Geoff Dyer is often described as an “uncategorizable” writer (I am among the offenders) because of his hostility to a well-policed border between fiction and nonfiction. His travel essays have the feel of short stories, and his “proper” novels feature extended riffs that are criticism in disguise. (As he put it in the introduction to Yoga for People Who Can’t Be Bothered to Do It, “Everything in this book really happened, but some of the things that happened only happened in my head.”)
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