"The Test" by Katie Kitamura | Beware, fake!

Two strangers meet, sit together in a restaurant, chatting, a little tensely. They observe each other, the first glass of alcohol consumed a bit too soon. Who are these two, the older woman, the young man? What is their relationship to each other? Could it be that these two, who are complete strangers to each other, are mother and son?

American author Katie Kitamura creates an unusual constellation in her new novel, "The Rehearsal," which is nominated for this year's Book Prize. We see the world through the eyes of a shrewd narrator, capable of precise observation. She masterfully describes her surroundings. Few questions remain unanswered. At first. She is an established actress who regularly performs on stage and whose film role has brought her some success.

She's in the prime of her life. She lives in New York City with her husband, Tomas, a writer. Two people who have achieved what others only dream of: a life free for their art, despite all economic necessities. Their childlessness seems to be a price they were willing to pay.

And suddenly, the narrator's sense of security is violently shattered. There sits Xavier, handsome, 25 years old, a drama student, claiming to be her son. In the first part of Kitamura's light-footed, elegantly written novel, we witness the upheavals this suspicion triggers in the narrator. She is not only an excellent observer of her surroundings but also of herself. She could be perfectly certain, knowing better than anyone that she has never given birth. And yet, the encounter with Xavier does not remain without consequences.

In the second part, a different, unexpected scenario unfolds. Xavier moves into the apartment of Tomas and the narrator. Soon, his girlfriend also makes herself at home there. A life structured by routines and shared togetherness is abruptly disrupted. New relationships compete with the established partnership. Surprising hierarchies emerge.

The rehearsal, as the title suggests, doesn't only take place in the lead-up to a theatrical production. If it's true that we are all performers in our assigned roles, then we too would have to rehearse and rehearse our lives. How fixed are identities, really? Does parenthood truly arise solely through birth? Do we really only get one shot at life?

It seems logical that Kitamura would explore these questions through the lives of three individuals who are also active as inventors and creators. Writing and acting become ciphers for coping with life. Why should what has proven successful in books and on stage remain confined to those mediums? In the end, the reader isn't certain what is invention and what is invention within invention. A second-order fiction. Is this a minor stroke of genius? More likely, it's just another old literary trope.

The novel has a slightly nerdy feel. The incredibly clever narrator confronts us with the fact that we can hardly escape our own skin and yet are constantly changing. Identity is the currently fashionable term for this. It's what describes us, but only in our enigmatic ambiguity. In her attempt to package these questions in fiction, Kitamura doesn't always manage to avoid all the clichés.

The world of literature thrives on repetition and variation. In this case, one can't help but feel that one has already read all of this in a more elaborate form in Max Frisch's work. Katie Kitamura's "The Rehearsal" is like "My Name Is Gantenbein" for those in a hurry—a bit abridged, albeit entertaining and engagingly written.

Katie Kitamura: The Rehearsal. Translated from the American English by Henning Ahrens. Hanser, 176 pp., hardcover, €23.