Key, Alys (30 July 2020). "Eliza Clark's impressive debut, Boy Parts, has shades of Fight Club and American Psycho". inews.co.uk. Have her parents read it? “They have not,” says Clark. One, because it’s so explicit and she feels grossed out by the thought of their doing so. And two, she’s worried they will think she based Irina’s parents on them. “Her mum’s this absurd harpy and her dad’s this weird, spineless, Freudian … and my parents aren’t like that! I suppose I’m going to have to let them at some point. It’s just, as far as my parents are aware, I’ve never had sex, I’ve never taken drugs, and I definitely don’t know what the member of a man looks like.” a b Ashby, Chloë (22 July 2020). "Eliza Clark: 'I'm from Newcastle and working class. To publishers, I'm diverse' "– via The Guardian.

How Boy Parts writer Eliza Clark became one of our most exciting young novelists". The Independent. 22 October 2023. The one-woman show format is apt, in a way, since the story revolves around an unreliable narrator. By standing in for all the other characters, Kelly as Irina has complete control over the narrative, and the absence of any other physical presence gives a literal expression to Irina’s self-absorption.For Greer, a key part of the novel’s appeal is the way Irina’s volatility and her photography are intertwined. “She wants her art to be evidence of her power, evidence of her threat. Her work is a way of proving to the world what she is capable of doing.” However, says Greer, Clark also shows how easily her work gets swallowed by “the machine of capitalism and the patriarchy of the art world”. Stanford, Eleanor (21 September 2023). "A 'Really Online' Writer Looks Beyond the Internet"– via NYTimes.com. The American Psycho comparison is apt in many ways, one being that Irina can get off scot-free because she’s hot. “People always conflate beauty with goodness … I can just cry a bit, talk like I’m daft, tease my hair up like a televangelist,” she scoffs. Clark is interested in the way people treat others better when they are dressed nicely or are conventionally good-looking, and how that manifests, “even casual things like getting free stuff at Pret”. So much for Penance’s narrator; but what of its reader, engrossed by his uncannily realistic account of human misery? Penance answers Boy Parts’s question – art or porn? – by suggesting that the distinction isn’t always so clear. Slyly, it wonders if readers of Granta-endorsed literary fiction are so different from mere voyeurs. And would they ever pay attention to a town such as Crow-on-Sea unless drawn by morbid curiosity? The three years Penance took to write were, she says, akin to pulling teeth, unlike the pleasure she got from Boy Parts, a mischievous satire narrated by a predatory photographer whose images of her male victims are hailed at a hip London gallery as edgy roleplay. “People who’ve read it maybe think I’ll be more of a wind-up merchant when they meet me, but I’ve got more of a primary school teacher energy than an enfant terrible vibe,” Clark says.

Part of me does think that London is this complete capitalist cesspit where all of the money goes and where dreams go to die,” she says, deadpan. “But at the same time I do really like it. I love how varied it is, in terms of the stuff you can do and the people who live here.”Consent has become part of mainstream discourse, with universities leading consent workshops and Prime Minister Boris Johnson taking part in training on sexual harassment earlier this year. So perhaps it’s unsurprising that we are seeing more and more authors exploring the “grey” areas where one or more characters are left with a sinking feeling in the bottom of their stomach that something wasn’t OK about a sexual encounter; from a non-consensual blowjob in Holly Bourne’s How Do You Like Me Now? (2019) to Sally Rooney’s Normal People (2018), where Marianne is studying abroad in Sweden and has a BDSM relationship with Lukas, who forces Marianne to pose for him naked and tied-up, the camera lingering on the bruises on her wrists. When Marianne begs him to stop, Lukas ignores her. “You asked for this,” he says. But while these novels look at females harmed by men not respecting their consent, in Boy Parts it is Irina who ignores Eddie from Tesco’s evident discomfort as she violates his boundaries in the way that others have repeatedly violated her. She had a short story She's Always Hungry published with Granta in 2023. [14] Awards and grants [ edit ]