The enormity of grief is something I’ve been unpacking as I step back into therapy. I can relate to parenting myself, especially after losing my dad as a child and witnessing my mum grapple with her own challenges, and now I find myself tied up in parenting my own children before and after baby loss. There’s even this idea of mothering a child that didn’t make it, of keeping his memory alive. I was chatting with a friend yesterday about this weird and warped time I find myself in…a mix of grief and guilt but also love, love, love.
Loss is such a changeling; we'll never fully grasp it. It moves with us through all of these big life changes. For me, parenting a little boy who looks and acts like a lost sibling is a total *ride*. I find the concept of liminality really, really helpful when it comes to working through it. As in, it's ok to be in these inbetween spaces. Magic often happens there. Sending love to you, Sarah. x
This is a really fascinating read, Kirsty. How curious to come to Discomfort now with its resonant themes. It was on my list for a while and then I didn't go back to it. Perhaps because of the themes you outline. My sense is we're moving into a time culturally (we're already in it as I can see) that children are dealing with bigger realities than ever before. Kids aren't sheltered like they used to be. They might still not have the maturity to always understand some things but certainly their access to info is wildly different tha decades ago. And so I guess this will be reflected in art as in life. I'd love to see an experiment where very hybrid books are jacketed with covers for both adult and YA to see what happens. How does what we're told the genre should be actually affect our read?
I love this, Ruth. There have been a few instances of books being released with different jackets — I’ll have a look at that next week! I think they did that with The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time?
I certainly felt that the ‘maturity’ (there has to be a better word) afforded to me by experiencing grief at a crucial developmental stage affected how and what I read. I always read ‘adult’ books as a kid. It takes a lot for me to find something sad. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
As with everything I’m writing and thinking, I’m so aware this is the affect of one (albeit traumatic) event in my life. The scale of psychological disruption and trauma happening to children on a global scale right now is unbearable.
Yes, I think early traumatic events singular or multiple definitely mature you up don't they and throw you into an adult world in so many ways, in some ways too isolating you from your peers who aren't going through it. Which is why too books can be such a consolation for those people - because you are writing into an experience that only a few will understand. Which got me thinking about your intended audience in that deeper or perhaps more specific sense. When you started this were you writing for people like you were then? Did you have that specific demographic in mind? Or were you hoping from the off to shed light on this experience for all?
The tagline / pitch line in the synopsis is essentially 'this is the book I wish I'd had'. And I think - really - that's answering it. Been thinking a lot on this and I'm realising it's sitting in that crossover YA category (David Almond, Alan Garner etc etc) where bereaved teens as well as their parents would find it useful. So I'm going to stick with that *deep breath*.
P.S. Starve Acre arrived yesterday after your recommendation…
The enormity of grief is something I’ve been unpacking as I step back into therapy. I can relate to parenting myself, especially after losing my dad as a child and witnessing my mum grapple with her own challenges, and now I find myself tied up in parenting my own children before and after baby loss. There’s even this idea of mothering a child that didn’t make it, of keeping his memory alive. I was chatting with a friend yesterday about this weird and warped time I find myself in…a mix of grief and guilt but also love, love, love.
Loss is such a changeling; we'll never fully grasp it. It moves with us through all of these big life changes. For me, parenting a little boy who looks and acts like a lost sibling is a total *ride*. I find the concept of liminality really, really helpful when it comes to working through it. As in, it's ok to be in these inbetween spaces. Magic often happens there. Sending love to you, Sarah. x
This is a really fascinating read, Kirsty. How curious to come to Discomfort now with its resonant themes. It was on my list for a while and then I didn't go back to it. Perhaps because of the themes you outline. My sense is we're moving into a time culturally (we're already in it as I can see) that children are dealing with bigger realities than ever before. Kids aren't sheltered like they used to be. They might still not have the maturity to always understand some things but certainly their access to info is wildly different tha decades ago. And so I guess this will be reflected in art as in life. I'd love to see an experiment where very hybrid books are jacketed with covers for both adult and YA to see what happens. How does what we're told the genre should be actually affect our read?
I love this, Ruth. There have been a few instances of books being released with different jackets — I’ll have a look at that next week! I think they did that with The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time?
I certainly felt that the ‘maturity’ (there has to be a better word) afforded to me by experiencing grief at a crucial developmental stage affected how and what I read. I always read ‘adult’ books as a kid. It takes a lot for me to find something sad. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
As with everything I’m writing and thinking, I’m so aware this is the affect of one (albeit traumatic) event in my life. The scale of psychological disruption and trauma happening to children on a global scale right now is unbearable.
Yes, I think early traumatic events singular or multiple definitely mature you up don't they and throw you into an adult world in so many ways, in some ways too isolating you from your peers who aren't going through it. Which is why too books can be such a consolation for those people - because you are writing into an experience that only a few will understand. Which got me thinking about your intended audience in that deeper or perhaps more specific sense. When you started this were you writing for people like you were then? Did you have that specific demographic in mind? Or were you hoping from the off to shed light on this experience for all?
The tagline / pitch line in the synopsis is essentially 'this is the book I wish I'd had'. And I think - really - that's answering it. Been thinking a lot on this and I'm realising it's sitting in that crossover YA category (David Almond, Alan Garner etc etc) where bereaved teens as well as their parents would find it useful. So I'm going to stick with that *deep breath*.
I have a sense of rightness about this when you talk about it :)