Hello dear Off Topic readers,
Studiously ignoring that this is called Off Topic because it’s meant to be about all sorts, when I saw my father recently, he looked slightly pained as he mentioned the lack of book chat in my previous newsletter. So, to delight him and any other book hounds who were left wanting, I'm pleased to have two exceptionally solid recommendations to make this week (I’ve been itching to tell him about these but have withheld them for him to read about here, because that’s the price we must both pay for him not being content with news of salt and pepper grinders).
The first is Maps of Our Spectacular Bodies by Maddie Mortimer, which I listened to while doing some sewing over the four-day weekend. But before I go on, I feel I should say that I’ve found it difficult to imagine someone with cancer wanting to read this book, and so you may or may not wish to skip over this part of the newsletter if that applies to you - just scroll down to the next 💛 to leap ahead if you’d prefer.
If you’re still reading, Maps of Our Spectacular Bodies is a novel about a young mother, Lia, as her body is overtaken by cancer. I found this quite a visceral experience and listening to the final hours of the book felt almost unbearable, as though the emotions around every death I’ve experienced were being funnelled through its pages. I think it works in this way partly because it’s a story delivered without sentimentality. Lia’s twelve-year-old daughter’s acerbic comments that puncture the cocoon of their relationship without warning, the sudden realisation she won’t finish her work, the unexpected tenderness that comes out of an assault on a train on the way home from treatment, all feel so real that it erodes the mental boundary of this is just a novel. But what makes it so unusual, is that it’s a story partly told by cancer itself (and it’s this that makes me think people undergoing treatment may not want to read it). Initially, there’s an element of separation and the cancer talks about Lia as a third party, albeit gaining strength as Lia recalls events from earlier in her life. That our traumas can manifest as illness isn’t a new idea, but in the context of this novel it becomes a deeply discomforting proposition. Cancer’s voice is witty, malevolent and chilling, but becomes even more unsettling when it starts referring to itself and Lia as one person - we, our, us - before reverting to an impatient mixture of she and us when it finally believes itself to be the dominant force. It is just so skilfully done, so unique. Towards the end, I actually found it too difficult to sit and sew through, and instead beetled around the house tidying and cleaning with an unbearably tight chest just wanting the end to come because it was too painful to stay in that place of long goodbyes indefinitely (we know Lia will die from the book’s synopsis, so that’s not a spoiler. Although that feels like an awful word to use in this context).
Assuming the voice of cancer in the life of this lovely and funny woman seems an act of daring, but also cruelty. I thought a lot about why I was listening and hoped I wouldn’t wish to unread it at any point - in our culture, the idea that we must remain mentally strong and positive in the face of cancer is so ubiquitous, it seems almost dangerous to willingly expose oneself to the ideas in this book. Like walking under ladders or breaking a mirror (I’m not actually superstitious, but I think the underlying feeling is probably the same). I wonder why we treat cancer in this way, but not diabetes or heart disease though. Anyway, if you’re in a place where the idea of reading this doesn’t seem overwhelming, it somehow feels very much worth it, even though I can’t quite explain why. And the relationship between the three central characters is gorgeous. And the audiobook was exceptional btw, especially when it comes to narrating the voice of cancer, but I think a hard copy and rereading may beckon as there were so many sentences I wanted to underline - the writing is wonderful.
I’ve finally learnt how to use the Clips function on Audible, but it’s still no substitute for reading a sentence several times over on a page. Just in case you’re thinking, Clips function?, I’m quite excited to share this with you, as I’ve been using Audible since 2015, and have only just taken the time to work out how to use it. Basically, if you hear something you want to return to, just tap the +clip button at the bottom right of the app (you can see it in the photo above) and it will store a recording of the previous 30 seconds. Although if you then click on Preview, you can extend or reduce this time, as well as giving the clip a title. You can also add a note to yourself too. It’s all very helpful, but I wish it automatically offered up a transcribed version of the clip too - that’s what I’d really love (and I’m pretty sure it’s not beyond the bounds of what’s possible, as you can already sync between Audible and Kindle if you buy both versions).
💛 The other book I wanted to share with you is The Colony by Audrey Magee1. This is such a close and atmospheric novel (the overriding feeling is one of dampness - I really just wanted to haul everyone and everything off the island and get it all properly dried out). The Colony is set on a near-abandoned island off Ireland, where most of the villagers have already left and, after a fishing accident, only the female generations of a single family, and their lone son, remain. The family’s only relationship with the outside world is through extended relatives who deliver supplies, radio bulletins detailing the victims of IRA attacks, and the two visitors who come to stay over one summer. A linguist studying the gradual decimation of the islanders’ native language; and an artist. Both men form uneasy relationships with the women and young boy, and both take from them in ways that feel difficult, although I can’t say much more without giving things away, but the characters and plot are excellent.
The writing itself is quite experimental, but not in a way that feels self-indulgent or like a widdly guitar solo. To give you an idea, when it comes to the artist, his actions are described in the third person; his thoughts delivered in short one or two-word lines a little like poetry; while what he sees is expressed as the title of a potential painting - self-portrait: conversation with the boatman; self-portrait: nausea; island series: James with two rabbits. It’s as though Audrey Magee is cupping her hands around part of a scene and saying to the reader, Picture this. Now this. And this. And it actually works. In context, fully-fleshed images immediately appeared in my head with little description needed. So clever. I don’t know if this exists as an audio book, but I’m imagining you may lose some of these things if it does, so I’m pleased to have read the actual book. Also unusual, Audrey seamlessly switches between first and third person in the middle of paragraphs - almost as though the intensity of what’s happening is suddenly so great that the character must take over - I really liked that.
Both of these were five star reads for me. I’ve also been dipping into two short story collections, which I’ll share with you next week (or perhaps not. Maybe my next newsletter will be about serving spoons or car engines…in reality, I do actually want to tell you about an amazing under-eye concealer, so it really may go off my dad’s preferred topic…2).
Finally, something for anyone who has read the utterly wonderful One For the Blackbird, One For the Crow by Olivia Hawker (which I shared in a newsletter about books set around prairies and farms, if you want to know more). One of the scenes that’s really stayed with me from that book is the birth of a two-headed lamb, and when I came across this poem by Laura Gilpin yesterday, it added an extra layer to that3. The final line captures the spirit of that magical animal’s brief time in the world so perfectly.4
I’d love to hear if you have any recommendations for books, podcasts, television, pestle and mortar… ;)
With love, and thanks for reading,
Florence x
The blanket that appears in the photo above was one my husband gave to me several years ago and it’s actually made from recycled denim jeans - I still find this hard to believe as it is so un-denim-y. It’s soft, heavy, and drapey and is the favourite blanket of both of us (and as we don’t like to share blankets, you can see the problem with that). Anyway, if you’re in need of warmth and loveliness, I highly recommend one. It’s from By Mölle, although I think he will have bought it from somewhere in the UK as he’s not known for importing homewares.
Also because my daughter and sister are both being so high-maintenance in the viewings department, I may never have time to read another book again. My daughter is away for a few more weeks before the lease on her house runs out and she returns for the summer, so I’ve agreed to watch Love Island each evening ALONE so that I am fully up to date for tandem viewing once she gets home (I know, there are all kinds of wrong with reality television, but there are all kinds of right about sitting and chatting with my daughter every evening and that trumps being a conscientious objector on this one. Last night there was something on the show I didn’t understand and when I messaged her, she said, Don’t worry, no one on Twitter got it either. I asked if most of the people on Twitter were over 40 and she said Probably 😂. And I realised the show probably does have a bizarrely large 40+ audience for exactly this reason, of people just adoring their young people and so subjecting themselves to this); My sister has also insisted that I stop watching Sally Rooney’s Conversations with Friends immediately and join her in Dolly Alderton’s Everything I Know About Love, so I am currently attempting to catch her up at the third episode - it is just incredibly good fun (especially the dance routines), but also quite painful witnessing how needy Maggie feels as a young person - you just sort of want to hug her and tell her it’s all going to be okay. I don’t think this series is for everyone, so in the if-you-liked-that, you’ll-like-this department: This Way Up; Ab Fab; and my sister says Fleabag, although I never got very far with that.
Some would say a Brucie bonus. Although not me (even though the words did pop into my head unbidden). Essential nb. I refer only to Bruce Forsyth and the original catchphrase here (which was vaguely upsetting in its own right, but when I went to get a link to this, I was surprised to find it has since taken on other meanings. It’s quite scary how quickly language evolves - you think you’re saying one thing and then find it’s meaning something else entirely. This is actually so in keeping with the linguist stuff in The Colony, who would be appalled and all for shutting down the Urban Dictionary. And possibly speaking in general if this kind of thing is going to happen).
When I looked to see if I could link to Laura Gilpin’s poem on the Poetry Foundation website it wasn’t there…but this was, which seems to lead straight back to Spectacular Bodies. Gulp. Can I please just have one day where I don’t cry (although to be fair, crying over books and poems never feels like such a bad thing) 🥲.
Wishing you a glorious end to the week. x
Oh my goodness I thought I was the only parent who sacrificed their cultural integrity for their beloved daughter! Watching Love Island, unconscionable or rather incongruous?in normal circumstances, was a lifeline when she was away from home, going through a difficult time and connecting every evening to watch something together and sending updates from media gossip throughout the day, was actually a lovely experience. We were able to check in and up on her without it being yet another ‘how are you doing?’ conversation. Who knew ....?Love Island as therapy?
I have just enjoyed watching Five Bedrooms , good fun easy viewing and Normal People , a bit harrowing at times, and I liked Conversations with Friends too. I will try out Everything I know about Love. If you love Anna Kendrick’s quirky character you might like Love Life Series 1.
More furiously fabulous book recommendations Florence. Thank you as ever. I have them stacked up on audible waiting until I can finish listening to Great Circle, which I’m loving, as you promised I would. I laughed out loud at your Dads consternation re the last newsletter, though in truth I was a little disappointed too, in finding no literary recommendations (although I might have purchased a handy volcanic orange pepper grinder in my chagrin!) fondest love from Nicola picola x