Imagine a young woman. Her father, leader of a '90s post-punk rock band, revolutionary and massively popular, shot himself, one of that decade's more famous suicides. Her mother, the rock star's widow, leader of her own band, possessed of a famously fierce temper, is accused of exploiting her late husband's reputation.

Lady Lazarus (Harcourt), by American writer Andrew Foster Altschul, is a fictional biography. But a certain Seattle band is only the starting point of this smart, funny, breath-taking novel about celebrity, literature, and the elusive truth.

Calliope Bird Morath is a hugely successful poet with frenzied readings and an over-the-top persona. She attacks Charlie Rose on air, tears up her father's picture on Saturday Night Live, and then vanishes, giving up her life to find her father.

Altschul borrows his title from a poem by Sylvia Plath, and Plath's tragic story haunts this book, as does that of that other famous American poet who committed suicide, Anne Sexton. The author also refers copiously to Arthur Rimbaud (a child prodigy who didn't kill himself - but who did stop writing young.) You can also finds numerous allusions from the rock 'n' roll canon, from "suicide right on the stage" to "goo goo g'joob."

The book even satirizes post-modern literary criticism, and it's a tribute to Altschul's skill that he can make Jacques Lacan and Judith Butler a laugh riot.

The novel's chapters alternate between the fictional biographer's hapless attempts to get to the essence of his subject and Calliope's story in her own words. Things become increasingly surreal, with cameos by Tyra Banks and Ben Affleck, and appearances by a demonic shaman and a vegan, cheesesteak-loving roshi.

Lady Lazarus is fun, sure, but Altschul is serious as a heart attack. This is a terrific book, big in scope, ambition and accomplishment.

. . .

Troubled (Coach House Books), by Toronto's RM Vaughan, is a memoir, in verse, of a therapeutic relationship gone very bad. The protagonist seeks counselling from a psychiatrist, but the doctor is manipulative and controlling, and the two begin a sexual relationship.

Vaughan is brutally honest with himself ("Kitten stupid, I take the bait.") and scathing in describing his former doctor. Vaughan even includes redacted reproductions of his correspondence with the College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario.

Featuring Vaughan's usual irreverence and eye for detail, Troubled is a powerful critique of asymmetrical relationships and a supposedly caring profession. It's sure to be one of the most important books of poetry of the year.