Rise by karina bliss6/12/2023 ![]() ![]() The art and literary world of her day was like the French court of the 18th century: she was writing to a set of known persons. But Kathy Acker had something no longer possible: a chamber audience. ![]() People are inclined to adopt these forms. With the proliferation of indie presses, “now is as good a time as any in writing,” Kraus tells me. You could even argue that I Love Dick, which often slips into art criticism and political commentary, also opened the way for “autotheory” - e.g., the bio-based lyric essays of Maggie Nelson. Kraus was also among the first to consciously codify this non-genre when she detonated I Love Dick (Semiotext(e), 1997), her novel that plays with the “I” in supremely unsettling bursts. Today, its giddy, free-range, punk-rock, first-person spews and cut-ups (spatula’d together equally from porno and the literary canon) liberate quasi-multitudes. When it ignited in the late 1970s, Acker’s work had no specific classification. “I always hated the term,” Kraus tells me. ![]() The co-publisher and editor (with Hedi El Kholti and the late Sylvère Lotringer) of Semiotext(e) has brought decades of character-narrative to light, including the early work of autofiction pioneer Kathy Acker. More specifically, defined as a form of literature in which a first-person narrator may or may not represent the author, autofiction excludes next to nothing but genre fiction - e.g., crime stories, fantasy. ![]()
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