05 Jun Book Review of Blank
Blank: A Misguided Statement on Literature
When I first stumbled upon Zibby Owens’ Blank, I was intrigued by the concept of a book that questions the very fabric of the publishing industry. A blank book as a statement piece—could it be a bold critique of commercialization in literature, or merely an evasion of responsibility? As someone who firmly believes in the transformative power of storytelling, I was eager (almost hopeful) to dive into what promised to be a raw, self-reflective exploration. Unfortunately, I was met with a narrative that left me feeling more frustrated than enlightened.
Owens introduces us to Pippa, a writer on the brink of failing her publishing contract. Faced with the threat of repaying her advance, she concocts a plan to submit a blank book, framed as a commentary on the overwhelming choices in modern publishing. Though the premise initially read as a fascinating critique, Pippa quickly morphs into a mouthpiece for Owens, casting a judgmental eye on readers as mere ’TikTok addicts’ and ‘mindless consumer drones.’
There’s a sardonic wit in Owens’ writing that attempts—yet falls short—of self-awareness. She critiques how readers have become inundated with options while simultaneously infantilizing them. This paradox is made evident in quotes like, “I feel like most people fake it,” which reflects a bitterness that undercuts any genuine aspiration to uplift those who love literature. Instead of fostering a sense of community or curiosity, Pippa’s narrative feels more like a slap on the wrist.
The writing style itself veers toward an awkward balance between sardonic humor and heavy-handed political statement, with pacing that at times meanders into self-indulgence. The response to Pippa’s ‘artistic’ choice feels unrealistically inflated—her blank tome garners a tidal wave of praise, resulting in accolades like a National Book Award and a Pulitzer for her friend, as if the literary world could be transformed overnight by mere provocation. This leads me to wonder: If this book is a statement piece, it lacks the intentionality that defines true art.
Memorable quotes throughout the narrative highlight Owens’ interesting observations about the industry. Pippa laments, “Fantastic books go unrecognized, while others randomly sell millions.” While this holds an undeniable truth, it only serves to deepen my disdain for Pippa’s self-serving path rather than sparking genuine discourse on the matter.
Ultimately, Blank spends more time reveling in self-adulation than fostering critical self-reflection. It left me pondering who the intended audience might be. If you’re a reader who praises every morsel of literature regardless of intent, perhaps you’ll find something here. But for those of us who truly seek nuance and depth in storytelling, this book may come off as a hollow critique wrapped in a veneer of artistry.
If you are looking for books that truly uplift indie voices while weaving rich narratives, I encourage you to explore Sarah K.L. Wilson’s enchanting Bluebeard’s Secret Series, or J.L. Bryan’s spine-chilling Ellie Jordan, Ghost Trapper series. For something lighter, Elizabeth O’Roark’s contemporary romances, or Debra Dunbar’s whip-smart Imp Series, are must-reads.
In reflecting on Blank, I find myself hoping that future readers seek out books that genuinely engage their intellect and heart. Perhaps that’s the most significant takeaway from my experience—a reminder of the potential beauty within true, heartfelt storytelling.
Discover more about Blank on GoodReads >>
