“The idea came to me in the vacant space between one irrational thought and another. The place where ideas for books come from.” So muses Jim Winter, the protagonist of Writers Anonymous, the latest novel by William Wall.
Restless after the lockdowns of 2020, Jim, a well-known author, launches an anonymous online writers’ workshop. This sets the stage for a story rich in introspection, meta-literary playfulness, and creeping dread.
Five unpublished writers are selected. Cameras stay off, and real names are not allowed. But one, Deirdre, begins submitting chapters that unsettle Jim deeply. Her novel describes the unsolved 1980 murder of Mattie Lantry, a lonely teen from a small Cork town, a case Jim knows all too well.
Wall blends literary thriller and character study, crafting a novel that’s emotionally taut and structurally inventive. He peppers the book with excerpts from each student’s writing, especially Deirdre’s, whose crisp, haunting prose feels disturbingly intimate. Gradually, the lines blur between fiction and confession, self and other. How can Deirdre know what she knows?
The mystery alone could drive a lesser novel, but Writers Anonymous reaches further. Wall uses the workshop set-up to gently satirise literary culture, particularly the proliferation of Zoom-era courses where adverbs are heresy and anonymity is chic. The result is a smart reflection on writing and its place in our disrupted lives.
[ Frightfully unfashionable: the century-long decline of adverbsOpens in new window ]
Written from Jim’s first-person perspective, the novel offers a refreshingly intimate portrayal of the writer’s mind, its rhythms, self-doubt and the quiet toll of creativity. These insights never overshadow the plot but enrich it, offering a nuanced glimpse at the cost and compulsion of storytelling.
Wall’s writing is rarely showy, rather it possesses a clarity that intensifies as the novel progresses. He captures the social and political undercurrents, and the conspiracy-flecked paranoia that swelled during lockdown. With its literary allusions and world-weary wisdom, Writers Anonymous is also an edifying read, full of reflective pleasures.
It’s often said that good poems are about poetry; the same might be true for novels. Without navel-gazing, Wall folds a quiet meditation on the form itself into the narrative. He also captures the multiplicity of our inner lives with a poet’s touch. Winter reflects: “Read my books and know that I am someone different. I am that darkness that lies beyond the dark of my books.” It’s a haunting line, hinting at the gaps between the self we present and the selves we conceal, or perhaps, the selves we become when we write. In this way, Writers Anonymous becomes not just a mystery or a literary satire, but a profound reflection on identity, authorship and the shifting truths we tell ourselves and others.
