Salena Godden

There is a reason I characterize this as both poetry and fiction. I'll borrow from Sara Collins who described the work this way in her review in The Guardian:
The effect is to produce a collage of speech and speechlessness, a story that sometimes slips away from you even while you are reading it, becoming a memento mori in form as well as content. In other words, it’s exactly the sort of thing you expect when a poet writes a novel, and exactly the sort of thing you’ll devour if you like huge helpings of experimentation with your fiction..

Experimental, yes. I occasionally subject myself to the whimsy of algorithms and the title was captivating, so I bought it as an audiobook without reading anything about it. I had assumed it was going to be a cutesy mystery of some sort, but evidently the algorithms were feeling my one reading of Virginia Woolf's To The Lighthouse more than my plentiful cozy mysteries. From the outset, it is fairly clear this is not a standard novel. Godden is fond of litany as a poetic form, and I felt relieved I was hearing her read it, rather than reading the litanies in print myself. This is a book where it is very much an advantage to hear Godden's reading because she illuminates her own poetry in a way that few might receive it on the page.

To be fair to the algorithmic gods, it does remind me of Woolf's To the Lighthouse as there is only a modicum of actual, traditional "plot" and it is more about musings on death, and even more so, life. We don't get a tidy explanation for Wolf Willeford's mental state vis-a-vis their conversations with Mrs. Death, so the latter straddles allegorical figure and actual character. One might argue drawing conclusions about that aren't very important, but I suspect most readers will find themselves curious, although no doubt carried along by the talking desk and sessions with the therapist. There is plenty of biting social commentary, and the moments of wit pop out of a fabric that is woven from some very dark and dense cloth.

Quote: "Since you were here and sh*t, you might as well give a sh*t."

There was one sentence that I wanted to be the end of the book:
"It's a very simple question that life asks: will you walk with me?"
Godden doesn't end it there, and one can see why, but even after reading the "diary entries" that follow, it was that line that stayed with me the most. It is a helpful question--hopeful, even. But I cannot wholesale give this book a description of "hopeful." It is a longform poem (mostly) that digs into questions of gender and existence in a fresh way that is both alarming and familiar.… (more)

What is death? A better question would be, “Who is death?” Because in this novel death is a middle-aged black woman making her way in London, overlooked, unloved, and always, seemingly, present. Wolf has met her before, when he was just a child. But on that occasion she came for his mother. Amidst smoke and fire. As his mother was desperately trying to wake him up, screaming for him to run. To run! It sounds like the worst thing that could happen to a young boy, but maybe ending up with his mother’s parents was even worse. Of course eventually Mrs Death came for them too. Which was no bad thing. Wolf’s relationship with death or Death is unusual but it’s not as though any of us will be able to miss her when she comes for us.

Selena Godden creates a wonderfully sympathetic character in Wolf. But he is not merely a victim. He is also a poet and his view on life and death is singular. Do his conversations with Mrs Death take place solely within his own mind, or is she real? Both are true, perhaps. Mrs Death tells Wolf at least some of her story. The best bits being when she relates a specific death she has been party to, such as the tale of the 19th century temptress, Tilly Tuppence. Her tales and Wolf’s own progression to worsening mental health and eventual (possible) relief at writer’s retreat are interspersed with poems. These are mostly doggerel of a lyrical sort which you could imagine being set to music. It creates a bit of a hodgepodge. But a strangely compelling one.

It might not work for you. But then again, it just might.

Very gently recommended.… (more)

The title and the blurb conned me into thinking that this might be my kind of read but actually this is just a creative writing exercise trying to fill 300 pages with blank paper and - even worse - poetry. The 'disclaimer' in the introduction promises that 'This book is short because life is short' and even though I did get through the experience in an afternoon, if I had known I was in for another Midnight Library lecture on being grateful for life and doing your bit to make the world less crappy, I could have saved myself even those few brief hours.

The pretentious wankerage sets in from the start, with Mrs Death - the (female) Grim Reaper who is sharing her life story with 'troubled young writer' Wolf through the conduit of a desk - ranting that 'Death is plastic, plastic is death' and 'Life shits life! Life is life everywhere'. What does that mean? No clue, but the author was obviously keeping a close eye on the word count, filling in with four letter padding where necessary: 'Like the last fuck before they shut down the machines, like the last fuck before they drop the fucking bomb. Fuck it.'

I was tentatively hopeful when the first chapter based on one of Mrs Death's cases, the first supposed victim of a transgender Jack the Ripper, captured my imagination but then the next contribution was written like verse/full of solidus/for no reason. There are full blown TED talks on the state of the world, shoehorned into the story under the pretext of a therapy session - 'So much death and war and destruction, famine and murder ... all caused by greed and destruction' - and constant motivational soundbites like 'see the death of the demanding chubby shit you were and the birth of the kind person you will become' and - of course - be (human) kind.

Mrs Death's resume reads like a rant on Twitter, ticking all of the right boxes - fires in tower blocks, the homeless, climate change, black lives matter. Wolf has mental health issues and childhood trauma, after his mother was killed in a fire and he was sent to live with his less than open-minded grandparents who didn't want a 'Biracial, Bisexual, Bigender and Bipolar' kid living with them. I think if the author had focussed on Wolf and his dual narrative, I would have been depressed, yes, but also impressed. Making Death a 'poor old black woman' cleaning hospital floors because 'only she that is invisible can do the work of Death' was also very clever. The poetry, polemic and weird 'Wear sunscreen' introduction, however, ruined the story I thought I was getting.

This book really was not my cup of tea, and I don't think being blamed for not being a 'hero' like David Bowie or NHS workers would lift my mood if I was grieving, but obviously there are people who will hashtag this onto a bestseller list somewhere and that's great for them and the author.… (more)