The book’s organising principle is elusive – not as clearly elucidated as in the Outline Trilogy, surely – and feels random. But it also imbues a welcome open-endedness in a wide-ranging novel which tackles abortion, death, abuse, suicide and self-hatred. These are not pleasurable things by any measure and there is little to no beauty and redemption in Cusk’s monologues. But the chief pleasure of a Cusk novel is in the quality of the eavesdropping on such taboo topics and, in this case, Parade delivers a generous and illicit transcript.
Less a study of the woman artist and more a study of how the woman artist is talked about, Parade finds Cusk at the limits of the novel and the essay, saying something truly new.
While it is not an overt happily-ever-after, it echoes the sentiments of something else Shepherd tells readers in her author’s note: “I want All This & More to ask what it is to be happy and to examine what a choice really costs, but most of all, I want to invite you on an adventure.” And an adventure it certainly is.
Imamura’s writing appears to be vanilla, but her monotonous, matter-of-fact storytelling does not sugarcoat the depth of emotion. And as Imamura sets up everyday situations and lets them unfold with turns that can only be described as weird, she hooks the reader as she blurs the lines between reality and illusion.