In the Cut

Living alone in New York, Frannie teaches creative writing to a motley bunch of students, and secretly compiles a dictionary of street slang: virginia, n., vagina; snapper, n., vagina; brasole, n., vagina.

One evening at a bar, she stumbles upon a man, his face in shadow, a tattoon on his wrist, a woman kneeling between his legs. A week later a detective shows up at her door. The woman's body has been discovered in the park across the street.

Soon Frannie is propelled into a sexual liaison that tests the limits of her safety and desires, as she begins a terrifying descent into the dark places that reside deep within her.

“This book will keep you up all night and give you chills. Both relentlessly menacing and transgressively brilliant, In the Cut is a twisty, nerve-shredding reading experience. A rare breed of literary thriller that manages to be deeply disturbing, violently erotic, and truly unforgettable.”

I am in awe of In the Cut, a book about violence and sexuality that pays meticulous attention to language in a sharp, sardonic voice that calls to mind Lorrie Moore and Lydia Davis. It is extraordinarily unrestricted about female desire and sexuality, a completely propulsive reading experience and simply one of my favourite books.

Brutal, witty and electrifying, this is one of the best and bleakest thrillers I've ever read. As stylish as Chandler, as savage as Dworkin, its uncompromising portrait of the erotic dynamic between men and women makes it essential reading in the dark waters of the 21st century.

Through the eyes of her narrator-voyeur, Susanna Moore leads us down to the basements and subways of her noirish New York. Here, the distinctions between pleasure and violence begin to blur; in this world, as in ours, the fact alone of femaleness is enough to elicit danger. Claustrophobic, disorienting, nauseating - In The Cut takes you to the place where desire transforms into fear, and it holds you there.

Frannie's adventures in sex, language and power are as dangerous as the city she is consumed by. Deep red and hot as hell, In the Cut is one of the most x-rated, unforgettable examinations of straight, white female fragility, its depravities and desires, but above all, its breathtaking certainty of its own innocence, that I have ever read.

This book will keep you up all night and give you chills. Both relentlessly menacing and transgressively brilliant, In the Cut is a twisty, nerve-shredding reading experience. A rare breed of literary thriller that manages to be deeply disturbing, violently erotic, and truly unforgettable.

I've never read anything like IN THE CUT. The lethal precision, repulsive and propulsive, cerebral and visceral, makes it the kind of intelligent thriller that takes you over completely. Seductively at first, then in a chokehold. When I finished I was ready to pass out.

Strange, uncomfortable, compelling, shocking, hot, scary. The scariness of the book arises from what feels like being trapped in the protagonist's head - the way she treats the people around her like specimens, as though she's conducting a forensic autopsy on the world.

In The Cut is surely one of the most underrated books of all time. Moore navigates the claustrophobic streets of a seedy New York and the dark, hidden avenues of female desire with equal grace, rewriting the thriller template with an elegance that proves totally devastating. She looks unflinchingly towards the darkness and finds beauty there as well as old, inescapable truths about what it means to be a reckless woman in a world of dangerous men.

Susanna Moore is the author of the novels The Life of Objects, The Big Girls, One Last Look, In the Cut, Sleeping Beauties, The Whiteness of Bones, and My Old Sweetheart, and two books of nonfiction, Light Years: A Girlhood in Hawai'i and I Myself Have Seen It: The Myth of Hawai'i. She lives in New York City.

Living alone in New York, Frannie teaches creative writing to a motley bunch of students, and secretly compiles a dictionary of street slang: virginia, n., vagina; snapper, n., vagina; brasole, n., vagina. One evening at a bar, she stumbles upon a man, his face in shadow, a tattoon on his wrist, a woman kneeling between his legs. A week later a detective shows up at her door. The woman's body has been discovered in the park across the street. Soon Frannie is propelled into a sexual liaison that tests the limits of her safety and desires, as she begins a terrifying descent into the dark places that reside deep within her.

This item is eligible for free returns within 30 days of delivery. See our returns policy for further details.