The term 'autofiction' was coined by French writer Serge Doubrovsky in 1977, but the practice has never been more prevalent—or more contentious—than it is today.

Autofiction occupies a deliberately unstable space between autobiography and fiction. The author appears as a character, often under their own name, but the events described may be imagined, embellished, or rearranged for dramatic effect.

Proponents argue that autofiction gets closer to emotional truth than either memoir or pure fiction. 'Memory is already a form of fiction,' says writer Rachel Cusk, whose Outline trilogy exemplifies the form. 'Autofiction simply acknowledges that fact.'

Critics, however, worry about the ethical implications. When real people appear in slightly fictionalized versions, who controls their stories? And what happens when readers can't distinguish between what's true and what's invented?

Despite—or perhaps because of—these tensions, autofiction continues to dominate literary prizes and bestseller lists. It seems we're drawn to the authenticity these works promise, even as we question whether such authenticity is possible.