Editor’s Note: This article references self-harm and sexual assault. For support, contact the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 or visit 988lifeline.org. For the National Sexual Assault Hotline, call 1-800-656-HOPE (4673) or visit online.rainn.org.
Anika Jade Levy’s upcoming work, Flat Earth (2025), follows Avery, a grad student in media studies, who envies her friend Frances. Frances, an heiress turned artworld sensation, gains fame through an art film on flat-earth theorists. Avery is depicted through peculiar traits, such as keeping a fishtail braid in Tupperware and seeking relationships with violent partners, yet these details fail to reveal a deeper character.
The narrative’s flat tone mirrors Avery’s numbed existence, marked by clipped sentences and emotionless observations. The style is Levy’s strength, yet each passage fades into insignificance, much like a fleeting flash of light. Avery’s encounters, including a reference to her high school assailant’s achievements, serve to underline her emotional void, embodying a modern sense of detachment.
Plot points in Flat Earth are loaded with cultural references, from Adderall shortages to QAnon, presenting a blend of nihilistic commentary. The narrative lacks lasting impact, preferring intellectual display over emotional depth. It critiques its own disaffection while embodying it, using self-awareness as a shield against critique.
While Flat Earth remains mired in its subject’s superficiality, other works manage to explore contemporary apathy more meaningfully. Books like Vincenzo Latronico’s Perfection offer a critique with ethical depth, and Nella Larsen’s Quicksand presents a more nuanced character study. Avery, however, is emblematic of a genre dominated by disaffected artworld figures, reflecting a narrow view of the art community.
