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A review by archytas
Body Friend by Katherine Brabon
challenging
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.5
"With others, we become alternative versions of ourselves. We become so many people when we walk out the door, when we face the street and see our friends and talk to strangers and colleagues and speak to our loved ones and then again when we lie down at night. I am all of them. And this has always been the difficulty."
This book won me over gradually. At first, it appears wholly too much on the nose. Our unnamed protagonist, following a joint replacement which eases her pain but does not cure her condition, meets two women uncannily like her, who have diametrically opposed ways of responding to chronic pain. Frida (yes, really) pushes our protagonist relentlessly into the stimulation of water exercise, pushing her to embrace her body and build its strength. Sylvia (yep, Plath quotes abound) encourages her to endless retreat and rest. Even our protagonist is unsure these women are real, we care less. Since they are metaphorical in some sense, our protagonist's unease is just about how metaphorical she is.
However, as the story and the writing progressed, I found myself drawn in. Not by the story, which is skeletal, but because Brabon has such resonant explorations within this obvious construct. She explores the tensions between activity and repose, courage and safety, stimulation and reflection. She also covers the ineffable experience of simply being in pain, despite whatever you do, and the complexity of human response to not being in control.
But it is her gentle exploration of the ways in which we lose ourselves to others that is the most unexpected. The woman tries to be what Frida and Sylvia want her to be, but also what her partner, colleagues and family want from her. She is attracted to others because she wants to be them, or like them. She struggles to assert herself in ways that are not refusal and even to understand herself. The closer the friendship, the harder it becomes to draw the lines. This is subtly shaded by the competitiveness she also feels with others close to her. This is very human and is celebrated just as its limitations are explored.
It seems inevitable that the book will conclude with an epiphany that both Sylvia and Frida are necessary. Brabon, however, calls us out on that assumption at the perfect point in the unfurling/unravelling, firmly centring the book as one which explores, not judges or summarises: "such formulations would have felt like an intolerable violence to me, a piercing and pinning down of story and logic, narrative and symbolism when none of it resembled what it felt like."
This book won me over gradually. At first, it appears wholly too much on the nose. Our unnamed protagonist, following a joint replacement which eases her pain but does not cure her condition, meets two women uncannily like her, who have diametrically opposed ways of responding to chronic pain. Frida (yes, really) pushes our protagonist relentlessly into the stimulation of water exercise, pushing her to embrace her body and build its strength. Sylvia (yep, Plath quotes abound) encourages her to endless retreat and rest. Even our protagonist is unsure these women are real, we care less. Since they are metaphorical in some sense, our protagonist's unease is just about how metaphorical she is.
However, as the story and the writing progressed, I found myself drawn in. Not by the story, which is skeletal, but because Brabon has such resonant explorations within this obvious construct. She explores the tensions between activity and repose, courage and safety, stimulation and reflection. She also covers the ineffable experience of simply being in pain, despite whatever you do, and the complexity of human response to not being in control.
But it is her gentle exploration of the ways in which we lose ourselves to others that is the most unexpected. The woman tries to be what Frida and Sylvia want her to be, but also what her partner, colleagues and family want from her. She is attracted to others because she wants to be them, or like them. She struggles to assert herself in ways that are not refusal and even to understand herself. The closer the friendship, the harder it becomes to draw the lines. This is subtly shaded by the competitiveness she also feels with others close to her. This is very human and is celebrated just as its limitations are explored.
It seems inevitable that the book will conclude with an epiphany that both Sylvia and Frida are necessary. Brabon, however, calls us out on that assumption at the perfect point in the unfurling/unravelling, firmly centring the book as one which explores, not judges or summarises: "such formulations would have felt like an intolerable violence to me, a piercing and pinning down of story and logic, narrative and symbolism when none of it resembled what it felt like."