Stranger Things debut novel of actress Millie Bobby Brown, Nineteen steps, revolves around real events. In 1943, the Bethnal Green Underground disaster killed 173 Londoners due to a faulty staircase at the station, which was being used as an air raid shelter. One Brown’s grandmother survived this tragedy, Britain’s worst civilian loss of life in World War II. Brown describes her novel as “a really special project” inspired by her family’s history in World War II.
But she didn’t write Nineteen steps. It was done by a ghost writer named Kathleen McGurl. McGurl described the process on his blog:
I was sent a lot of research that Millie and her family had already prepared, as well as a lot of ideas, and we did a couple of Zoom calls. And then I got to work and wrote the first draft, and Millie kept sending new ideas via WhatsApp. Since then, the book has gone through several revisions as we refined the story.
The book received intense criticism, partly because of Brown’s outsourcing, but also because of its quality. The first paragraph of the novel, which has been widely (and mockingly) shared on social media, ends with the line:
It was hot—the kind of heat that makes you want the weather to cool down and the leaves to fall, but then you kick yourself for wishing for good weather.
Social media users criticized the dubious origin and quality Nineteen steps by posting screenshots from classic novels, cheekily attributing the first lines to Brown.
Credit, where credit is due?
Ghostwritten novels have long been the subject of debate over issues of authorship and authenticity in publication. This is a phenomenon we seem to tolerate in some genres, usually when the ghostly presence of the real author is not a secret (even subtly acknowledged) or when the authorship takes a backseat to the story. It is more common in the mass market than literary fiction.
For example, someone who ate Hardy Boys novel or installation Babysitters Club owes hours of enjoyment to the unseen authors behind the famous names Franklin W. Dixon and Ann M. Martin. These serialized books for young readers revolve around familiar characters and the soothing rhythm of formulaic storylines.
Blockbuster author James Patterson co-authors his novels, coming up with the outline and working with co-authors to develop, write, and edit them. We also know that ghostwriters regularly collaborate with celebrities to publish memoirs and autobiographies. Sheryl Sandberg Lean in (2013) was co-written by television and magazine writer Nell Scovell, best known for creating the hit series. Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Controversial issue about Prince Harry Spare was written by famous ghost writer J.R. Mehringer.
What makes celebrity novels like Brown’s novel different?
One obvious answer is that this type of ghostwriting seems inherently darker and more insincere.
When working with a public figure or celebrity to tell their life story, the writer’s goal is to help them understand their circumstances, memories, and views, and then turn them into an easy-to-read book. Their goal is not necessarily to present the famous “author” or co-author as a competent, creative writer.
The novel, on the other hand, presupposes a clear relationship between author and text, which the ghostwriter more clearly undermines. The purpose of writing a novel is usually to write a novel.
If Hemingway was right and all there is to do is “sit at the typewriter and bleed,” we have good reason to worry about who gets the credit for turning a fictional story into reality. When someone puts their name to a novel, they are making a statement of skill, imagination, and perseverance, which the world’s most successful writers admit is difficult.
But our discomfort lies deeper than the concealment of identity and therefore labor. Our concern has more to do with how the popular celebrity novel reconfigures the book as product.
Australian Noongar writer Claire J. Coleman recently wrote on X about Brown’s Nineteen Steps: “This book will outsell the real authors’ books because it has her name on it.”
Ghost in the Machine
Pointing the finger at capitalism seems too easy. But a ready-made audience is attractive to publishers who do business in a notoriously competitive industry. Ghostwritten novels about celebrities aren’t always critical successes, but they are often commercial successes—at least for a while.
You may remember that British YouTuber Zoe Sugg (better known as Zoella) broke records back in 2014 with her debut novel Girl Online, sold nearly 80,000 copies in its first week on shelves. Soon after, the book made headlines again when it was revealed that it had been written by a prolific children’s author. The effects were immediate and intense. But Sugg published several more novels, this time with her co-authors’ names on the covers. She also sells home products, apps, and even a monthly “sexual health subscription” on her website.
Celebrity authors—some using (and some trusting) ghostwriters, others writing their own books—have long been a trend in children’s publishing, from Madonna and model Cara Delvigne to Matthew McConaughey. Critics say the prevalence of ghostwriting in children’s books undermines quality and means there is less money available to sign other authors.
And let’s not forget that Millie Bobby Brown starred in one of Netflix’s most popular projects to date. She has around 64 million followers on Instagram. That’s a lot of raving fans who might spend $32.99 on a paperback, the same amount they would spend on any other celebrity product.
We can expect more from fiction. But celebrity novels remind us that books always occupy a difficult position, both as works of art and as commodities. This is why many of us who care about reading and writing will find ourselves unable to agree with ghostwriting firms who insist that books are “just products.”
Writing, as I often remind my students, is first and foremost process. This is a means, not an end.
As celebrity authors remain an integral part of modern publishing, and artificial intelligence platforms like ChatGPT further complicate the nature of creative practice, the war of words is all around Nineteen steps it’s another opportunity to think about why we read books—and what we want from them.
Amber Gwynne is a lecturer in writing at the University of Queensland, Australia.
This article first appeared on Talk.