Anna Dorn has carved a niche for her writing: hypermodern, unlikeable Queer women. Her latest novel, “American Spirits,” takes this up again, but on a much grander scale — pop girl uber stardom.
Set over many years, but mainly taking place during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, “American Spirits” splits its multi-perspective narration between Blue Velour, major pop star and Grammy winner, and Rose Lutz, a crazed superfan who has found herself hired as Blue’s assistant after Blue takes a chance on her.
These women pull from the caricatures of a few current pop girls: the nightlife of Charli xcx, the early-career genre fuckery of Billie Eilish and the “attitude” of Chappell Roan. But Dorn mainly re-imagines Lana Del Rey, who she credits as the main inspiration for Blue, especially with the controversies that mirror Rey’s stints of flirting with conservatism.
Take all of this, and copy the r/GaylorSwift subreddit over top of it. The r/BlueBeards subreddit — originally created by Rose — is an exact replica of r/GaylorSwift, caught in their complete conviction that Blue and her producer Sasha are romantically involved (they are, and Rose herself will find herself entangled as well, a real love triangle).
Choosing to play with this many elements of these intense fandoms is an insane undertaking. Not many would take the chance to reimagine Lana Del Rey as Queer, let alone also poke at the Gaylor fandom. Dorn takes this big swing and somewhat nails it, even if “American Spirits” ends up more entertaining in theory than in practice.
The book starts out strong, with Rose beginning her first encounters with Blue, the woman she’s been fixated on for years. The reader develops the same curiosities as Rose: How serious is Blue and Sasha’s relationship? Will they find out how deep Rose’s obsession runs after hiring her? What is the day-to-day life of this pop star?
Because of the nature of an assistant job, Rose gets answers to these questions pretty quickly, and that’s where the book goes stagnant. Blue, and the life of the pop star, loses its original mystique, and the engine of the story is no longer as compelling.
But those earlier chapters also drop some easter eggs for the fans of the real life pop stars Dorn drew inspiration from: Blue’s own “kissgate,” the mention of Zoë Kravitz or Blue’s own addiction to Americana (and vaping). But again, as the book goes on, this search is less fun. We’ve discovered that Blue is a remake of Del Rey, and further references lose their novelty.
The book also starts to read (intentionally) like a teenager’s fantasy of Queer stardom, what a 15-year-old would have written in a pandemic fever dream, but a fraudulent version of it. There’s a lot of teenage posturing indicating a lack of real experience on the current internet, claiming that teenagers actually find Instagram obsolete (couldn’t be less true) or that they wouldn’t know what a record player is (Gen Z is really into physical records, actually). The lingo used in the fan’s Reddit posts is always a little off from reality, feeling like a plastic version of its inspiration.
The point with these misunderstandings is probably to illustrate how out of touch Blue is with both reality and her younger fanbase. But that’s a boring chord to strike, especially when Dorn already has the much more interesting Queer love triangle plot to play with, something that would make writing about celebrities more than just the classic out-of-touch trope.
“American Spirits” also struggles to take a clear stance on its own conversations, putting you in a weird place. The book in large part warns of the dangers of stan culture, showing the dark side of these intense spaces. But with all of the real celebrity names being dropped alongside Blue’s name, you can’t help but play along. Rose flirts with Miley Cyrus; Billie Eilish admits to taking a lot of inspiration from Blue’s style; rumors circulate of Taylor Swift producing an indie folk album; Sasha produces for Lorde and St. Vincent.
All of these name drops put you in a guessing game. Would Miley Cyrus really flirt with someone’s young assistant? Do all producers’ best work come from hooking up with their artists, like Sasha insists? You’re forced to play along, and it’s fun, but undermines its own philosophy.
By the end, the campy charm of “American Spirits” has worn off, and you’re slogging into the dramatic and meta ending. You’re left with an interesting-ish story, but one that didn’t take a clear enough stance throughout to really leave you with more than some overdone philosophies to think about.
Daily Arts Writer Campbell Johns can be reached at caajohns@umich.edu.
