Reading list: Love in Isolation
By Sinead Overbye, 29 April 2020
Love in Isolation
The loose theme of this list is ‘love in isolation’. Some of these books are more about love. Some of them are more about isolation. Most of them, I think, cross-over between the two.
It was important for me, in my reading list, to include as many lesbian stories as possible, but not all of these novels are queer. For me, finding love stories that I relate to or find compelling is kind of difficult. With such a glut of hyper-erotic lesbian trash available on Netflix, I sometimes think, what the hell? Where am I? Am I even real?
Reading stories that I can so specifically relate back to my own experience has been some of the most powerful reading I’ve done in my life.
So, I’ve chosen books that have really spoken to me, or have somehow shaped my idea of who I am. I’ve chosen books that have entranced me, hit me in the guts, made me laugh and made me cry. Even if you don’t have the same experiences as me, I hope you find something in this list that astonishes you.
A note on getting copies of the books: I’ve added links to e-books and audio books. You can also support your local bookshop and ask them if they have a copy in stock or if they can order one in for you.
Like by Ali Smith
Ali Smith is one of the best living authors, and anything she writes is incredible (other top recommendations include Hotel World and Autumn). But if you can get hold of a copy of her debut novel Like, I’d really recommend it. Told in two halves, Like is a rich and complex tale about a love relationship that shapes the course of Amy and Ash’s lives. Both halves are so tonally distinct, and yet each piece of information we’re given about the characters, their thoughts, desires, and their past together is timed perfectly. One thing I loved about the book was that at the end I was left with more questions than answers, but not in a depressing way, it just felt realistic. Incredibly woven, and bittersweet, Like is a lesbian romance like no other.
Check out your local library: here it is at Wellington City Libraries. Or ask your local bookshop if they can sleuth you a copy.
We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson
This book is all about isolation. Mary and Constance have been self-isolating from their entire village for six years, along with their Uncle Julian who, after a dramatic event that killed the rest of their family, has ended up in a wheelchair. When a distant cousin shows up and tries to woo Constance, Mary resorts to casting spells around their property to protect them. My favourite thing about this novel is the voice. Mary is an extremely compelling narrator, and weaves her own sense of humour, logic and magic into the story she tells. Shirley Jackson is a master of writing creepy narratives with a light touch. Anyone who’s read her short story The Lottery will know how good she is at writing about freaky small towns! This book also has one of the best first paragraphs in history. If you’re not instantly hooked, I’d be surprised.
In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado
I have mixed feelings about this book, but after mulling it over for months, I think that’s a good thing. This memoir tackles the issue of lesbian domestic abuse, in a way that is thoughtful and evocative. Carmen Maria Machado’s prose isn’t for everyone, but I really love the texture of her work, and the way she evokes fairy-tales and myth to tell her story (another great example of this is in her short story The Husband Stitch). In spite of the book being almost too abstract or vague at times, In the Dream House is brilliantly researched, with some awesome experiments with form – she even writes her own a pick-a-path! I’d recommend it to anyone who wants to see what you can do with the memoir form. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but I think it’s an incredibly important book that’ll be influential to many queer people, looking for someone to tell their story.
Circe by Madeline Miller
Another isolation book, Circe is a modern-day epic, telling the story of Circe, the daughter of Helios, who is banished to the mythological island of Aeaea. Circe narrates her entire life, condensing thousands of years of human history into 384 pages. This book exploded my idea of what story can do. Sometimes I feel like novels only allow themselves room to explore one arc in a character’s life, but Circe is a life story that just keeps rolling. It allows us to see this character change, adapt, and continue living after moments of epiphany or conflict. You can tell Madeline Miller has done so much research in writing this book. It’s a very rich tale with a lot of weight to it. It also offers a fantastic form of escapism – you feel like you are right there with her, shrinking men into pigs on her island, swimming to the darkest depths of the sea. It’s a book that keeps giving. The prose shimmers on the page. Honestly. It’s just so good.
The Bone People by Keri Hulme
Another epic, and a must-have with the theme of love in isolation. Kerewin is one of my all-time favourite literary characters. I’ve been thinking about her a lot, during my isolation. One of the best moments in this book is when she first encounters the 7-year-old boy Simon, in her window, after which her life is never the same. In spite of Kerewin not wanting anyone else to alter the course of her life, she is unable to control the impact that Simon and his dad Joe have on her. Keri Hulme is a real master of evoking physical sensation, and also a sense of place. While I’ve spent very little time in Te Waipounamu, I can feel the atmosphere and sense of place in every word. The novel exists in a landscape that feels haunted. Even though Kerewin makes some pretty drastic mistakes in her life, I think it’s a testament to Hulme’s skill and bravery that we are compelled to keep reading.
Tahuri by Ngahuia Te Awekotuku
This book is everything I wish I could’ve read during my angsty teenage years, and it has stolen my gay little heart. Why didn’t anyone tell me about it when I was young! It’s a collection of short stories following a young girl named Tahuri, who is growing up takatāpui in Rotorua. Ngahuia Te Awekotuku has such a way with words, and her descriptions of lesbian desire are so on point and just… really… sexy. In many ways, it’s a coming of age story, but one of my favourite things about it is that Tahuri knows exactly what she wants, and what she will not stand for. The book provides tonal contrast between moments of despair and degradation with moments of discovery, pleasure and joy. It’s a must-have for any queer Māori. Or anyone really! If you can get your hands on a copy, I couldn’t recommend it highly enough.
Get your copy here.
The First Bad Man by Miranda July
I know this book was popular quite a few years ago, but it never gets old. If you’re looking for something strange, a book to make you question your own prejudices and also challenge your perceptions around pleasure, love and sex, then this is the book for you! Cheryl Glickman, the main character, is so super weird and lives a fairly isolated life. Her observations about the smallest of things truly earn the word ‘quirky’. When Clee, a physically intimidating younger woman moves into her house, Cheryl loses control over her personal space. And then, they somehow fall into this pattern of sex and strange domesticity that is like no other affair I’ve read of before. Miranda July’s writing is absurdist and hilarious. She also has a great reading voice, so if you’d rather listen to a book while you’re on your daily hīkoi, an audiobook version is available on Audible.
Why be happy when you could be normal? by Jeanette Winterson
This memoir, written almost thirty years after her novel Oranges are not the Only Fruit, is a poignant tale about how Winterson grew up queer in 1960s Accrington. She was brought up and raised by her adopted Pentecostal parents, whose religious beliefs led to Winterson becoming estranged from them at aged 16. She discusses her childhood, and also her life in the wake of the novel she published decades before. Being queer in a small town is represented as an extremely isolating experience, and Jeanette Winterson captures this with an upsetting honesty, but also with lightness. I found myself cracking up often at the strange conversations and hilarious quips she scatters into the book. It’s like… the original Priestdaddy, but gay. It’ll make you laugh one minute, and then it’ll punch you in the gut the next.
Listen to audiobook here, or get the e-book here. Or ask your local bookseller to order one in for you.
Faces in the Water by Janet Frame
Janet Frame is a master of writing isolation. If you’re wanting a story to accompany your lonely feelings, this is the one. Brilliantly written, with evocative and imagistic prose, this novel will bind you in its spell, and then screw with your brain – in a good way. It follows the main character, Istina Mavet, through life in two mental institutions, and is incredibly insightful and just so well written – like anything by Frame. One of the main pieces of advice I have with this novel is that you’ll probably get far more out of it when respecting Janet Frame’s own genius, and reading it as a work of fiction, rather than as a work of autobiography. She approaches everything with creativity and lucidity. Chur Janet.
Get a copy here.
Nothing to See by Pip Adam
I had to include this on my list! Which is very naughty, because the book hasn’t launched yet. But mark it in your calendar, people, the next novel from Pip Adam is on its way this June, and it is better than ever! Pip Adam absolutely crushes it with this book. She’s crushed me. I am crushed. The book follows Peggy and Greta, recovering alcoholics who are trying to make a new life after leaving rehab. But that’s such a simplistic plot summary! Anyone who’s read Pip’s Ockham Award Winning novel The New Animals will know she is an author with an incredible capacity to surprise the reader. This novel, while not for the faint-hearted, certainly provides its fair share of original twists. Peggy and Greta have been through a lot when we meet them. They go through a lot when we’re with them. But they are so endearing, that you are compelled to keep reading, wanting the absolute best for them. This book is filled with intensity and moments of panic and pain. But it is also so incredibly brave. It makes me feel brave. Which is a rare experience of reading fiction. I really recommend it to everyone.
