Literary Wives Club: Euphoria by Elin Cullhed

There is so much to Elin Cullhed’s Euphoria, I hardly know where to begin. Perhaps an appropriate starting point is that I found this novel wholly absorbing.

Euphoria is an account of Sylvia Plath’s final year, marked by significant events – the birth of her second child, Nick; the publication of her first novel, The Bell Jar; and the unraveling of her marriage to Ted Hughes.

It’s gutsy, isn’t it, to write a novel about the pleasure and pain of love from the first-person perspective of Plath, when Plath herself offered exactly that through her writing? And yet, Cullhed achieves something special here. As Plath ‘describes’ her domestic life (baking, gardening, beekeeping, entertaining) with Hughes and the children on their property in Devon, the reader is given access to her increasingly anguished thoughts – pain, uncertainty and doubt invade even the most ordinary moments. Continue reading →

Unquiet by Linn Ullmann

I reflected on the importance of place in terms of how we remember people when I was reading Linn Ullmann’s meditative work of autofiction, Unquiet.

Before I get to place (and grief), I will mention that it’s impossible to sort memoir from fiction in Unquiet. The protagonist is the daughter of a renowned Swedish filmmaker, by the actress he directed and once loved. Each summer of her childhood, the daughter visits the father at his remote Fårö island home, where she spends time with him and her eight half-siblings (her father had five marriages, but never married the protaganist’s mother).

The girl, like most children, enjoyed making lists and keeping count, and if anyone asked her about her father she could have said: My father has four houses, two cars, five wives, one swimming pool, nine children, and one cinema. Continue reading →

Things That Are Making Me Happy This Week

01.Obviously Sinéad O’Connor’s death does not fit with the title of this post, but I’m using this space to remember her.

Sinéad’s music was a big part of my youth, and her bravery and defiance was remarkable to 19yo me. Her incredible memoir, Rememberings, revealed another side to her anguish, and I read that book through tears and laughter (she had a wicked sense of humour). I hope she has found her peace. Continue reading →