Imagine, dear reader, that you encountered an obviously abandoned composition notebook in a cafe or library, and picked it up to find an invitation to tell your darkest secrets and fears. What would you say? That’s the premise of The Authenticity Project, in which an aging artist’s idea to confess his loneliness starts a chain reaction and creates a tight community from a group of relative strangers: the book passes from hand to hand, moving as far as Thailand before returning to England’s green and pleasant hills. The result is a book that’s a wonderfully sweet story about human connection, but not one that’s saccarine: the book brings people together, but it also creates its own drama, and even without it people are good causing drama all on their own. This was my introduction to Clare Pooley, and I suspect she may be for me a Rachel Joyce-like author on whom I binge.
Although the cast of this book increases steadily as the months wear on, our principle characters are Julian and Monica, both of whom live in the same neighborhood of London. Julian is an aging artist who used to consort with all the high-fashion creators of the day, and has a house filled with outrageous outfits: Monica is an accomplished but frustrated cafe owner, a woman with a background in law and business who instead chose to create a place for people to enjoy good coffee and company in a homey cafe with its own library. Julian confesses his loneliness, and Monica her desire for a husband and family despite being raised to be an archfeminist: she cites the Pankhursts as readily as Christians do Jesus. When Julian leaves the notebook with his confessions about being a poor husband to his late wife, Monica is inspired: she approaches him and asks if he would be willing to teach art classes in her cafe on a weekly basis. This is the nucleus of a community that grows throughout the book; each character brings their own failures and dashed hopes, but they also bring with them a desire to help the other lives they encounter in the book. There are complications, however; two people begin drawing close, but then the woman recoils when she realizes the man knows ‘all about her’ through the book, and another man has deep-seated addictions that he’s not quite finished battling. They will affect both him and the people who have grown attached to him as the book wears on.
This is an incredibly sweet story about found-family and community, and the author nicely balances stress and drama as she tells it. The only fly in the soup is that it might not have happened if people hadn’t so readily provided their real names; the London neighborhood this is set in is cozy enough that people can figure out who the writer are with context. However, Pooley is still able to maintain the tension between reality and appearances even within that context — most tellingly, in one scene where a frustrated young mother spies a couple dancing in a cafe, and yearns for what they want. In reality, the situation is far more complicated, and it makes the tension even more interesting for the reader who is growing to realize that even what’s confessed in the notebook may not be the True Story. I shall definitely be reading more of Ms. Pooley!
Quotations
Julian didn’t avoid the bad memories. If anything, he encouraged them. They were his penance.
Sometimes, Riley wished he’d never found The Authenticity Project. He didn’t like knowing other people’s secrets—it felt like prying. Yet, once he’d read their stories, he hadn’t been able to forget about Julian, Monica, and Hazard. It was like being partway through a novel, becoming invested in the characters, then leaving it on a train before you reached the end.










