The Tragedy of Heterosexuality by Jane Ward

The Tragedy of Heterosexuality by Jane Ward. No Advance Reader Copy included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

“If queerness is too much, then straightness is too little, the relational manifestation of lack.”

The Tragedy of Heterosexuality is a provocative title. Deliberately, so. Jane Ward’s examination of the pitfalls of straight culture is a twist on the all-too-common idea that it is a tragedy to be lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender. What if heterosexuality has more problems than we’re willing to admit? 

I read this last month as research for an essay I’m writing (the same reason I read Mating in Captivity by Esther Perel), and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. It’s political. It’s queer. It’s feminist. It challenges the notion that LGBTQ+ people would automatically choose to be straight if they could.

“I am worried about straight people. And I am not the only one. Queer people have been concerned about straight culture for decades, not only for our own sake—because we fear homophobic violence or erasure of queer subculture—but also because straight culture’s impact on straight women often elicits our confusion and distress.”

Ward argues that heterosexuality has a misogyny problem because heterosexuality and misogyny are inextricably linked. Again, another provocative claim. We’ve all seen the headlines associated with studies showing that women in relationships with women have more and better orgasms than women in relationships with men. Or the studies showing that men benefit more from marriage than women in health, wealth, and overall happiness.

In exploring why this is the case, Ward accepts that direct comparisons between lesbian and straight relationships are not always available because “heterosexuality studies” is still in its infancy, meaning there is only a small body of research. 

Ward argues that straight men could learn something about embodying their love of women from women who love women (sapphics). That is, loving women starts with liking and respecting women.

While Ward references the LGBTQ+ community throughout, she often speaks of women as being straight or lesbian with little to no mention of bisexual, pansexual, and other m-spec women. Given that we, as bi+ people, have unique experiences with both queer culture and straight culture, this felt like a missed opportunity. 

I do not doubt that others will expand on Ward’s work, so I read this as the beginning of a thought-provoking and much-needed conversation rather than the final say. I’m not sure I agree with all of Ward’s conclusions, but I learned a lot from reading this and could understand why she reached those conclusions. 

The Tragedy of Heterosexuality by Jane Ward is published by NYU Press and is available in hardback, paperback, ebook, and audiobook formats.

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Floor Sample: A Creative Memoir by Julia Cameron

Floor Sample: A Creative Memoir by Julia Cameron. No Advance Reader Copy included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

“Writing makes me a writer,” I tried out the simple truth.

Floor Sample is Julia Cameron’s memoir about addiction, mental illness, recovery, motherhood, and creativity. Cameron shares her descent into alcohol addiction, drug use, and the episodes of psychosis that led to her being hospitalised. She is also candid about her relationship breakdowns, her experience of motherhood and her changing relationship with her daughter, Domenica. 

Floor Sample grabs your attention from the first page and doesn’t let up as we see how, throughout it all, Cameron built a creative life for herself — something she teaches others to do in The Artist’s Way. Cameron is a prolific writer, teacher, poet, playwright, filmmaker, composer, and journalist. More than once, I wondered, “how does she find the time to do everything?” 

In reading the early chapters about their relationship, marriage, and divorce, I said, “how did I not know that Julia Cameron used to be married to Martin Scorsese?!” out loud multiple times. The story of their divorce is a wild ride, as is the impact their relationship had on Cameron’s career as a journalist. It’s almost twenty years since I did The Artist’s Way while taking a creative writing class in college. If their relationship was mentioned, I had forgotten about it, but it’s the kind of celebrity trivia I live for! 

Memoirs never cover everything about a person’s life, and I understand that the UK release of Floor Sample last year was a reissue of a book initially published in the early 2000s. But there is one aspect of Cameron’s story that I need to know how it ended, and googling hasn’t given me the answer. At his insistence and the urging of her publisher, Cameron consented to have her former husband, Mark Bryan, added as a co-author of The Artist’s Way so that he could go on speaking and book tours while she recovered from her breakdown. Cameron said, “I do not like this decision, but I tell myself that I am being paranoid about its possible repercussions.” Did he voluntarily remove his name afterwards, or what happened? 

Spirituality plays a huge role in Cameron’s sobriety and creativity, which means her work isn’t for everyone. I would have rolled my eyes a few years ago at this book. However, the older I get, and the longer I’m sober, the less inclined to judge individual people’s spirituality I’ve become.

I’ve dipped in and out of writing morning pages over the years but returned to it as a regular practice this year, so it was fascinating to read parts of Julia Cameron’s story alongside this rediscovery. 

Floor Sample: A Creative Memoir by Julia Cameron is published by Souvenir Press (in Europe) and TarcherPerigee, an imprint of Penguin Random House (in the US). Floor Sample is available in hardback, paperback, ebook, and audiobook formats.

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No Choice: The Fall of Roe v. Wade and the Fight to Protect the Right to Abortion by Becca Andrews

No Choice: The Fall of Roe v. Wade and the Fight to Protect the Right to Abortion by Becca Andrews. Advance Reader Copy (eARC) from the publisher via Netgalley included. No affiliate links were used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

No Choice: The Fall of Roe v. Wade and the Fight to Protect the Right to Abortion by Becca Andrews is an in-depth look at the history of abortion rights in America. Andrews uses her skill as a journalist to examine the fallout from the US Supreme Court Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization decision, which overturned Roe v. Wade and rolled back 50 years of abortion access. 

While the book’s focus is on abortion rights, Andrews is clear that these rights must be part of the broader reproductive justice framework. This is illustrated through interviews with people who have had abortions, abortion providers, and activists giving the reader a deep understanding of how reproductive justice isn't an abstract concept but profoundly impacts people's lives.

Andrews shows great care when writing about or telling people’s abortion stories, be they people she spoke to directly for the book or experiences shared elsewhere. This care is also evident when discussing Norma McCorvey, the ‘Jane Roe’ in the Roe v. Wade case, whose story is complex. McCorvey did not get the abortion she wanted. The landmark ruling came years after her daughter's birth and subsequent adoption. McCorvey later worked for anti-abortion organisations. Although, in an interview before her death, she was quoted as saying, “I took their money, and they’d put me out in front of the cameras and tell me what to say.” and “If a young woman wants to have an abortion, that’s no skin off my ass. That’s why they call it choice.”

No Choice will make you angry but also make you appreciate the continued work of activists, abortion funds, clinic escorts and clinic defenders. 


No Choice: The Fall of Roe v. Wade and the Fight to Protect the Right to Abortion by Becca Andrews is published by Weidenfeld & Nicolson, an imprint of the Orion Publishing Group. No Choice is available in hardback, ebook, and audiobook format.

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The Trauma Beat: A Case for Re-Thinking the Business of Bad News by Tamara Cherry

The Trauma Beat: A Case for Re-Thinking the Business of Bad News by Tamara Cherry. Advance Reader Copy (eARC) from the publisher via Netgalley included. No affiliate links were used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

The Trauma Beat: A Case for Re-Thinking the Business of Bad News by Tamara Cherry is a compelling examination of the trauma caused by media coverage of crimes to victims, their families, and the journalists involved. Cherry is a former crime reporter, so The Trauma Beat blends her experiences with research she has carried out since leaving journalism.

Given that Cherry is Canadian, the book is North America focused, but it’s also relevant on this side of the Atlantic. Throughout, Cherry shares her experiences on the job and is frank about the occasions she went too far to get the story. 

The Trauma Beat isn’t explicitly about true crime media and content, but it feels part of the broader conversation around exactly whose trauma is deemed newsworthy and why. In talking to survivors, victims of crime, and their families, Cherry shows that for many people dealing with the media meant re-traumatising themselves. 

While making a case for trauma-informed reporting, Cherry applies this to everyone involved. Yes, we should be asking what it is like to have a camera or microphone shoved in your face minutes after surviving a mass shooting. As our understanding of trauma grows, we should also ask about the lasting impact on the journalist holding the microphone.

I was reading this the week of the Creeslough explosion last year, and it changed how I viewed the news coverage of the unfolding tragedy. It has changed how I read, watch, and listen to all news. I doubt I’ll be the only reader affected by it in this way. 

The Trauma Beat: A Case for Re-Thinking the Business of Bad News by Tamara Cherry is published on May 9th by ECW Press and is available in paperback and ebook format.

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Body Work: The Radical Power of Personal Narrative by Melissa Febos

Body Work: The Radical Power of Personal Narrative by Melissa Febos. No Advance Reader Copy included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

“People have always liked to read confessional work, and they often liked to denigrate it as well. It was a popular style, then it wasn’t, then it was again.”

Body Work by Melissa Febos isn’t a straightforward how-to-write memoir guide. But, Febos’ blend of memoir and cultural criticism is a master class in the art, craft, practicalities, and ethics of writing personal non-fiction. 

I read this last year, but I have been thinking of it again after reading literary agent Rachel Mills’ article in The Bookseller about whether the publishing industry does enough to protect authors who write memoirs. At under 200 pages, the four essays in Body Work examine the complexities of putting yourself on the page.

In Praise of Navel-Gazing is a defence of the very term regularly used to dismiss memoir and other forms of life writing, especially women’s writing, navel-gazing. Febos contends that “Navel-gazing is not for the faint of heart. The risk of honest self-appraisal requires bravery.” She also reminds us that men’s personal stories are usually not considered navel-gazing. 

Mind Fuck: Writing Better Sex explores the politics of desire, sexuality, gender, and how the patriarchy impacts how we write about sex. A writing exercise Febos gets her students to do is write about their sex life in five sentences. She then asks them to do this three more times without repeating anything. The aim is to show that (a) their writing gets better and (b) they won’t run out of ways to tell their stories. 

A Big Shitty Party: Six Parables of Writing About Other People is my standout essay of the collection. Febos shares what she has learned from different experiences of writing about other people in her work and how those people reacted. In some cases, Febos let them know beforehand. In others, she didn’t. In some cases, she obscured people’s identities. In others, she didn’t. It’s fascinating to see how Febos’ approach to this has evolved. I especially appreciated the acknowledgement that “The published word of a writer will last longer than that of any person who is not a public figure.” 

In The Return: The Art of Confession, Febos looks at the history of confessional writing, including the origins of the word confessional. Febos makes clear that memoir and personal non-fiction have always existed, there are times when it is more popular than others, but it isn’t going to disappear as an art form any time soon. 

While Febos has much to teach writers of personal non-fiction in its many forms, readers of the genre will also enjoy these essays. 

You can’t tell from the photo above that my copy is dog-eared, covered in sticky tabs, underlined paragraphs, and notes scribbled in the margins, which is how most of my Melissa Febos books end up. The exception is Girlhood which I read on my Kindle, but I ordered a physical copy to add notes while rereading. 

Body Work: The Radical Power of Personal Narrative by Melissa Febos is published by Catapult (in the US) and Manchester University Press (in Europe) and is available in paperback, ebook, and audiobook format. 

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All the books I read in February

No Advance Reader Copies (eARCs) or affiliate links are used in this round-up. Read my full disclosure policy here.

I’m deep into rewatching Six Feet Under for the umpteenth time, so I didn’t read much this month. By my usual standards, I know five books a month is a lot for many people. 

Floor Sample: A Creative Memoir by Julia Cameron

Floor Sample is Julia Cameron’s memoir about addiction, mental illness, recovery, motherhood, and creativity. Cameron shares her descent into alcohol addiction, drug use, and the episodes of psychosis that led to her being hospitalised. She is also candid about her relationship breakdowns, her experience of motherhood and her changing relationship with her daughter, Domenica. 

Floor Sample grabs your attention from the first page and doesn’t let up as we see how, throughout it all, Cameron built a creative life for herself — something she teaches others to do in The Artist’s Way. Cameron is a prolific writer, teacher, poet, playwright, filmmaker, composer, and journalist. I kept thinking, “how does she find the time to do everything?”  

The Year of the Cat: A Love Story by Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett

On the surface, Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett’s The Year of the Cat is about getting a kitten during the year of many pandemic-related lockdowns. It is also a tender, moving and beautifully written exploration of PTSD, family, motherhood, and the forced separation from our families and support networks that so many of us faced at the height of the pandemic. 

How to Survive a Plague: The Story of How Activists and Scientists Tamed AIDS by David France

It took me almost a year to listen to David France’s How to Survive a Plague, but only because it was a library audiobook I needed to return and check out multiple times. It is a brilliantly written history of the AIDS epidemic in the US. 

France combines the personal, the political and the scientific giving the reader a deep and lasting understanding of why it fell to gay and bisexual men, the broader LGBTQ+ community and grassroots activists to push the medical and public health establishment into taking AIDS seriously. 

The Tragedy of Heterosexuality by Jane Ward

The Tragedy of Heterosexuality, the title of Jane Ward’s examination of the pitfalls of straight culture, is a play on the idea that it is a tragedy to queer. What if heterosexuality has more problems than we’re willing to admit? 

I read this as research for an essay I’m writing (the same reason I read Mating in Captivity by Esther Perel), and I genuinely think it has rearranged my brain. It’s queer. It’s feminist. It challenges the notion that queer people would choose to be straight if they could. Ward argues that straight men could learn a thing or two about embodying their love of women from queer women. 

While Ward references the LGBTQ+ community throughout, she often speaks of women as being straight or lesbian with little to no mention of bisexual, pansexual, and other m-spec women. Given that bi+ people have unique experiences with both queer culture and straight culture, this felt like a missed opportunity. I do not doubt that others will expand on Ward’s work, so I read this as the beginning of a much-needed conversation rather than the final say. 

Where I End by Sophie White

I’ve already reviewed Where I End, but the TL;DR version is that Sophie White has crafted a literary horror story that snakes its way into your brain and will not leave. It will take a truly exceptional book to beat this for my book of the year, a bold claim to make in February!   

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Where I End by Sophie White

Where I End by Sophie White. No Advance Reader Copy included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

“My Mother.

At night, my mother creaks. The house creaks along with her.”

Good Jaysus! What the hell did I just read?! This review will be mainly about the unsettling vibes of Sophie White’s Where I End because discussing the plot would give too much away. But, also, if I explained the whole story, you wouldn’t believe me anyway.

Aoileann lives on a remote island with her Móraí and her mother, who will not, or cannot, leave her bed. Having moved to the mainland, Aoileann's father, whom she calls Dada, visits once a month. The other islanders go out of their way to avoid Aoileann for reasons she does not fully understand because they have always reacted this way to her. 

When Rachel, an artist, arrives on the island with her newborn son, Aoileann sees the life she never had and a future she never dreamed of until now.

“My house. 

I don’t understand my house. It has never been explained to me. From the outside it is backwards. Circle it and you’ll see.”

If you’ve read more than one review of Where I End, you’ll have seen it repeatedly described as visceral, gruesome, chilling, unsettling, dark, twisted, and horrific. These are also my descriptions of the novel. It is a novel full of body horror. It is also full of psychological horror. It is bone-chillingly disturbing and made my skin crawl multiple times. 

None of this sounds appealing, yet I could not stop reading. I almost missed a meeting because I needed to see how it ended. On a sentence level, Sophie White has crafted a literary horror story that snakes its way into your brain and will not leave. These characters are fictional, but I desperately want to know how things turned out for them all following the novel’s conclusion. That’s how immersive this book is and how brilliant a writer Sophie White is. 

Where I End has surpassed Human Remains by Elizabeth Haynes for the title of the creepiest novel I have read, and I didn’t think anything could get more disturbing than Human Remains. 

Where I End by Sophie White is published by Tramp Press and is available in paperback and ebook format. 

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All the books I read in January

This round-up includes some Advance Reader Copies (eARCs) from publishers via NetGalley. These books are marked with an *. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

The one upside to January feeling like it crammed three months into the space of one is the amount of reading I did. 

I mentioned in my 2022 wrap-up that I was hoping to read more fiction this year, so I joined a few online book clubs, read-alongs, and buddy reads. 

Trespasses by Louise Kennedy

This was the Tired Mammy Book Club pick for the month. Set in mid-70s Northern Ireland, Trespasses is an evocative novel centred on an illicit relationship between Cushla, a 20-something teacher, and Michael, an older married barrister. Cushla is Catholic, and Michael is Protestant, so his marital status isn’t the only complicated thing about their relationship. When not teaching, Cushla is either looking after her mother, an alcoholic, working alongside her brother in the family’s pub, or trying her best to help Davy, one of her students, and his family.

Louise Kennedy excels at writing about the quiet, often mundane, moments of daily life and the absurdity of what became the new normal during the Troubles. I liked but didn’t love this one. I didn’t connect with either Cushla or Michael in a way that meant I felt invested in their story. 

A Week in Winter by Maeve Binchy

A Week in Winter was the Maeve Binchy Book Club book of the month. This felt more like a series of connected short stories than a novel, which I think is a testament to Binchy’s love of the short story. Each chapter focuses on a different character with a connection to Stoneybridge, on the west coast of Ireland, or a visitor to Stoneybridge’s newest hotel Stone House. A Week in Winter isn’t my favourite Maeve Binchy, but it is enjoyable.

Farewell Waltz by Milan Kundera

Where to start with this! I needed to remind myself that the absurdity was deliberate. I also needed to remind myself that the misogyny was deliberate. Knowing these things did not make reading it any more enjoyable. By the end, I was hate-reading it! 

That said, the Abortion Book Club discussion was worth it. I was relieved that I wasn't the only one hate-reading! Someone summed it up perfectly by saying that it was a terrible book to read but a great one to discuss. 

Next, we have the audiobooks that kept me company while walking Arwen, the dog! 

  • I read In Search of Madness: A Psychiatrist’s Travels Through the History of Mental Illness by Brendan Kelly as research for an essay I’m writing. It was informative in parts and frustrating in others.

  • More than once, during Group, Christie Tate joked about “if it sounds like I am in a cult” before describing either the actions of her therapist, Dr Rosen, or her actions following the homework Dr Rosen set. This says a lot about Dr Rosen’s unconventional methods, as the blurb describes them. I found myself calling his actions unethical multiple times. 

  • How to be Alone by Lane Moore is a humourous collection of essays about trauma, complicated familial relationships, and mental illness, which sounds like a strange mix Moore pulls it off with aplomb. 

  • Out of Office by Charlie Warzel and Anne Helen Peterson combines their experiences of moving to a rural area and working remotely with an examination of the failings of office culture. Given they both live and work in America, it’s US-centric in its outlook. That health insurance is tied to employment in the US makes this outlook understandable. It was an interesting listen, but I’m not the book’s target audience! 

I am still playing catch-up with my NetGalley to-read shelf, so these books were advance copies when I downloaded them onto my Kindle but were all published by the time I read them.

No Choice by Becca Andrews*

No Choice* is an in-depth look at the history of abortion rights in America and an examination of the fallout from the US Supreme Court Dobbs decision, which overturned Roe V. Wade. Throughout the book, Andrews interviews people who have had abortions, abortion providers, and activists giving the reader a deep understanding of how reproductive justice isn't only an abstract concept but something that deeply impacts people's lives.

It will make you angry, but it will also make you appreciate the continued work of activists, abortion funds, clinic escorts and clinic defenders. A must-read! 

Obsessive Intrusive Magical Thinking by Marianne Eloise*

I’ve been a fan of Marianne Eloise’s journalism for a while, so I looked forward to reading her essay collection. It didn’t disappoint! Obsessive Intrusive Magical Thinking* brilliantly explores the intersection of Eloise’s experience with obsession, neurodivergence and disorder. Marianne is autistic, has ADHD, and was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder. 

The standout essays were; Yesterday, Tomorrow and Fantasy, Everything is on Fire, City of Angels, Too Much Memento Mori, Do I Believe in Magic? Sort Of, and Help! The Gorgon Medusa Lives Behind My Fish Tank.

You Don’t Know What War Is by Yeva Skaliestska* 

At the beginning of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, Yeva Skaliestska began keeping a diary. You Don’t Know What War Is* is that diary which details Yeva’s life in Ukraine with her grandmother, leaving their home and, ultimately, their country. An encounter with a Channel 4 news team and an interview about Yeva’s diary meant Yeva and her grandmother were supported as they escaped Ukraine to seek refuge in Ireland. 

Throughout the book, Yeva shares text messages from her school group chat, giving us a glimpse at her friends' experiences. They also share their hopes for the future at the end, which is moving. 

I read Zlata's Diary by Zlata Filipovic, about the Siege of Sarajevo, when it was published in the mid-90s. I was in primary school, and it is a reading experience that has stayed with me. I hope Yeva’s words have a similar impact on the young(er) people who read them. 

Now for the two non-fiction books that didn’t fit in the loose categories I’ve used for this wrap-up, so I’ve grouped them. 

  • Sabotage: How to Silence Your Inner Critic and Get Out of Your Own Way by Emma Gannon is best described as a short pep-talk from a friend. A pep-talk where you know all the information beforehand, but hearing it from your friend allows your brain to absorb it better. 

  • More research (for a different essay) but Mating in Captivity: How to keep desire and passion alive in long-term relationships by Esther Perel is a book I want everyone to read. It is thought-provoking and confronting, yet full of compassion and wisdom. Whether you are in a long-term relationship or not, it’s a book worth picking up. 

I didn’t finish Paper Cup by Karen Campbell, the January choice for the Another Chapter podcast read-along. The writing style wasn’t for me, but based on the group chat, I know I’m in the minority here. 

In solidarity with the HarperCollins Union, who are currently on strike, I haven’t included the two books I read published by HarperCollins. The union is asking book reviewers to hold their reviews until they receive a fair contract. You can find out more about the strike by following @hcpunion on Instagram.

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2022: A Year in Books

This round-up includes some Advance Reader Copies (eARCs) from publishers via Netgalley. These books are marked with an *. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

Throughout the pandemic, I have been in one of two modes; capable of reading but unable to write coherent reviews or capable of writing reviews but unable to concentrate on reading. The two used to go hand in hand for me, but since early 2020 it’s like those two parts of my brain stopped talking to each other. Given that I enjoy writing about books, this is frustrating. If you follow me on Instagram, you might have noticed that I tend not to post for months and then share multiple book reviews in a row. Instead of my favourite books of the year, I thought I'd take you on a whistle-stop tour of what I’ve read (and abandoned) in 2022. Clare Egan’s 2021 list inspired this yearly round-up. 

I began the year the same way I begin most, trying and failing to clear my to-read shelf on Netgalley. Hopefully, 2023 will finally be the year I get my feedback ratio above 80%! 

Dear Reader by Cathy Rentzenbrink* is an ode to the power, joy, and comfort of reading written with a warmth and humour that makes it feel like you are simply chatting to Cathy over coffee about books. 

If anyone else wrote The Fell* I wouldn’t have picked it up, but Sarah Moss is one of my favourite authors, so I was intrigued to see how she’d handle a pandemic novel. It is a thought-provoking portrayal of the impact of the lockdowns and explores why people made the decisions they did. I loved it. 

I read Idol by Louise O’Neill* in two sittings with my heart in my mouth as we witness Samantha Miller’s life publicly unravel. The dynamic between Samantha and Lisa, both as teenagers and in the novel’s present, is frustrating due to O’Neill’s lack of engagement with how the central incident would be viewed or experienced through an LGBTQIA+ lens. The whole thing felt like a plot device dismissive of lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, and other m-spec (multi-spectrum or multiple-attraction spectrum) women’s experiences of sexual violence.

Claire Keegan’s Small Things Like These* is set in New Ross in 1985, so it’s safe to say that most people in or from Ireland will immediately know where the plot is headed. Keegan is a talented writer who excels at describing the quiet moments of everyday life, but the ending didn’t have as profound an impact on me as it has had on others. 

Set during the first lockdown in Ireland, 56 Days by Catherine Ryan Howard* is a novel full of secrets. We know from the blurb that Gardaí find a decomposing body, but figuring out who the victim is and what happened isn’t going to be easy. I wasn’t a fan of this one, but it is difficult to discuss why without giving too much away. 

Breaking Point by Edel Coffey* is another one that’s difficult to talk about without spoiling the plot, but I’d describe it as a tense novel that isn’t quite a psychological thriller, but that’s the closest to a genre I can place it in. From the blurb, we know Dr Susannah Rice’s baby daughter dies following a tragic accident. An accident which sees Dr Sue charged with negligence. There were parts of this I liked. Other parts, including the ending, not so much. That said, I am looking forward to seeing what Edel Coffey publishes next. 

Bisexual Men Exist: A Handbook for Bisexual, Pansexual and M-Spec Men by Vaneet Mehta* looks at the issues that bi, pan, and m-spec men face. It is a well-researched dismantling of misconceptions about bisexuality and a celebration of m-spec identities. I read an advance copy, it’s out in January from Jessica Kingsley Publishers. 

The Trauma Beat: A Case for Re-Thinking the Business of Bad News by Tamara Cherry* is an eye-opening examination of the trauma caused by media coverage of crimes to victims, their families, and the journalists involved. Cherry is a former crime reporter, so The Trauma Beat* blends her experiences with research she has carried out since leaving journalism. I read an advance copy, it’s out in May from ECW Press. 

Saying I enjoyed memoirs about grief sounds strange, but The Light Streamed Beneath It by Shawn Hitchins* and Totally Fine (And Other Lies I’ve Told Myself) by Tiffany Philippou* both captured the messiness of grief in ways that resonated with me. 

Rounding out my Netgalley reads are The Last Days by Ali Millar*, The Crane Wife: A Memoir in Essays by CJ Hauser* and The Transgender Issue by Shon Faye*. I’m planning longer reviews for these, but The Last Days* is a visceral memoir about Ali Millar’s life as a Jehovah’s Witness and her decision to leave. The Crane Wife* was a hit-and-miss read, but this collection has some great essays. In The Transgender Issue*, Shon Faye makes the case for trans liberation by deconstructing the arguments that deny trans and non-binary bodily autonomy. It’s a must-read. 

I abandoned a handful of books. Some I will return to; I just wasn’t in the right headspace. Others I have no intention of ever picking up again. 

  • Acts of Desperation by Megan Nolan; I love Megan Nolan’s writing style, so I’ll come back to this one.

  • What It Feels Like For A Girl by Paris Lees; My Covid-addled brain struggled with the dialect in this. Now that the brain fog has lifted, it’s on my list for 2023. 

  • The Vanishing Triangle: The Murdered Women Ireland Forgot by Claire McGowan; I was so frustrated by this book that I threw my Kindle down forcefully on the couch, which is the modern equivalent of flinging a book across the room. I won’t be giving this a second chance. 

  • How To Do The Work by Dr Nicole LePera; The only good thing I have to say is that I am glad I got it from the library instead of buying it. 

I have a complicated relationship with audiobooks. No matter how hard I try, I cannot listen to fiction. Unless it is something I’ve already read multiple times, my brain refuses to retain fictional storylines consumed this way. I’m okay with non-fiction audiobooks, though. I’m guessing because my brain thinks of them as really long podcasts. 

Diagnosis: Solving the Most Baffling Medical Mysteries by Lisa Sanders, M.D. is a fascinating collection of patient experiences from Dr Sanders’ New York Times column as they search for diagnoses and treatment for their outside of the ‘norm’ symptoms. 

Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism by Amanda Montell tells us that the language of cults is no longer solely used by cults. An enjoyable listen that will raise your blood pressure more than once, given how common this cultish behaviour has become. 

Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic: How to Live a Creative Life, and Let Go of Your Fear is one of my go-to books when I’m feeling ‘meh’ with life. That Gilbert reads the audiobook herself made it extra comforting. 

The central question of The Psychopath Test by Jon Ronson is, ‘What if everything we know about madness is wrong?’ While the answer isn’t easy, Ronson takes us on a compelling search. 

I wish Dr Julia Shaw’s Bi: The Hidden Culture, History and Science of Bisexuality was around when I was questioning my sexuality during my 20s. Using her expertise as a psychological scientist and her experience as a bisexual woman Dr Shaw encourages us to think more broadly about sexuality and informs (or reminds) us that bisexual, pansexual, and other m-spec people have always existed. 

When It Is Darkest: Why People Die by Suicide and What We Can Do to Prevent It by Rory O'Connor wasn’t an easy listen subject-wise, but I’m glad I stuck with it. 

There is a sentence in the introduction to Barry Cummins’ Missing: The Unsolved Cases of Ireland's Vanished Women and Children that I still think about months later, ‘Either a serial killer is responsible for many unsolved abductions and murders in Ireland, or a number of killers, who have so far evaded justice, could strike again.’

I’m sorry it took me so long to move Don’t Touch My Hair by Emma Dabiri to the top of my to-be-read list. It’s an engaging examination of race, racism, colonialism, black oppression, the fetishisation of black women, and the struggle for black liberation told through the lens of black hair. 

I read a few books that were fine, but I wouldn't be in a hurry to recommend them. If you have absolutely nothing to read, then go ahead. Otherwise, focus on your to-be-read pile! 

  • My Mother, Munchausen's and Me: A true story of betrayal and a shocking family secret by Helen Naylor

  • Things That Helped: Essays by Jessica Friedmann

  • Write It All Down: How to Put Your Life on the Page by Cathy Rentzenbrink

Like a lot of people, I spent much of the year recovering from Covid-19 (twice!) and the many viral and bacterial infections that settled on my chest, so I’ve grouped the books I read while sick. 

Jamie Varon’s Radically Content: Being Satisfied in an Endlessly Dissatisfied World felt like a much-needed pep talk from a friend. It is part memoir and part critique of the social conditioning that leads us, as a society, to always strive for the next milestone. Similarly, (Dis)Connected: How to Stay Human in an Online World by Emma Gannon was a pep-talk about changing how you think and live online. The TL;DR is that you don’t need to throw your phone in the sea, but we can all be more intentional about how we use social media.

Pacemaker by David Toms is a beautifully written memoir about chronic illness, walking, and how to live life while considering your body’s limitations. The prose is intimate, precise, and poetic. I underlined so many sentences and paragraphs that I might as well have highlighted the entire book!

Recovery: The Lost Art of Convalescence by Dr Gavin Francis is a meditation on recovery and convalescence that is an easy but informative read full of empathy, wisdom, and hope.

Jessica DeFino recommended Clean: The New Science of Skin and the Beauty of Doing Less by James Hamblin. It’ll make you think differently about how many beauty products you purchase, and I learned a lot about the increasing research into the skin’s microbiome. 

Cookbook memoirs are a genre I didn’t know I needed until Sophie White’s Recipes for a Nervous Breakdown and Ella Risbridger’s Midnight Chicken (& Other Recipes Worth Living For) kept me sane while I was stuck in my bedroom during my second bout of Covid. P and I were both sick the first time, so I didn’t get the complete stay one-room experience until the second time. I didn’t cope well with it at all. 

Next, we have three books about sobriety. 

  • Sunshine Warm Sober is the follow-up to Catherine Gray's The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober. Gray discusses life as she approaches a decade of being alcohol-free with the same honesty, grace, and humour as her debut memoir. It was interesting to see Gray share the things she would have done differently with The Unexpected Joy of Being Sober and how she thinks about alcohol, the alcohol industry and its hold on society has evolved. 

  • We Are The Luckiest: The Surprising Magic of a Sober Life is the story of how and why Laura McKeon got sober. It is also the story of the times McKeon quit drinking and then relapsed. I appreciated McKeon's frankness about how her drinking affected her marriage and also how she raised her daughter. 

  • In Not Drinking Tonight: A Guide to Creating a Sober Life You Love, therapist and 'retired party girl' Amanda White provides judgement-free advice on rethinking your relationship with alcohol. Not Drinking Tonight is centred around composite characters based on White's experiences with her therapy clients. I didn't get on with the format, but I can see it being valuable to people who are sober curious or early in their sobriety.

Sarah Manguso’s work was mentioned during a writing workshop I took in February, which I am grateful for because she soon joined my favourite authors' list. 300 Arguments is a collection of fragmented prose and poetry aphorisms. The Two Kinds of Decay is a stunning memoir about the autoimmune disease Manguso developed during her 20s and what it means to be chronically ill. 

Speaking of chronic illnesses, I read The Invisible Kingdom: Reimagining Chronic Illness by Meghan O'Rourke and What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma by Stephanie Foo and was deeply moved by both of them. They both blend memoir with research and are welcome additions to the growing—and much-needed—body of work about what it means to be disabled or chronically ill. 

I’m calling this section non-fiction books that don’t fit anywhere else, so I’ve put them on this list! 

  • Five Minute Therapy by psychotherapist Sarah Crosby is a gentle breakdown of attachment, boundaries, self-talk, triggers, and reparenting that provides a solid grounding in how each can affect our mental health.

  • I was familiar with the CSI effect, where jurors expect forensic evidence in every case, but I was shocked to discover just how much forensic science is anything but scientific. In Junk Science and the American Criminal Justice System, M. Chris Fabricant takes through the many failings of the US criminal justice system, including its reliance on forensic science and ‘expert witnesses’, and his work as an attorney with the Innocence Project to exonerate people who were wrongly convicted. 

  • Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Y. Davis is an excellent introduction to the case for prison abolition. Many of the online resources I found assumed people already understood prison abolition, which isn’t the case here, which I appreciated. 

  • Bodies on the Line: At the Front Lines of the Fight to Protect Abortion in America by Lauren Rankin charts the fight for abortion rights in America through the eyes of abortion clinic escorts, abortion clinic defenders, and grassroots activists and organisers. Bodies on the Line is a powerful tribute to the ordinary everyday people who continuously show up to ensure people access abortion care without facing intimidation from anti-abortion protesters. 

  • We Will Not Cancel Us by adrienne maree brown is a critique of cancel culture from a ‘Black, queer, and feminist viewpoint’ (I’ve taken this from the blurb because it sums it up better than I could) that centres transformative justice. I want to press a copy into the hands of every activist and organiser I know.

  • The Best American Essays is one of my favourite anthologies, and the 2022 edition, guest edited by Alexander Chee didn’t disappoint. 

Mar Grace writes the Monday Monday newsletter, which I look forward to reading each week so, naturally, I bought their books. How to Not Always Be Working: A Toolkit for Creativity and Radical Self-Care is part workbook and part advice manual. It wasn’t the right fit for me, purely because of how my life is structured, but I can see myself returning to some of the exercises in the future. On the other hand, Getting to Center: Pathways to Finding Yourself Within the Great Unknown is one of those books that came along at the perfect time and rearranged my brain in the best possible way.

My love affair with memoirs and essay collections continues. I’ve individual reviews of these planned, but I include them here so it doesn’t look like I read 13+ plus books in January.

  • Bluets by Maggie Nelson

  • The Instant by Amy Liptrot

  • White Magic by Elissa Washuta

  • Negative Space by Cristín Leach

  • Unsettled by Rosaleen McDonagh

  • Heretic: A Memoir by Jeanna Kadlec

  • Rust Belt Femme by Raechel Anne Jolie

  • All this happened, more or less by Jayne A. Quan

  • The Madness: a memoir of war, fear and PTSD by Fergal Keane

  • Foreverland: On the Divine Tedium of Marriage by Heather Haverilesky

  • Belabored: A Vindication of the Rights of Pregnant Women by Lyz Lenz

  • Body Work: The Radical Power of Personal Narrative by Melissa Febos

  • I Hope We Choose Love: A Trans Girl's Notes from the End of the World by Kai Cheng Thom

December saw me reading Christmas-themed books for the first time in years, thanks to the Maeve Binchy Book Club and the Tired Mammy Book Club on Instagram. This Year it Will be Different by Maeve Binchy was a short story collection with very little Christmas cheer and loads of Christmas misery. Catherine Walsh’s Holiday Romance was a fun, cosy, festive friends-to-lovers story full of Irish humour and wit that would make a good film. 

I re-read two books, Beautiful World, Where Are You by Sally Rooney and Corpsing: My Body & Other Horror Shows by Sophie White. 

  • Beautiful World, Where Are You was as much a delight on re-reading as it was the first time. 

  • The essays in Corpsing will get under your skin in the way that only Sophie White’s writing can. Her writing is evocative, guttural, and unflinching. It’s one of the best essay collections I’ve read. 

I read 63 books, which surprised me, given the time I spent unable to concentrate due to Covid-19 related fatigue and brain fog. My reading is usually more evenly split between fiction and non-fiction, but non-fiction was more dominant last year. I’m looking forward to reading more novels.

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Pacemaker by David Toms

Pacemaker by David Toms. No Advance Reader Copy included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

Every time I write about my heart, I write about walking. Every time I write about walking, I write about my heart.

David Toms was born with a rare heart condition. A condition that has shaped his life through childhood surgeries, dictating which sports he can and cannot play, and the knowledge that his heart could stop working at any time. A condition that results in him needing a pacemaker. 

Structured as a series of vignettes, David takes us through different periods of his life and how walking is a constant among the uncertainty surrounding his health. Now living in Norway, we get to walk with David through forests, while he runs errands, around hospital grounds, and on his daily outings with Madra. When David is hospitalised at the beginning of the pandemic, his partner Maria cannot be with him. His parents are also unable to travel to Oslo. Some of their text messages are included in the places where David has little memory of what happened, which adds to the intimacy of the story. 

Pacemaker is a beautifully written memoir about chronic illness, walking, and how to live life while considering your body’s limitations. David’s prose is intimate, precise, and poetic. I’ve underlined so many sentences and paragraphs that I might as well have highlighted the entire book! 

I’ll leave you with one of my favourite passages, “To have an invisible illness is to invite suspicion. I sometimes felt as though I should keep copies of my medical history on me to throw in the face of those who didn’t believe me. I could have it perfect bound, like a dossier, to drop on tables. A book of evidence."

Pacemaker by David Toms is published by Banshee Press and is available in hardback and ebook format.

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Idol by Louise O'Neill

Idol by Louise O’Neill. Advance Reader Copy (eARC) from the publisher via Netgalley included. No affiliate links were used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

I read Louise O’Neill’s Idol in two sittings with my heart in my mouth as we witness Samantha Miller’s life publicly unravel. The novel lives up to its thriller descriptor. Yet, weeks after finishing it, I was frustrated by how a particular aspect of the story was handled. It’s not something I have seen mentioned in any of the reviews I’ve read, but I still feel this way months later. 

From the blurb, we know that Samantha Miller’s career as an influencer is going from strength to strength. Her latest book Chaste is an instant bestseller, and her follower count has hit three million. While promoting Chaste, Samantha publishes an essay about a sexual experience with her best friend, Lisa, while they were teenagers. But Lisa’s memory of that night differs from Samantha’s. 

They cannot both be right, so whose version of that night is the truth? As Samantha faces increased scrutiny, she wonders whether the life and career she has built will come crashing down around her. 

Idol is a compelling exploration of influencer culture, cancel culture, the Me Too movement, and trauma's effect on someone’s memory. This brings me to my main issue, the dynamic between Samantha and Lisa, both as teenagers and in the present, is complex. Yet, Louise O’Neill never fully engages with how this “she said, she said” story would be viewed or experienced through an LGBTQ+ lens. Neither character is explicitly queer. In her essay, Samantha emphasises that they are both straight. 

I get it: For many people, myself included, sexuality is fluid, and the words we use to describe ourselves often change (again, I include myself here). But, for me, the whole thing felt like a plot device that while not Louise O’Neill’s intention ended up being more than a little dismissive of lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, and other m-spec women’s experiences of sexual violence.

Idol by Louise O’Neill is published by Bantam Press, an imprint of Transworld Publishers and Penguin Random House. Idol is available in hardback, trade paperback, ebook, and audiobook format.

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The Light Streamed Beneath It by Shawn Hitchins

The Light Streamed Beneath It by Shawn Hitchins. Advance Reader Copy (eARC) from the publisher via Netgalley included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

“Sometimes we must let ourselves feel haunted to propel us towards the safety of others.”

Describing a memoir about grief as a joy to read sounds strange, but that’s how I feel about The Light Streamed Beneath It by Shawn Hitchins. The subtitle, A Memoir of Grief and Celebration, indicates what to expect, so maybe “a joy to read” isn’t so strange a description after all. 

In the space of five months, Shawn loses two men he loved. Matt, Shawn’s former common-law husband, dies following an accident. David, Shawn’s former boyfriend, dies as a result of suicide. 

Yes, The Light Streamed Beneath It is about grief. But it is also a story about queerness, love, friendship, chosen families, long-distance relationships, connection, discovery, and rediscovery of the fact that life carries on following a bereavement. You are changed irrevocably, but the world keeps spinning, so you must relearn to experience life. 

Grief can be a profoundly isolating experience, even while surrounded by others grieving the same person. Grief is also a communal experience, which can be incredibly healing. With The Light Streamed Beneath It, Shawn Hitchins captures the reality that both can be true simultaneously. 

The Light Streamed Beneath It by Shawn Hitchins is published by ECW Press and is available in paperback, ebook, and audiobook format. 

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Recovery: The Lost Art of Convalescence by Dr Gavin Francis

Recovery: The Lost Art of Convalescence by Dr Gavin Francis. No Advance Reader Copy included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

Recovery: The Lost Art of Convalescence by Dr Gavin Francis is a meditation on recovery and convalescence. Drawing on his experience as a general practitioner and the time he spent recovering from childhood illness and injury, Dr Francis makes a compelling case for a renewed focus on the time it takes people to recover and heal from all manner of ailments. 

I read this while recuperating from my second bout of Covid during the summer, and much of the guidance for recovering from mild cases of Covid boils down to taking things as easy as you can for as long as you can. Even after your initial symptoms have passed. Which I was lucky to be able to do. Many people do not have the same luxury due to family, work, and other caring responsibilities. This disparity in who is allowed the time, space, and slower pace of life needed during recovery is a central theme of the book.

Dr Francis discusses the history of convalescent hospitals and rest cures. He is clear that not all ‘rest cures’ were created equally and that women were subjected to ‘rest cures’ at much higher rates than men. We can thank our old friend misogyny for that! Yet, rest still has a role in Western medicine. Although, the medical system isn’t structured with rest in mind. 

At just over 100 pages, Recovery is an easy but informative read full of empathy, wisdom, and hope. It would make an excellent present for people, given the time of year! 

Recovery: The Lost Art of Convalescence by Dr Gavin Francis is published by Wellcome Collection and is available in paperback, ebook, and audiobook format.

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The Fell by Sarah Moss

The Fell by Sarah Moss. Advance Reader Copy (eARC) from the publisher via Netgalley included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

Paula's e-reader is lying on a grey fluffy blanket beside a cup of coffee. The e-reader is open on the title page of The Fell by Sarah Moss.

If The Fell had been written by anyone else, I am not sure I would have picked up. It is too soon for fiction about the pandemic that is still happening has been my response whenever I’ve seen or heard mention of the topic. Sarah Moss is one of my favourite authors, so I made an exception. 

It is November 2020, and Kate is in the middle of a two-week quarantine period. She is missing her routine, her long walks and the feeling of fresh air in her lungs. The moor will be deserted, so where is the harm in going for a walk when Kate knows that she won’t run into people? 

Told from four different perspectives, we have Kate, her teenage son Matt, their neighbour Alice who is shielding, and Rob, who is a search and rescue volunteer. 

Kate’s walk doesn’t go as planned, and Matt realises that she is missing. He is desperate to find her but doesn’t want to get his mother in trouble for breaking quarantine either. Maybe Alice knows where Kate went? 

At under 150 pages, Moss has given us an intense and claustrophobic novel that never feels rushed. Each of the characters is fully realised, and true to Moss’s previous work, the sense of place is so strong that it almost feels like you are right beside Kate. 

The Fell is a thought-provoking portrayal of the impact of the lockdowns and an exploration of why people made the decisions that they did. I loved it. 

The Fell by Sarah Moss is published by Picador, an imprint of Pan Macmillan, and is available in hardback, ebook and audiobook format.

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Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan

Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan. Advance Reader Copy (eARC) from the publisher via Netgalley included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

How do you talk about a novella that is just over 100 pages long and the blurb only eludes to the plot by stating that the protagonist, Bill Furlong, ‘encounters the complicit silences of a people controlled by the Church.’? 

Small Things Like These is set in New Ross in 1985, so it’s safe to say that most people in or from Ireland will immediately know what is being referred to. Yet, for people who don’t know the full extent of the Catholic Church’s control over Ireland and our history of ‘institutions’, much of the atmosphere of Small Things Like These is in sensing that something is wrong, but only discovering what that something is as Bill Furlong becomes more and more concerned about what is happening in the Good Sheperd Convent. 

It is the weeks before Christmas and Bill Furlong, a coal and timber merchant, is the busiest he has been all year. While going about his days, Furlong reflects on his unusual childhood and life as it is now, with his wife and daughters. 

As I was reading the words Dickensian, fable and fairytale kept rattling around my brain. Small Things Like These is a strange blend of all three without fully committing to any of them. Dickens being referenced only added to this feeling. 

Claire Keegan is a talented writer, she excels at describing the quiet moments of everyday life. However, for me, the elements of the story don’t quite come together. I don’t mean the actions Bill Furlong takes, but Keegan’s decision to end the novella where she does. Objectively, I understand why she did. But as a reader, it did not have the profound impact on me that it has had on others.

Which I know puts me in a minority.

Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan is published by Faber & Faber and is available in hardback, ebook and audiobook format.

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Totally Fine (And Other Lies I've Told Myself) by Tifanny Philippou

Totally Fine (And Other Lies I’ve Told Myself) by Tiffany Philippou. Advance Reader Copy (eARC) from the publisher via Netgalley included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here. 

Grief is universal, yet no two people experience it the same way. When Tiffany Philippou’s boyfriend Richard died by suicide while they were both at university, her life was turned upside down. But Philippou kept insisting that she was totally fine. The truth is that her grief was intertwined with shame, a shame Philippou did not know how to handle.

University and partying go hand in hand, so masking her true feelings wasn’t too difficult even from people who knew Richard and were also grieving. Once she finished university, Philippou threw herself into the world of start-ups. Working ridiculously long hours was another way of hiding from her feelings. As was not speaking about Richard with her colleagues. Eventually, Philippou moves to New York for a fresh start. 

You cannot outrun grief. And shame that is untended will fester until you have no choice but to confront it. 

At times Totally Fine (And Other Lies I’ve Told Myself) feels disjointed, which for me felt like an accurate representation of the messiness of grief but I can understand why it could detract from the reading experience for other people. 

Totally Fine (And Other Lies I’ve Told Myself) by Tiffany Philippou is published by Thread and is available in paperback, ebook, and audiobook format. 

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The Butchers by Ruth Gilligan

The Butchers by Ruth Gilligan. Advance Reader Copy (eARC) from the publisher via Netgalley included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

Opening with a mysterious photograph of a man hanging from meat hooks displayed on a gallery wall in New York for the first time since it was taken twenty years ago, The Butchers takes us back to rural Ireland in 1996 as the BSE crisis takes hold. 

The Butchers are a group of men who travel the country slaughtering cows by hand following an ancient tradition brought on by a curse. Each year fewer people continue in the old ways. 

Set in the pre-Belfast Agreement border counties of Cavan and Monaghan, the outbreak of BSE in England initially provides money-making opportunities for people who are willing to blur the lines between legal and illegal. When cases of BSE are diagnosed in Ireland, the already struggling Butchers face even more scepticism. 

Told from four perspectives, the novel shifts between Grá, the wife of a Butcher, and her daughter Úna. We also follow Fionn, a believer of the tradition, whose wife is dying, and their son Davey. 

Gilligan has written a richly layered, atmospheric, and complex exploration of folklore, traditions versus modernity, familial bonds, teenagehood, love, loss, longing, and belonging. There are elements of the story that don’t quite come together, nonetheless, The Butchers is an intriguing novel that is impressive in its scope. 

The Butchers by Ruth Gilligan is published by Atlantic Books and is available in hardback, paperback, ebook, and audiobook format. 

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Sanatorium by Abi Palmer

Sanatorium by Abi Palmer. No Advance Reader Copy included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

Abi Palmer is an artist and a writer. She is also living with multiple chronic illnesses, including psoriatic arthritis and a connective tissue disorder. Sanatorium is a memoir, told in fragments, about what it means to be disabled, deal with chronic pain, and navigate the ever-expanding wellness industry. 

The narrative jumps between Palmer’s month-long stay at a thermal water rehabilitation centre in Budapest — the sanatorium of the title — and her efforts to continue her recovery once she returns home. This shifting perspective captures the nonlinear nature of recovery and adds to the losing track of time feeling that pain so often causes. 

In Budapest, Palmer’s days are divided into blocks of time revolving around the thermal water pool that people traveled from all over the world to attend. Between her allotted stints in the sulfurous water, Palmer tries to balance the improvements promised by physical therapy and the other therapies that she is prescribed, with the risk of flare-ups triggered by the exertion of completing those same therapies.

In London, Palmer buys an inflatable bathtub because her flat doesn’t have one and she cannot get clearance to install one. She is determined to keep up the hydrotherapy, as best she can. The inflatable bathtub does what it needs to, most of the time, but it is not the same. How can it be, given the precariousness of the situation. 

Sanatorium is a blend of straightforward memoir, prose poetry, reportage, meditations on water, reflections on Saint Teresa of Ávila, and fantasy. Palmer’s writing is lucid, intense, and often stark and humorous, leading to an exploration of a body — a disabled body, a female body, a disabled female body — that is extraordinary in its scope. 

I want to press a copy of Sanatorium into the hands of everyone I know. Disabled and chronically ill people will recognise much of what Palmer discusses, even if their circumstances differ. For non-disabled people and people who do not experience chronic pain, Sanatorium provides a glimpse into the lived experience of Abi Palmer, yes, but also of their family, friends, colleagues, and loved ones. 

No two chronic pain experiences are the same, but with Sanatorium Abi Palmer skilfully adds her voice to the growing — and much needed — body of work about disabled and chronically ill bodies. 

Sanatorium by Abi Palmer is published by Penned in the Margins and is available in paperback and ebook format. 

Notes on Grief by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Notes on Grief by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. No Advance Reader Copy included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

“I am writing about my father in the past tense, and I cannot believe I am writing about my father in the past tense.” writes Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, and never has a single sentence made me sob more. I hear you. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to talking about my dad in the past tense. 

Expanding on her New Yorker essay of the same name, Notes on Grief is a moving meditation on the loss of Adichie’s father, James Nwoye Adichie, in June 2020. 

He did not die of Covid-19, yet the pandemic permeates the text in the way I imagine it has impacted so many grieving people’s lives in the last 12+ months. The changing travel restrictions meant the funeral was postponed and eventually happened without Adichie, or her other siblings who live abroad, being able to return to Nigeria. 

The regular family gatherings over Zoom morphed into planning and attending his funeral via Zoom. Igbo traditions are adapted to allow for social distancing and the other pandemic-related changes that have become second nature to us even though they are anything but normal. 

With each vignette, Adichie shares her pain and her father’s life, and the intimacies of their relationship. James Nwoye Adichie was Nigeria’s first professor of statistics. He lived through the Biafran war. Adichie calls herself a daddy’s girl and her love for him is clear to see. 

At under 100 pages, Notes on Grief captures Adichie’s realisation that no one knows how to grieve until we are forced. We think we will be prepared, but we never are. I am grateful Adichie chose to share her grief with us.

Notes on Grief by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is published by 4th Estate, an imprint of HarperCollins, and is available in hardback and ebook format. The audio version is published on July 15th. 

We Can Do Better Than This: 35 Voices On The Future Of LGBTQ+ Rights edited by Amelia Abraham

We Can Do Better Than This: 35 Voices on the Future of LGBTQ+ Rights edited by Amelia Abraham. Advance Reader Copy (eARC) from the publisher via Netgalley included. No affiliate links used. Read my full disclosure policy here.

Edited by Amelia Abraham, We Can Do Better Than This is an anthology of 35 LGBTQ+ people sharing their stories, experiences, and visions for a world where we have true LGBTQ+ liberation. 

As is common with anthologies, there are a mix of well-known voices - including Beth Ditto, Olly Alexander, Mykki Blanco, Owen Jones, Juliet Jacques, and Travis Alabanza - and LGBTQ+ people whose work I wasn't familiar with before now. 

What I like about this collection is that it goes beyond the UK and US, which are often the sole focus when discussing LGBTQ+ issues. By featuring essays about life in Bangladesh, Brazil, Russia, Uganda, and more We Can Do Better Than This provides a global perspective. 

The inclusion of asexual and intersex people also broadens the scope and highlights the experiences of people who are regularly relegated to the + in LGBTQ+, with very little representation beyond that. 

We Can Do Better Than This asks us to consider the difference between LGBTQ+ assimilation and queer liberation. It calls on us to fight for queer liberation because assimilation leaves far too many LGBTQ+ people behind. 

These essays aren't always an easy read, subject-wise, but that is what makes them essential reading. Some of the topics covered include; asexual visibility, the difficulties with accessing trans healthcare, the need to end forced surgery on intersex children and people, the rise of transphobia in the UK media, the state of LGBTQ+ mental health services, the importance of inclusive sex education in schools, and why community care is vital for both LGBTQ+ young people and LGBTQ+ older people.

We Can Do Better Than This is an impressive, engaging, and important anthology. I'd recommend it to anyone looking to learn more about global LGBTQ+ communities and experiences. 

The standout essays for me are Ace of Clubs by Yasmin Benoit, Transphobia and the UK Media by Juliet Jacques, Know Thyself, Or Don't by Naoise Dolan, Happily Ever After Isn't Accessible to Me by Andrew Gurza, The End of Forced Intersex Surgeries by Hanne Gaby Odiele, Queering Sex Ed by Sasha Kazantseva, Breaking Through: Centering the Needs of Homeless LGBTQ+ Youth by Carl Siciliano, Pronouns as Portal Magic by Bobbi Salvör Menuez, 'Everyone's Trans, Now What?' by Travis Alabanza, Ceaseless Struggles, Infinite Possibilities: Finding Liberation in Queer History by Matthew Riemer, Global Grassroots Funding by Leticia Opio, and Doing Better by Adam Eli.

We Can Do Better Than This: 35 Voices on the Future of LGBTQ+ Rights edited by Amelia Abraham is published on June 3rd by Vintage, an imprint of Penguin Random House. It is available in hardback, ebook, and audiobook format.