Two years ago today we lay on the floor with the lights off and listened to Lorde’s Melodrama, shot straight through with no speaking, no pauses. That bright blue and violent violet glowed in the gloom—the not-quite darkness, for the light lingers longer here in June; it pushes out the night until even at the […]Read more "Melodrama"
The cover depicts a still life of fruit, a Flemish master maybe, where desire meets decay and ripe meets rot. A still life of how feminine sexuality is seen and experienced in the world ― all at once it’s fresh and open, ready to devour and discuss and dissect, but in a moment it can […]Read more "Forbidden Fruit"
Spring arrived in the post the day I was admitted to hospital. I didn’t see it until I was lucid the next day, with tubes and needles all down my right side. Spring was bright green – so green it just sang as it sat there, and I could only look at the luminous green […]Read more "Spring arrived in the post"
January was dark. In January I spent the days looking for the light and counting the clock ticking a minute more of daylight for days on end. In January Olivia and I read Her Body and Other Parties, pulling it apart thread by thread on her bedroom floor. We marvelled at her terrifying articulation of femininity and […]Read more "My Year (in books)"
What I am reading whilst I (impatiently) wait for Ali Smith’s Spring (because we’re not even at the solstice yet), a list: The Wasteland by T.S. Eliot: is there a more iconic first line in poetry? April is the cruellest month. But is it? A month of riotous greens and pinks that shines light on just how […]Read more "Waiting for Spring"
I saw Call Me By Your Name twice. Once, after work in a near empty cinema with a bag of caramel popcorn and no knowledge of what I was about to see. I cycled home in the rain, buoyed by the heady images of an Italian summer: arts and classics and introspection and lust and swimming and […]Read more "Books to read after watching Call Me By Your Name"
Wakefulness, darkness that comes with the inability to sleep, “the silent realms” (as Virginia Woolf calls it). Insomnia. A romp through literature, culture, and her own bed, Marina Benjamin’s memoir Insomnia found me in the deep hours of the night, plagued by the pursuit of sleep. Not chronic insomnia, that awful mistress that so many suffer from, […]Read more "The Silent Realms"