far less successful than the premise. The action occasionally hints at something meaningful, but those moments are so buried beneath introspection that it became, quite frankly, tedious.

This isn’t a book that is afraid to be weird. I just wish it had been a little more discerning about when weirdness actually benefited the narrative.

What am I going to take away from this book?

Probably a renewed appreciation for novels that understand the difference between having something to say, and saying absolutely everything.

A book can be bold, controversial and critically acclaimed without necessarily being enjoyable. Some literary fiction is a lot like modern art: you can stare at it for ages, waiting for a revelation to spark, before quietly wondering if you’ve missed the point. Or perhaps there simply isn’t one (for you, at least).

Will I enjoy this book?

Honestly? I really didn’t.

Perhaps if you enjoy experimental fiction, messy protagonists and unapologetic explorations of sex and getting older, you might (might!) find All Fours refreshing. Those who appreciate Miranda July’s specific brand of surrealism might get more out of it than I did.

But if you enjoy a compelling plot, characters you can connect with, and introspection that doesn’t feel like a never-ending tour of someone’s psyche, I would approach with caution.

Bold? Certainly?

Unconventional? Most definitely.

Enjoyable? Absolutely not.

Sometimes books challenge your perspective. Sometimes they challenge your patience. All Fours managed the latter with a quite staggering consistency.