A touch of old‑school literary intrigue is exactly what late summer orders up, especially when paired with a cooling breeze of ennui. This week, fans of that setup found themselves oddly satisfied to hear that Rachel Cusk’s latest work, Life of M, appears to draw on the real life of actress Natalie Portman. And if contemporary readers’ close readings hold true, Portman’s onscreen persona—famous for something like a Black Swan—might not be thrilled by its portrait.
To begin at the outset, with the gossip. Cusk and Portman have maintained a cordial rapport for several years and are said to be admirers of one another. Portman chose Cusk’s Parade for her book club back in 2024, and there has been at least one amicable public exchange between the actress and the novelist.
Life of M continues Cusk’s fixation on the fragility of the self, yet the novel leans on particularly concrete clues and details.
As Valerie Strivers noted in an extended piece for UnHerd, the book centers on a celebrated actress, M, and a nameless writer‑friend’s project to document her life. And the character of M mirrors enough about Portman to provoke comment among readers.
How did researchers draw the lines between fiction and fact? Cusk’s fictional heroine is, in addition to being a film star, “the model for a major brand.” She lives in a European city that remains unnamed. Her career began in childhood—specifically in a Lolita‑tinged European film that, in the narrator’s view, “brought her childhood to an end.”
Portman is described as a renowned actress and Dior model based in Paris. The book’s opening project is the one she actually started with.
There are other, less flattering breadcrumbs. M—who also played a ballerina in one of her better‑known films—seems to struggle to relate to ordinary people beyond the orbit of fame. In the novel she appears tense, short‑sighted, isolated. Not exactly reassuring in a moment of crisis.
That dynamic could illuminate why, according to Strivers, the actress’s dissatisfaction and sense of betrayal with the final product—as depicted in the last pages of Life of M—may also resonate with real events.
Portman’s representatives have limited themselves to silence about the rumors so far. Yet Strivers writes that background sources have tried to downplay any supposed link between Cusk and Portman, ranging from friendship to professional ties.
It’s worth noting that this isn’t the first time Natalie Portman has found herself at the receiving end of a para-social inquiry from a novelist. What exactly is going on here?
As Hunter Harris suggested in a recent Hung Up episode, might Portman have a Bad Art Friend (or two) lurking in the margins?
Regarding Cusk, the author has offered no direct remarks either. But it may help to look at past patterns for hints.
Cusk’s later fiction is famously cool, almost clinical in its treatment of human frailty. In recent years, her keen eye has grown less receptive to certain kinds of invention. As she told The New Yorker in 2018, “I don’t think character exists anymore.” And yet the characters still populate her pages.
It’s also true that Cusk has faced accusations of not fully disguising real people in her fiction, perhaps in the service of a more brutally honest mode.
As The Times reported, the initial edition of her 2009 novel The Last Supper: A Summer in Italy was “pulped” because “Cusk did not sufficiently disguise the people she wrote about and was threatened with a lawsuit for breach of privacy.”
And in 2017, memoirist Damian Barr complained that he was the unhappy model for a character in Transit.
Yes, everyone makes missteps. I remain grateful for the creators who gave us this work and the sharpness with which Life of M can be read. For anyone who worries about becoming a subject, perhaps the wiser course is not to place your life squarely in a novelist’s hands.
After all, whose self will it reveal in the end?
