The other day I saw Stalin's Cows by Sofi Oksanen described as a novel about bulimia. I'm reading the book at the moment, and I can't say it's a wrong description. But it reduces what the author just extended.
That's why I've always been uncomfortable when asked what my books are about. If I act like a normal person and answer the question, I betray my novel.
Next time I'm asked, I will act like a normal and call attention to Magritte that painted a pipe and told us that this is not at pipe. In many senses that's what literature is all about.
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