As the biography continues, Altschul interweaves Calliope's own narrative into the story, and her prowess as a poet takes center stage. As she tries to make sense of what her father left behind, she also creates a world of her own making, a poetic landscape that seeks to find meaning in a meaningless word. Eventually, even poetry will become an abstraction, and she will be left feeling disillusioned of the inadequacy of the written word. Just like the craziest members of the Terrible Children fan base, she comes to believe her father is in hiding and that her memory of his death is flawed.

With this, Altschul reveals the absurdity of the postmodern art world. He lampoons the rock biographer for seeking the truth of the artists life when he can't even see the truth of his own, and then he goes after the establishment: the media for ruining Calliope's artistic vision, the literary critics for not seeing past their own ideologies, and the poet herself for her attempts to deconstruct and abstract her own poetry. In the end, Altschul has created a wonderful work of postmodern satire. As it wraps you in further and further, he reveals that the rock biography was never meant to be taken seriously in the first place.

Lady Lazarus is also a book full of obscure references to 20th-century art, and everyone from the poet Sylvia Plath (recognize the title?) to TV talk show host Charlie Rose get wrapped up in the narrative. In fact, there are so many references to real life stuff that Altschul included an "Attributions" at the end of the novel to help you make sense of it all. While it is difficult to remember where every reference comes from, it's all completely recognizable, creating an even more believable fake biography.

Lady Lazarus is a novel that forces the reader to question the notion of art and the importance of the artist. Altschul has to mythologize Calliope as the transcendent artist who becomes the art, just like her father Brandt once did. In the end, is it the artist or her art that is more important? Does it even matter? Altschul's mature debut novel doesn't provide answers to these questions, but it does create an excellent satire of the ambiguity so often found in postmodern art.