IT LOOKS LIKE we’re coming to the end of “alt-lit.” The party’s over. People have had enough affectless prose, enough internet-mediated self-discovery, enough lowercase autofiction to last a lifetime. They’re tired of the style, but more importantly they’re tired of the sceney debutantes who write in it. Honor Levy got it bad (or good, if all press really is good press) in May when her short story collection My First Book dropped. Critics were mostly kind (see my eloquent and even-handed review in The Guardian), but the X (formerly Twitter) masses seemed ready to preside over her figurative execution. The objections to Levy’s internet-speak writing were crowded out by objections to her slightly obsequious profiles in The Cut and Interview. There were a number of Substack “articles” by prominent tweeters detailing how angry both her book and her “It girl” status made them. People are just sick of it.
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