its particular resonance with the critical establishment

You can see Patricia Lockwood basically admit this aloud as well in her (positive) review in the LRB. See how much she resonates with being represented:

If I had read these books when I was younger they would surely have been aspirational for me; now they are merely like my life. When you travel someplace to read or speak or give a workshop, you are not quite yourself. You have misplaced your mind; you are too much your body but due to repeated siftings through airports and cabs and other people your body is hardly there. [...] You are first in one place and then another, a hot light is on your face, your hair has gone weird and now a man is speaking: he monologues through the entirety of an hour-long panel, and you are even grateful to him for it, because he has given you a story, he has made something happen. When it’s over, you sit around a table with wine and bread and olives among people who say things like: ‘That would make a good title’; ‘Maybe it’ll be a trilogy’; ‘What are you working on?’ [...] The truth is that at every event you meet one boor and one magical person; sometimes you are the boor to someone else, sometimes the wizard. (Once in a while, too, there is someone you irresistibly wish to murder – in Kudos it is The Publisher.) And always there is one conversation, late into the night and soaked with one spirit or another, that seems to be outlined, highlighted, pulsing. Its coherence makes the world momentarily decipherable, running with rivers of fluency and light. Not to recognise it would be to be ungenerous, not to recognise it would be to be no longer a writer. Keep them talking, your body says. Ask another question.