OPACITIES

The author of The White Mosque reflects on her literary self.

“I wrote to you of a writing method: Take notes on index cards and put them in a shoebox. When the box is full, the book is done,” writes Samatar near the beginning of her second work of nonfiction, which she hopes will “be a tonic; not a course of study, but a course of treatment.” In a series of short notes addressed to an unspecified recipient, the author reflects on her attempts to find “a writing method” that feels “less like writing and more like living,” while also grappling with the practicalities of a creative life, which include a lack of sufficient time, a struggle against the complexity of being relegated to the “diversity sideshow,” and a desire to be considered marketable enough to be “sold.” To make sense of the contradictions of her chosen path, Samatar quotes a variety of literary thinkers, ranging from historical stalwarts like Kafka and Barthes to modern writers of color such as Bhanu Kapil and Theresa Hak Kyung Cha. Throughout, Samatar linguistically circles back to the idea of her truest literary self, constantly returning to the question, “Who are you when you write?” On a line level, this formally inventive book is a pleasure to read. The author’s confessional tone, tightly efficient sentences, and use of white space produce a stunning aesthetic. Structurally, though, the notes spiral between a set of unanswerable questions and their associated emotions without landing satisfyingly. While the ending’s ambiguity is aligned with the book’s tone (and its title), the story feels more like a moment in time than a narrative arc, leaving readers wondering exactly how the process of writing this book affected Samatar’s perception of herself within and outside of her craft.

A sometimes cloudy but beautifully written meditation on the writing life.