In the world of literary fiction, a truly original voice is a rare discovery. Grace Murray, a 22-year-old author, announces herself with just such a voice in her superb debut novel, Blank Canvas. Published by Fig Tree at £14.99, this energisingly original work delves into the psychology of deception and emotional detachment with remarkable assurance.
The Lie at the Heart of the Story
The narrative centres on Charlotte, an emotionally detached English student at a small liberal arts college in upstate New York. As her final year begins, she tells a monumental lie: she claims her father has just died of a heart attack. In reality, he is alive and well in Lichfield, England. This fabrication, which brings her no material gain, becomes the catalyst for the entire story, prompting an exploration of the liar's inner needs rather than just the consequences of the untruth.
Murray uses this premise to unpack Charlotte's psychology with wit and precision. The lie also sparks her relationship with fellow student Katarina, a quasi-love story that forms the book's compelling main narrative. Their connection is doomed from the start, undermined by Charlotte's deception and her conscious effort to become, in her own words, "an emotionless eunuch".
A Voice of Alienation and Depth
Creating a narrator as cold and dissociated as Charlotte is a significant challenge, risking a vacuum at the heart of the novel. Murray, however, navigates this with acute psychological insight. Charlotte's own reflection on her personality is telling: "My personality could be characterised by a distinct lack – of almost everything. Lying was one of the only things I did for myself... But it was just another absence, this inability to be honest."
While her detached voice might feel overdone initially, its cumulative effect is powerful. As the novel progresses, a subtle shift occurs. Influenced by Katarina's buoyant sweetness, Charlotte begins to open up to the world around her. By the end, her narration transforms from deliberately alienating to deeply moving, achieving this shift with scarcely a false note.
Satire and Social Commentary on Campus
The campus setting provides a rich source of both comedy and sharp social commentary. Murray excels at art school satire, exemplified in scenes like one with Charlotte's academic adviser. The adviser offers the hollow encouragement, "We don’t like failing people here," to which Charlotte laconically replies, "I know." She then mentally catalogues previous final projects: "de-shelled M&Ms; a bathroom selfie series; a felt-tip drawing of Jeff Buckley." The comedy is perfectly judged, never overplaying its hand.
Yet this is ultimately a sad novel. Murray resists a neat, sentimental resolution, displaying keen narrative instincts. One reservation noted in the review concerns a significant revelation in the final quarter that offers a partial explanation for Charlotte's lie. Some may feel the novel would be stronger without this late-stage reveal, as it feels slightly underexplored.
It is hard to mention Murray's age without sounding patronising, but it is a fact worth noting: she has crafted this perceptive, accomplished novel largely before turning 22, and indeed before she was old enough to buy a beer in the country where her story is set. This is, however, a superb debut for a writer of any age, marked by an energising precision in prose and a compelling exploration of truth, lies, and the spaces in between.
