In 2026 I read Helen of Nowhere by Makenna Goodman.
A very deft and subtle piece of fiction. I had to sit with it for a day and a half before I could articulate what it had done to me.
Goodman lures you in, bit by bit with early sections that might give you the impression that you are reading an oblique take on a Philip Roth-style campus novel. Part way through the second “act,” though, things start to feel off in ways that are hard to describe.
By the time you realize what’s happened it’s too late, you’re already caught in her trap. What you thought was the story of one professor’s brush with cancellation is actually the story of a lost soul shedding the insecurity of its ego and coming to terms with its true, animating desire.
As I read the final pages, I said, “Oh my god” out loud to any empty room and then reread the whole chapter to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood how she had turned the tables on me.