Literature is hands down the sharpest tool in the shed for conveying the feeling of being lost in one’s own skin, one’s own life. Nervous breakdown, midlife crisis, amnesia: literature allows us to regard characters in the midst of these conditions from the inside and the outside. What was once familiar is now inaccessible, bizarre, even terrifying. Lydia Millet has prowled these corridors in all eight of her remarkable books, seven novels and a short story collection. Not only does she describe disorientation fully, she locates it squarely in modern American life as captured by David Byrne’s lyric: ‘This is not my beautiful house. This is not my beautiful wife.’

Susan Salter Reynolds in her review of Lydia Millet’s Ghost Lights