Acts of Service

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I had hundreds of nudes stored in my phone, but I d never sent them to anyone. The shots themselves were fairly standard: my faceless body floating in bedrooms and bathrooms, in mirrors. Whenever I took one I fell in love with it for a moment. Standing there, naked and hunched over my little screen, I felt overwhelmed with the urge to show someone this new iteration of my body. But each photo seemed more private and impossible than the last.

You could see in them something beyond desire, harder and more humiliating. While I was brushing my teeth or stepping out of the shower I would see my own body and find myself overwhelmed with a sense of urgency and disuse. My body was crying out that I was not fulfilling my purpose. I was meant to have sex ­probably with some wild number of people. Maybe it was more savage than that, that I was meant not to f*** but to get f***ed. The purpose of my life at large remained mysterious, but I had come around to the idea that my purpose as a body was simple.

I was too fearful of the world to go out and get f***ed, too plagued by hang-­ups, memories of shitty girlfriends, fears of violence. Instead I took photos. In the photos my body looked stunning, unblemished, often arched as though trying to escape the top of the frame. I was like a spinster full of anxieties and repressions, charged with chaperoning a young girl who could not fathom the injustice of the arrangement.

One night when I was feeling exceptionally beautiful and isolated I decided to start sharing the nudes online. I used a website that anonymized usernames and disguised IP addresses, and I put up three photos with no accompanying text.

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I was on my girlfriend s toilet, the next morning, when Olivia messaged me. My post had accumulated more responses than I could possibly read. Perhaps it shouldn t have come as a surprise that none of the lewdness, the appreciation, not even the occasional brutality of these comments satisfied me. The

Lillian Fishman

Fishman s seductive debut novel centers questions of sexuality and sex, sexual freedom and power. Autostraddle

A radical understanding of the multi-hyphenate definitions of sexual orientation . . . Using sex as a road map, Eve is searching to understand her own inner workings as a young woman. We tend to love what disturbs us, if we are willing to follow our desires and take the risk. Interview

A fun debut novel that feels like the life story of half of Brooklyn. Nylon

Reminiscent of Sally Rooney s work . . . An evocative exploration of desire and sexuality, this dark debut will cause readers to question the very nature of consent. Kirkus Reviews

Fishman s alluring debut poses questions about sex, sexuality, and power via the story of a young woman s exploration of desire. Smooth and smart. Publishers Weekly

Acts of Service doesn t kiss you first, it gets right to it depicting the liquid frequencies of need and power with a thoughtful, savage eye. Raven Leilani, author of Luster

Fascinating . . a book of exquisite moral refinement and almost intimidating elegance. Edmund White, author of A Boy s Own Story and States of Desire

Acts of Service doesn t shy away from asking big questions about the nature of attraction. All this, but with a great deal of page-turning pleasure. Gary Shteyngart, author of Our Country Friends and Super Sad Love Love Story

A kind of supercharged combo of Sally Rooney and Ottessa Moshfegh, and as smart as Joan Didion, Fishman isn t just a brilliant writer she s a brilliant feeler, a great thinker. She has the gift we open books for. David Lipsky, author of The Art Fair

Months after turning the final page, I'm still thinking about this fiercely wily novel. Heidi Julavits, author of The Folded Clock

Stunning. . . I didn t want it to end. Saskia Vogel, author of Permission

I cannot recall the last time I