The first part is a short story about two friends who discuss the recent end of their relationships in an apartment that might have had a murder take place next door. The story discusses the philosophy of love and faith.

The second half of the book is nonfiction writing that is similarly philosophical in its analysis of Lacey’s breakup with her partner of six years. Lacey reflects on the relationship and its connection to her religious experiences, as well as other events in her life. I really enjoyed Lacey’s reflections and seeing the connections between her nonfiction and the auto-fiction from the beginning of book. I found Lacey’s reflections on her work as a fiction writer the most interesting. Particularly when she discusses her relationship with sex and sex scenes in writing, and the merits of including sex in fiction.

I think this book would be great for anyone who is or has had to process the ending of long relationship, or is evaluating the role that religion has played in their life and their understanding of love. Readers of Lacey’s other works will especially enjoy this book.

As a full disclosure and reflection, I don’t believe I’m the target audience for this novel. However, I do believe there is an audience for this novel that will appreciate the unique style and creativity of this intensely literary, genre-bending story.

For context, the story is divided into two parts: Part A, a fictional tale of two friends rehashing their failed relationships. Part B is a bleaker, auto-fictional narrative of Lacey’s own separation.

Objectively, I appreciated Lacey’s writing and the creativity of the “Mobius Strip” concept woven into the story. The prose in Part A was sharp and atmospheric with cutting dialogue that was easy to engage with. I found Part B a bit less engaging and harder to follow with a less linear narrative. The story in its entirety explores many heavy topics, including faith and spirituality, relationship collapse, an eating disorder, and anger/abuse. Throughout the narrative, each part vaguely alludes to elements of the other, illustrating interconnectedness, and the lack of beginning/end (ie, the Mobius strip).

For me, the concepts were a bit too cerebral and I found myself frequently distracted while reading; however, I believe this was more due to my personal interests rather than the strength of the narrative itself.

Overall, I would recommend the Mobius strip for its atmospheric prose and creativity. If you enjoy unique literature and don’t mind a bleak story without a resolution, your personal preferences may align better than my own.

What do the last 5 years feel like? Well according to Catherine Lacey it feels like being closed into a ratty apartment, seeing your friend realise you have completely come undone. Was there blood seeping under the door of the next apartment over? That can't have been blood, right? Right?

I loved this. Smart, thoughtful, revealing an underlying confidence and clarity of purpose I was moved and thrilled by. It took me places I really didn't expect to go. A special entry in the category of recent literary breakup memoirs.

A book with two parts, with the first section being almost a play between two female friends discussing their failed relationships and the second section an autobiography of the author's separation from her partner
Will there be no end to your assumptions of what I want? I asked him, then I answered my own question: There will be no end to your assumptions about what I want.
We, both of us, we had hallucinated the other.

In The Möbius Book we initially find ourselves in a seedy apartment in New York, where Marie and Edie, two good friends, meet each other after painful break-ups. Edie is recovering from an uneven relationship with a month in Greece and sex with unnamed men met in parks, and Marie is mourning a marriage with her wife which broke down, preventing her to see her two children, meet around Christmas. And then there is not present K. a decades old friend of Marie who told about her relationship with Helena to her wife, coincidentally also their sister. Also there is a substance which seems to be blood trickling out from under the door of their neighbour. I found this part A of the book very well done and atmospheric, with dialogues that I could easily see acted out on stage.

Part B is very much autofiction and relates how Catherine Lacey comes to term with "The Reason" breaking up with her per email (I am speaking in this letter about the dissolution of our relationship as partners ) and making her sleep in the guest room of their shared house.
The Reason is Jesse Ball, with sentences of his Autoportrait being literally quoted. The author also reflects on violent father, now incapacitated by a stroke, and how this has guided her choices in relationships and love. There are obviously a lot of echoes in Part A that derive from the events from Part B, including a lot of spiritual questions which in Part A centred around a dying dog in Athens and in the second part of the book more overtly to the Christian upbringing of the author, including how this induced her to not eating. There is a lot of crying in this section of the book, in public places (Manhattan is and has always been the best place I’ve known to cry in plain sight, so I did a good deal of that, too), in parks, during diners and during calls.
Leaving an earlier husband called Peter is barely reflected upon, there is a section about a friend called Sean losing his eye sight is so touching and tender, I would have liked more of that, but overall section B is about the gaslighting by Ball as perceived by Lacey during their relationship, exemplified in sentences like: If I had really been paying attention to him, he explained, if I had really loved him, then I would have known how dire the situation was. How had I not read his mind?

This feels very raw, and obviously this is autofiction plus I don't know any of the people in the book, but the resulting picture is far from pretty, including breaking of a hand when smashing into the wall (I had checked my phone during a film he had wanted me to watch - that was why he’d punched the wall), remarks on gaining 3 pounds and mansplaining taken to the max (It wasn’t that he didn’t love me, he explained. It was that it had become clear to him that I didn’t love him anymore. This isn’t what I want so much as it is what you want, he told me, and when I said it wasn’t what I wanted he simply said yes, it was)..

Somatic therapy and energy healers, an exorcism of a demon from a right leg and a spiritual surgery, extracting a diseased soul, aided by Jesus and Lao-tzu and some bondage plus the best sex of her life with men she doesn't know seemingly offer a runway to healing. The last pages of the book have a relationship blossoming with a Spanish speaking Daniel whom per Wikipedia she married in 2024.

While the echoes of part A and part B are interesting, I felt slightly uncomfortable with what part B makes us as readers experience in almost a voyeuristic manner. As said, it feels very raw and personal, almost like a literary exorcism of sorts. Lacey her writing is impeccable, quotes below, but I think I would have enjoyed the book more if Part B was either less rooted in real life or had showed detachment and an analytical eye similar to what Annie Ernaux applies to events in her life.

Quotes:
Book A
She sometimes had the feeling she was something he had saved and therefore owned.

Marie knows that harming someone is the fastest way to become permanent in them.

You’ve always loved difficult things, Marie says, deep breath now, talking about Edie, but just as well talking about herself.

In love you place your life in another’s hands, and you dare them to ruin it.

She gave herself up without tension into friendship, respected her friends enough to allow them to change her.

A relationship is an act of faith - it’s a kind of magic or experiment, isn’t it?

Humans have needs and when their needs are met, sometimes they call it love.

There is no story that does not lead to another story

Book B
The more I tries to explain what had occurred, the more it felt like nothing had occurred.

Without God, what was a body? Just a place to wait.

You can’t argue with it, can’t argue with your life.

Cities permit a certain amount of suffering in plain view as part of the etiquette of proximity, the privacies we afford each other in order to bear the burden of human density.

We know more about how to attempt to survive an aerial disaster than we know about meeting the end of love, the former being highly unlikely while the latter is close to certain.

How could you be Christian and not think of death all the time?

Part of what terrified me about the idea of loving another person again was how easy it has been for me to misdiagnose abject mistreatment as simply misexpressed love.

Really compelling examination of fictionality and wavering faith in romantic and religious relationships. Loved the half-fiction half-essay/memoir form, which acknowledges the one-sidedness of personal stories. If you like books that are conversational and frank about an author's real-life experiences and concerns, and have at least half an appetite for experimental forms—I promise, it's more surprising than confusing—this will do it for you! I see it in conversation with Sarah Manguso's LIARS (I think it transposes a scene from that book into this one, actually) and Nicolette Polek's BITTER WATER OPERA.

An extraordinary examination of how facts from a writer's life enter their fiction, but not without being displaced and transformed. But it is also a careful study of the break-up of a relationship and the break-down of the narratives (the fictions) we tell ourselves. Responding to and attempting to go beyond the vogueish autofictional novels of the 2020s, Lacey continues, in a new mode, her rigorous and playful investigation into the nature and possibility of narrative itself that she undertook to such acclaim in Biography of X.

Though I have long wanted to read Pew, and Biography of X is patiently waiting on my Kindle, this is actually my first Catherine Lacey book. I think (and I really hope) that this is a different direction for her.

The Möbius Book is marketed as a blend of memoir and fiction, this is lost on me as I know nothing of Lacey's life and even the biographical part reads like fiction. The first section appears to be a fictionalised version of real events, while the second part seems to be a loose memoir giving a little more context to the story. Not having realised it was a book of two parts, I was surprised to find the acknowledgements about halfway through, will the physical book start from the back and the front perhaps? That would definitely fit the Möbius idea.

The positive for me was that this is a short book, which I managed to read quickly. Aside from that, it just wasn't for me. Read it if you enjoy the more experimental side of literature.

Finally, the cover is terrible. It looks amateur and I would not pick it up in a bookshop or library.

Not for me, but thanks anyway, NetGalley!

The first 40% of this book is a high brow experimental fiction/mystery where there is an infidelity, and a bloody door, and it is unclear whether the memoir has begun. Overall, it was confusing, well written but in true Lacey fashion verbose (mommy negative).

Afterwards, there is acknowledgments, and a clear transition into the true memoir which is a statement about her abusive relationship with a fellow author who broke up with her via email (huh!?) and how she literally had to do an exorcism to get rid of his spirit. I just overall found myself a little bit confused at times and found that this would’ve been less confusing with a little bit of formatting and chapter layout.

This was a bleak but interesting look at relationships, how they end, and fidelity. I didn't know that the story would change halfway through and I found that shift very refreshing. The surreal beginning with an unreliable narrator balanced nicely against (what seemed like) a more straightforwardly autobiographical ending. Was intrigued by the spiritual experiences that the narrator/author underwent when healing from grief. I'm going to remember this one for a while!

The Möbius Book unpacks the loss of faith – in relationships and in the divine – through a narrative that is part fiction, part memoir, each suffused with the essence of each other so that they are self-sufficient wholes as well as parts building on parts. Depending on the side you begin reading from, the centre of the work makes itself known differently [I also liked that this meant the credits to all those who laboured to make the book happen exist at its core.] The interior lives of women – Lacey, her characters, and Lacey as a character in her own narrative – are the engine here, and it is very clear that our understanding is parti pris to their experiences: with all-knowing, all-talking dead dogs, with male anger and abuse, with demons exorcised from the leg, with heartbreak, betrayal, disorientation, and the physical manifestations of a spiritual or emotional loss – or awakening.

There is also the element of literary gossip: this is, amongst other things, also a sort of tell-all hit-piece about Lacey's ex, a famous writer whose work The New Yorker described as "at some oscillating coordinate between Kafka and Calvino", identified here simply as The Reason. The narrative has only one side – the other inaccessible to us – in a particularly well-wrought emulation of a möbius strip.

As with the shape it is moulded to, this book invokes endless questions, but perhaps its greatest preoccupation is exploring whether the void left by romantic love and religious belief can be filled by what we find in work, in art, and in friendships. Or, according to Lacey's website:
Belief in abstractions is both the peril of the delusional and a necessity in love; how do rational people accept this paradox?

Whether or not readers find it engaging depends on how they connect to and interpret these questions, and how – if – they reinterpret them with Lacey as aide. While I delighted in the experiment and adored Lacey's prose style, I didn't come away from the narrative with quite the effect either Biography of X or Pew still have on me. On some level, this is a work that perhaps serves the author more than it does the reader: as a confessional, a conceptual stepaway, a cerebral exercise. For fans of Lacey, it will still be worth the while.

I really liked how the fiction section of the Möbius seemed more nuanced and constructed than the non-fiction section. Both sections had a certain truth to them, but the second section flowed along like life without much structure. This book mainly reminded me of Lacey's first book, Nobody is Ever Missing, which seems like her most autobiographical novel. I hope she finds peace with her new husband and that the process of learning Spanish is an interesting one.

The Möbius Book is an experiment in story, something Catherine Lacey seems to master with each book she writes. I went into it without doing any research or reading any synopsis or review of the book; after reading Biography of X, I knew I wouldn't need context in the end anyway.

This book is written in two parts: Book One, which is a piece of fiction about a character who is reconnecting with a formerly estranged friend while being estranged from their mutual friend. The story takes place over the course of one night, with lots of interior processing and deep conversation. Book Two is a piece of nonfiction by Lacey about her process in writing the book itself. It's a special kind of meta, one that makes you realize how thoughtful and intentional the art of writing can be.

I must say, I didn't understand why it was called The Möbius Book at first, but once I understood what a Möbius loop is, the answer unfolded like an epiphany. She's written a Möbius loop of narrative.

Yay for Catherine Lacey, I continue to treasure all the smart things she says about life. In the first part it was so true about friendships where you know each other well enough that you kind of distain each other for certain aspects of your personalities.

Do I wish it had all been a novel instead of whatever this attempt at breaking the form was? Yes. Yes I do. And am I simultaneously glad it was not just a novel? Perhaps. But I also think, if you're going to break the novel form, really break it! I'd hoped for something weirder from this book.

The religious parts were hard for me to relate to not having been raised with religion, but I imagine would be interesting/useful to those who had.

Maybe: this feels made in order for her to then be interviewed about it on podcasts?

essentially a very high-concept work of spilling the tea but of course it's very well written from an awesome writer so eh! 5 stars. tysm for the arc.

Reviewing this book is quite complex, as it straddles the line between fiction and nonfiction. At times, I found the story to be somewhat confusing. While it’s not poorly written, I struggled to connect with the execution of the plot and the underlying ideas presented in this memoir. This disconnection proved to be a challenge for me, especially considering that connecting with a memoir is often essential for an engaging reading experience. Although the portrayal of the private life of females is beautifully crafted, I realized this book might not be the right fit for me at this time.

4.5!

What a beautiful twist of a novel. It almost feels impossible to give a rating to because of how vulnerable Lacey gets in the second half. The memoir (autofiction?) section is well written and impressive, weaving from topic to topic with ease. I'm not sure what to do with the first half of the novel, though a reread might add some clarity. For now, it feels out of place in a way that's almost jarring, but perhaps that's the point (still beautifully written, though!). Eagerly looking forward to what everyone else thinks when it comes out next year.

Thank you to NetGalley and Farrar, Straus and Giroux for the arc!

OMG, Catherine Lacey wrote a whole ass high concept memoir about how her ex Jesse Ball is a gaslighting, over-confident toxic boi who broke up with her via e-mail from the next room and made her require an actual exorcism in which a demon was extracted from her leg (yes: WTF). I am shooketh - put the kettle on, the literary tea is piping hot, and I'm unsure who looks the worst in this oeuvre (it's probably Jesse Ball though). Is this a hit piece that rather melodramatically vents grievances to a degree that puts the author at least partially in the wrong? Yes. Will the whole thing become a bona fide shit show for Ball once it's officially published and the internet will be eating this up? Oooooh yes. Does this text display interesting literary ideas in a daring form? Also yes, because Catherine Lacey is an amazing artist.

The first around 40 percent of this experimental memoir is a fictional story about two female friends, one of them divorcing her wife after having an affair - the whole drama is presented via conversations and in the style of a chamber play that illuminates how the situation extends to a web of friendships that goes back to college. While the two women at the center drink and mourn, they tell themselves that the blood seeping out under the door of the apartment next to them is probably something else... So all in all typical Lacey stuff, psychological writing that showcases human consciousness via specific ideas and atmospheres, a text that feels like a lucid dream, all that rightfully made the author famous - but I was frankly puzzled because.. isn't this supposed to be a memoir? Psych! "There's nothing wrong with inventing a story to explain something real to yourself", one character declares. The story ends, a new one begins as Book B.

And very close to the beginning of this non-fictional part, Lacey, the narrator, gives us the explanation: "(n)early every time I've written a novel something happens in between its completion and its publication that makes it clear to me that I knew something I didn't know I knew while I was writing, and that buried knowledge, that unknown known, had been expressed in the fiction, just beyond my awareness." There's the author's explanation for the intricate connection between crafting fiction and processing one's life, and in this publication, we get both the fiction and the non-fiction part: The Möbius Book, doh! There will be plenty of papers trying to extract how Book A and Book B are interwoven, but this review won't be one of them.

Because I know you want to get back to the tea, so here we go. Two things first: I am a huge fan of Jesse Ball's (and Lacey's!) writing, but clearly, I don't know them as people. Then, yes, Ball's name is never mentioned in the book, but there are so many clues that it's impossible to miss: The time frames, him (at the time) being a writer and professor in Chicago with a cult following, his deceased brother Abram (for whom Ball wrote Census), even a whole passage from Autoportrait is quoted in here etc pp. Now Lacey/ the narrator of the memoir (let's not get into the autofiction debate) tells us that she divorced her husband for him, and six years later, he left her for another woman, telling Lacey that she doesn't love him anymore, as has been his habit: Telling Lacey who she (supposedly) is.

And then there's a whole catalogue of shit he is accused of: Gaslighting, manipulation, verbal abuse, body shaming, a violent temper, anger-induced self-harm, an ex accusing him of hitting her (which btw amounts to spreading rumours), the list goes on. Throughout, Lacey is referring to Ball as "The Reason", which is played in different contexts, but also directly points to the main shortcoming of this book (which is itself filled with rage and grief): Jesse Ball clearly isn't The Reason for everything, reasoning himself out every situation while being the root of all misery. Where is Lacey's agency? She's a whip smart feminist, what happened here? That would have been a question worthy of exploring in a lot more detail, but we mainly get her crying in various places and under various circumstances. Also, hasn't she been terrible to her ex-husband when she dumped him for Ball? Where is the major difference to what Ball did to her in the end? Listen, I'm not judging or making excuses for Ball (a man I, as mentioned above, don't know at all), I'm just longing for more complexity on the content level, a complexity that is certainly there on the aesthetic level.

An then there's the religious component, or rather, the aspect of faith: Lacey talks about her religious upbringing in Mississippi, and how love also requires faith in the unknowable, and that's all good and well (I'm a Catholic, I get it), but when she went on to Mexican healers and exorcisms, she lost me. Not sure the way to get over a toxic ex is excessive public crying and magic, sorry. What I do understand is that Lacey is seeking an emotional end to the turmoil: "It was hard (...) to find satisfying conclusions to stories that weren't exactly stories but rather a set of prompts that resisted completion, a Möbius strip of narrative". That's life folks, and sometimes, it sucks.

So while I enjoyed reading the book, I also partly felt like I was nosing through the high concept version of literary gossip - a feeling I didn't have at all when reading, let's say, In the Dream House, which feels a lot less like revenge, and more like soul searching and an attempt to process what happened and why. This book will certainly cause quite some controversy.

I am a fan of Catherine Lacey's work and also really enjoyed this book. It is a genre-defying text, with many swerves and surprises. It could be interesting to teach in a class on hybrid texts or creative non-fiction.

this book defies expectations.

huge blessings to everyone who will read it and think about all that ever was or will be in the never ending cycle of life.

tysm netgalley what a treat.