‘Content Machines’ Asks The Right Questions About Publishing In The Platform Era

Every season, there’s a particular sort of novel that elicits its own genre of disdain. It’s somehow “too personal” and also lacking in “depth.” It’s called things like indulgent, trashy, lazy, artless, frivolous, embarrassing, or perhaps just very online. This is the mauvais genre of our times, the gimmick of the not-quite-memoir, autofiction. Over the summer, as Rachel Cusk’s Life of M: A Novel