Crudo book club questions

1. 1.

   Laing wrote Crudo in seven weeks without revising the political context. Does knowing that change how you read the book, or does the process not matter if the result works?

2. 2.

   Kathy is simultaneously Laing and Kathy Acker. What does that doubling accomplish — what can a character-who-is-also-a-ghost say that a straightforward narrator cannot?

3. 3.

   The novel's marriage plot is deliberately thin. Is that a formal choice Laing has earned, or does it feel like an excuse not to write the harder scenes?

4. 4.

   Crudo is full of real news events — Brexit negotiations, Trump tweets, Harvey, Irma. Does embedding real events anchor the novel in time or date it in a way that limits it?

5. 5.

   How does the novel's anxiety feel compared to your own experience of that period? Does it resonate or does it feel like a specifically privileged anxiety?

6. 6.

   Laing's prose borrows from Kathy Acker's cut-up style. If you haven't read Acker, does that matter? Is the novel accessible without the reference point?

7. 7.

   The novel is very short — under 200 pages, probably under two hours of reading. Does that length feel right for what it's trying to do, or does it feel slight?

8. 8.

   Kathy is a writer marrying a man named Ian who is clearly comfortable with commitment in a way she isn't. How does the novel handle the asymmetry between them?

9. 9.

   Is Crudo a novel about the difficulty of being present — in a marriage, in a moment, in a body — or is it itself an example of being unable to be present?

10. 10.

    The anxiety in the novel is inseparable from privilege — Kathy is getting married, going to nice restaurants, taking holidays, even as the world falls apart. Does the novel acknowledge that tension adequately?

11. 11.

    If you've read Laing's nonfiction — The Lonely City, Everybody — where does Crudo sit in her project? Does it feel more or less honest than her essays?

How to run the discussion

• Pick six to eight, not all of them. An hour of real discussion covers fewer questions than anyone expects, and racing the list is what makes a book club feel like homework.
• Open with what people noticed, not what they concluded. Asking for a verdict first hardens opinions before anyone has heard each other.
• Let the disagreement run. The questions below that split a room are the ones worth the time; the ones everyone answers the same way can be skipped.
• Ask the quiet person a specific question. A direct, narrow question is far easier to answer than an open invitation to contribute.