'Sabine returned carrying a bag containing an effortless pair of Christian Wijnants fringed trousers and Ann Demeulemeeter Crinkle Nero boots. The sales assistant had agreed that the combination made Sabine looks exactly like an artist. 'A conceptual artist?' Sabine asked, and the sales assistant said, 'Or an actual artist.'
'Sabine is having a moment. Her new exhibition, Fuck You, Help Me, is opening soon and, as her gallerist says, 'hell is an artist three days before their exhibition opens'. But it's not only this coming milestone that is causing Sabine to melt down.
'She is being stalked. As exhibition day draws closer, so too does the man who has been watching her. As his approaches become more overt and threatening, Sabine's fear amplifies and transforms into something feral and primal. And then things start to get really strange.
'Darkly funny, intense and unsettling, Woo Woo is an astonishing and unflinching dissection of creativity and obsession, love and passion and vengeance and rage. Nothing will prepare you for this literary firestorm from the author of the internationally acclaimed debut New Animal.' (Publication summary)
'The greatest dilemma for the novelist writing about art is one of seriousness. How seriously are we to take a fictional artist? How can we assess the value of a body of work that is entirely imagined? The character’s self-belief notwithstanding, what are we to make of claims of the work’s brilliance? Are their efforts worthwhile, their ideas executed well? The author’s task is not to tip the scales, to allow for the possibility of that ineffable thing, great art – if that’s not too woo-woo a concept.' (Introduction)
'Baxter’s follow-up to New Animal is part Melbourne scene sketch, part stalker thriller – and a wholly unique manifesto for seizing creative power from fear'
'The fear drained from my body and into my manuscript. It was too nuts to ever publish – but I did anyway, in a blaze of fury'
'Baxter’s follow-up to New Animal is part Melbourne scene sketch, part stalker thriller – and a wholly unique manifesto for seizing creative power from fear'
'The greatest dilemma for the novelist writing about art is one of seriousness. How seriously are we to take a fictional artist? How can we assess the value of a body of work that is entirely imagined? The character’s self-belief notwithstanding, what are we to make of claims of the work’s brilliance? Are their efforts worthwhile, their ideas executed well? The author’s task is not to tip the scales, to allow for the possibility of that ineffable thing, great art – if that’s not too woo-woo a concept.' (Introduction)
'The fear drained from my body and into my manuscript. It was too nuts to ever publish – but I did anyway, in a blaze of fury'
