There are some novels that feel perfectly aimed at me. “Biography of X” is absolutely one of them because its story and central subject matter are the sort I most enjoy reading. Like in Hustvedt's “The Blazing World”, Lacey's new novel considers the phantasmagoric life of a fictional female artist. It's an intelligent exploration of the meaning of identity considering whether this is formed through inherent characteristics, self-creation or projections from other people. This is clearly a preoccupation for the author as her novel “Pew” explored this meaningful question from a different angle. Yet the premise of this new novel is in some ways more ambitious and expansive as it's a very playful mixture of fact and fiction which also pursues a central intimate mystery. Ultimately, this tale is also about the dilemma of how much we can truly know the people we love the most because no matter how close we feel to them there will always be aspects of their lives which will remain hidden and unknown.

A complex artist named X has died. Her widow CM embarks on researching X's life and interviewing people from her past in order to write an account to set the record straight and learn more about her own puzzling wife. In the process she describes how X's life intersected with a fascinating array of real historical and current artists, writers and cultural figures. It's so fun to see how personalities such as Susan Sontag, Andy Warhol and Max Porter enter the story. However, the more CW learns about her deceased wife the more she realises how little she understood her. X's elusiveness was part of her work as a shapeshifting figure in the manner of artists such as Sophie Calle or Cindy Sherman. Her process of radical reinvention from country life to cosmopolitan “it girl” is also akin to the character of Holly Golightly – if Capote's character were a radical artist. Additionally, X needed to escape her past as this novel presents a revisionist history where America became politically divided in a way even more outwardly extreme than what exists today. Like in the first section of “To Paradise”, in this version of America same sex marriage has been legal for much longer than it has been in reality. Gradually we come to understand the various ways in which X's artistic mission was both personally and politically motivated.

Alongside Lacey's text there are a number of photographs throughout the novel which further blend fact and fiction as well as illuminating the biographical detail of X's life. It's so creative how Lacey explores the way events in history might have differently played out and how certain figures such as Emma Goldman could have had a key political role if circumstances had been slightly different. As with many biographies, the text can reveal more about the biographer than the subject. CW must gradually separate what she wanted X to be from the person she actually was. As she's confronted with the versions of X that existed for the subjects she interviews a blurry understanding of the real woman appears. But how much can you truly know such a human changeling and how much can you really understand someone when, as the philosopher William James described, we have as many personalities as the people we know? These universal questions are poignantly applied to a wildly entertaining story that's like a masterful puzzle and an exposé of a sumptuous hidden history.

I've always been a quiet person. Even when I feel like I'm just as present and chatty as everyone else around me, people have always remarked on how quiet I am. But one of the interesting things this has allowed me to notice is how much people reveal about themselves - not so much in the content of their speech but the way they say things shows a lot about their preoccupations, insecurities, desires and fears. The very quiet narrator at the centre of Catherine Lacey's novel “Pew” is suddenly discovered sleeping in the church of a small American town and because the narrator is found on a pew the locals call this anonymous individual Pew. Even though we the readers are privy to Pew's thoughts we don't know any details about their past or identity. Pew is an adolescent of indeterminate age, indeterminate race and indeterminate gender because their appearance is so ambiguous. No matter how much the town's inhabitants enquire Pew barely ever responds and certainly provides no answers. As the community tries to determine what to do with this mysterious young vagabond, many individuals have private one-sided conversations with Pew where they confess their emotions and unintentionally reveal many of their prejudices. We follow Pew's many encounters over the course of a week leading up to a strange ritualised local ceremony.

This novel's simple premise grants a lot of space to ask teasing sociological and psychological questions about the nature of community and identity. What traits or qualities ensure our acceptance amongst a group of people? How far does our empathy extend to people who are unknown to us? To what degree do our unique characteristics define or inhibit who we are as individuals? Why do categorisations matter so much in our society? These all arise as the town's inhabitants either rigorously try to define exactly what Pew is or simply accept Pew for whoever they are. Within Pew's meditations there are even more overt philosophical queries raised about the nature of being: “Can only other people tell you what your body is, or is there a way that you can know something truer about it from the inside, something that cannot be seen or explained in words?” In this way, there's a fascinating tension built up over the course of the novel about the nature of subjective experience.

While I worried at first that this all might be too pondering I felt the story had a lightness to it in balancing Pew's observations with the local's italicized speeches. It's something like Alice's episodic adventures through Wonderland encountering many puzzlingly curious personalities along the way. So it gradually develops into a strangely captivatingly meditative journey. Of course, this story's construction also presents some troubling issues. Even though people are prone to saying more than they mean to when confronted with a very quiet individual, people aren't often quite as confessional as many in this novel who relate their deeply-personal histories and most intimate secrets to Pew. There's also a danger in these speeches made to Pew, some from bleeding-heart liberal types, that in laying out all their vulnerabilities and faults the author is mocking them more than taking their complex individual positions seriously. But I didn't ultimately feel that this was the case and I found myself compelled by the various connections between people in the town as we meet more and more along the way. The novel also builds larger mysteries about a wife stabbed in the eye, the racially-motivated murder of a child and other outstanding grievances/crimes which culminate in a bizarre festival.

There are teasing, cryptic elements to this story which create an underlying tension like The Wicker Man or Midsommar. But the novel's overarching construction and premise feels more like a cross between Rachel Cusk's “Outline”, Ali Smith's “The Accidental” and Elizabeth Strout's “Anything is Possible”. It's heartening to see this creative take on overly-politicised discussions about identity politics and immigration. Harold, a popular spokesman for the community, rants at one point: “I want justice to prevail, for the good side to win. And in order for that to happen we have got to know who people are. Who they really are.” This novel splits such simplistic ideas and notions open to reveal their dangerous limitations. It's clever how Lacey subtly challenges the reader to not make their own assumptions about Pew's identity as well. I found it to be a very meaningful and ultimately liberating journey to be inside the head of narrator who remains entirely undefined but not unknown.