Or: Woman, 28, in ‘modern dating is awful’ shock If you’ve read Dolly Alderton’s beautiful memoir Everything I Know About Love, you’ll join me in a sharp intake of breath when I mention the ‘guru chapter’. For the uninitiated: a few years ago, Alderton conducted a phone interview with a man who billed himself as… Continue reading Flirting with writers
I am thoroughly enjoying the amount of commotion being generated by Netflix series You. Mostly because, in insufferable hipster fashion, I read the book when it came out in 2014 and was obsessed with it for a full summer. At the time, I hadn’t read anything like it – a novel about a creepy, obsessive, murderous loner… Continue reading The problem with Joe
It’s tempting to say that this year has been a write-off, a total horror-show, my own annus horribilis. And honestly, the last few months have been patchy at best. But if nothing else, I’ve at least gained some wisdom this year. Whether I’ll put it to good use is another matter entirely – but ANYWAY,… Continue reading Is it over yet?
I love writers who can articulate the magic and wonder of everyday joys. If you can capture in prose the beauty of a pale blue sky on a frosty December morning, the happiness of being licked on the face by a puppy, the sense of relief of waking up early on a Saturday and knowing… Continue reading On delight
A few weeks ago, Labour MP Jess Phillips commented that one of the ways sex education could be improved is by discussing female pleasure. “We should be telling girls about orgasms during sex education,” she said in an interview with Grazia. “I’m not suggesting we teach children how to masturbate, I’m suggesting we talk to them… Continue reading Tumblr-ing down
I recently had a conversation with an older female friend about Harvey Weinstein. “What I don’t get,” she said, “is why all the women that have made accusations in the last year or so didn’t say anything at the time”. Yes, this was recently. No, I didn’t roll my eyes and stalk off while muttering furiously to myself… Continue reading For shame
It took me two months to read At Home In The World – partly because I’ve had rather a lot on, and partly because, well, it doesn’t so much get under your skin as work its way into your blood vessels and scratch at you from the inside. Joyce Maynard was trained to write like… Continue reading Latest good stuff, November 2018