‘The Three Lives of Cate Kay’ are all a waste

The first thing you need to know: Cate Kay isn’t really Cate Kay. 

That is, she is the bestselling author of the dystopian book-turned-film trilogy that has raked in millions, inspiring merch lines, theme parks and the adoration of hundreds of thousands of fans, none of whom could pick her face from a crowd. But her name isn’t Cate Kay — it’s Cass Ford. But no, wait, that isn’t right either. Before she was Cass, she was Annie Callahan, and Annie has something to tell us. She wanted to be a movie star, once; she wanted to be known. And now, as “The Three Lives of Cate Kay” (her fictional autobiography) begins, it is the time for just that: In a world where everyone knows the name that isn’t really hers, we’re finally being introduced to Annie, as she really is and, more importantly, as she was.

Annie’s tale starts in 1991, nestled in the small town of Bolton Landing in upstate New York. Raised by a single, neglectful mother, it isn’t until Annie meets Amanda — soon to become her best, and only, friend — at a theater camp in fourth grade that she feels like her life truly begins. With Amanda by her side, Annie’s life suddenly has a trajectory. Together, they plan to move to Hollywood upon graduation and pursue acting, dreams of fame and fortune propelling them toward that hazy, uncertain future. From their very first chance encounter, the girls are inseparable, each the most important person in the other’s life. But when tragedy strikes the day before they’re set to drive out to L.A. together, their plans shift. Annie disappears, and no one is sure why. Even more curious, though, is the fact that, almost 15 years later, nobody knows where she went. 

The problem with Kate (yes, Kate) Fagan’s debut novel isn’t in its concept, but its execution. It’s a story that should be entertaining: An anonymous celebrity writer, whose fictional popularity rivals that of J.K. Rowling or Stephen King, wants to tell us everything. And she means everything — no holds barred, no sneaky cards left hiding in the lining of her breast pocket. There’s something electrifying about being told someone’s secrets, even if they’re all fictional. 

These secrets, though? None of them are as shocking as the facts you’re offered freely (so freely, in fact, that most of them can be found on the back cover). This book asks you to believe a lot. And I mean a lot. Our protagonist is not only one of the most prolific and venerated writers of her time, but a woman who has had to disappear, hide her identity and change her name — not once, but twice — all to conceal the dark and twisted secret that made her run away in the first place. The entire book, framed as a tell-all that keeps reminding us it’s gearing up to something big, feels like the anticlimactic reveal at the end of a long “trust me” story. It asks us to be an attentive audience, and we are. We wait with bated breath, trusting that all the hype we’ve been fed will be worth it, only to finally realize we’ve been promised a payoff that will never come. 

The biggest issue with “The Three Lives of Cate Kay” is that it promises too much. And then, when it comes time to deliver, it doesn’t know how to follow through. The “accident” that spooks Annie so much she runs away from home and assumes her first alias is quickly revealed to be just that — an accident. There’s no question of her guilt at any moment in the course of events leading up to or preceding it, something that makes it all the more confusing why she assumes she has to disappear in the first place. The only time the book comes close to answering this question is immediately after Annie leaves town, when she reflects on the two paths her life seems to have suddenly branched off into — a life where she stays, stuck in the town she’s spent her life dreaming of walking away from, or a life where she finally leaves. The story frames her choosing the latter path as an opportunity for Annie to finally learn who she is when she isn’t attached to Amanda — something she’s secretly always wanted to find out and never thought she’d have the chance to. For someone who has always shared half a dream with someone else, this sudden offer to see what having one all to herself might look like is something she just can’t pass up.

And yet this, too, interesting as it may be, is dropped — almost as if the story, though it ruminates plenty, forgets about it. This is part of a larger trend, the novel ebbing and flowing and losing pieces of itself along the way. It’s not that there are no good ideas, or even moments, to be found in these pages. Rather it’s that, every time we get one, we’re let down by it. The most interesting part of the book — Annie’s conflict between loyalty to her best friend and her own ambition — completely falls off after the first act, turning instead into a pervasive (yet underdeveloped) sense of guilt that chokes the rest of the story’s potential. Although her running away is initially pitched as a chance to discover who she is on her own, she spends the rest of the novel following other relationships around the country, trying to replace one codependency with another. By the end of the novel, Annie’s life has changed, but she hasn’t.

This book clearly wasn’t for me, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t for everyone. Chosen as both a Book of the Month and Reese’s Book Club pick for January, “The Three Lives of Cate Kay” has seemingly reached its audience, even if I don’t quite understand why. Maybe you’ll see something I didn’t, should you choose to pick it up. Though, if anything about this book seems even remotely up-your-alley, I might suggest picking up “The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo,” its obvious inspiration, instead. But for now, all I’m left with is the lingering feeling that, of her three lives, Cate Kay wasted absolutely every single one.

Managing Arts Editor Camille Nagy can be reached at camnagy@umich.edu. 

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