Scan barcode
A review by erinhanx
Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead by Emily Austin
5.0
"...I keep noticing so many people aren't happy, and it's been making me feel sick. I keep looking at everyone and thinking, Oh my God, I just want them to smile. I keep staring at people's mouths. Do you know what I mean? I keep thinking, Oh my God, I just wish you were smiling—"
Rosemary nods. "Yes, I have thought about that too.” She looks at my mouth. "Now, do you ever think about how people might wish that for you?"
--
There are some books that I'm pretty sure wouldn't have understood if I'd read them at any other age. This is one of those books.
At 23, I would have found it too morbid; at 33, I imagine I'd be shouting into the pages for Gilda to get a grip. But at 27 - the same age as the protagonist - I feel like I picked this book up at the perfect time in my life.
Even if you're not anxious about death as intensely and consumingly as Gilda, if you're in your mid-late 20's I really recommend reading this. Emily Austin really captures and amplifies (key word!) the very specific existential feelings of this period in your life, when your prefrontal cortex has come in like a painful wisdom tooth.
You're not in your prime yet, yet you feel like you've surpassed it.
You can't drink as much as you used to, your back starts to hurt, and you realise you have a finite amount of time to do everything you want to.
You've witnessed more death and grief, but also more love and friendship and the many variations of people.
You start to question how your upbringing and experiences have shaped who you are. You start to recognise the same in others, and how it's impossible for everyone to feel the same way about everything.
It becomes easier to avoid responding to texts, because expressing yourself in a short yet permanent message is hard.
You want to respond "Everything is weird and scary and exciting all at once. I just wanted to let you know that I see you. I love you. I'm proud of you. Life with a brain is hard and you're doing great. We're very different people, but I hope you see how much I'm trying too."
But instead you settle for "I'm fine thanks how are you?"
Your identity is written and re-written a million times a day. It's simultaneously beautiful and painful and terrifying.
Plates pile up in the sink.
--
*I wanted to give this 4.5 stars as the writing is clunky, in parts, but Goodreads doesn't let you do that and rounding down felt unfair, so 5 stars it is!
Rosemary nods. "Yes, I have thought about that too.” She looks at my mouth. "Now, do you ever think about how people might wish that for you?"
--
There are some books that I'm pretty sure wouldn't have understood if I'd read them at any other age. This is one of those books.
At 23, I would have found it too morbid; at 33, I imagine I'd be shouting into the pages for Gilda to get a grip. But at 27 - the same age as the protagonist - I feel like I picked this book up at the perfect time in my life.
Even if you're not anxious about death as intensely and consumingly as Gilda, if you're in your mid-late 20's I really recommend reading this. Emily Austin really captures and amplifies (key word!) the very specific existential feelings of this period in your life, when your prefrontal cortex has come in like a painful wisdom tooth.
You're not in your prime yet, yet you feel like you've surpassed it.
You can't drink as much as you used to, your back starts to hurt, and you realise you have a finite amount of time to do everything you want to.
You've witnessed more death and grief, but also more love and friendship and the many variations of people.
You start to question how your upbringing and experiences have shaped who you are. You start to recognise the same in others, and how it's impossible for everyone to feel the same way about everything.
It becomes easier to avoid responding to texts, because expressing yourself in a short yet permanent message is hard.
You want to respond "Everything is weird and scary and exciting all at once. I just wanted to let you know that I see you. I love you. I'm proud of you. Life with a brain is hard and you're doing great. We're very different people, but I hope you see how much I'm trying too."
But instead you settle for "I'm fine thanks how are you?"
Your identity is written and re-written a million times a day. It's simultaneously beautiful and painful and terrifying.
Plates pile up in the sink.
--
*I wanted to give this 4.5 stars as the writing is clunky, in parts, but Goodreads doesn't let you do that and rounding down felt unfair, so 5 stars it is!