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Reading ‘The Woman Who Stole My Life’ in Mogadishu

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The book: The Woman Who Stole My Life, Marian Keyes

The place: Mogadishu

In the immortal words of the Mother Superior in The Sound of Music: “read … every … genre!” And I am trying. In my early twenties I went through a phase of reading … not a lot of chicklit, in the great scheme of things, but significantly more than I do now, because I was A Young Woman In A Big City and … it spoke to me? Well no, not really, it didn’t, but there was a familiarity about it that I quite liked. But then the older I got, the more irked I became about the way the majority of chicklit reinforces pernicious and often damaging ideas about femininity and a great deal of it is formulaic and just not very good. But even now, many years later, I remain devoted to Marian Keyes, and indeed preordered this so that it would be beamed by magic to my Kindle the day it was released.

Oh, Marian Keyes. She is very close to the top of my (mercifully only mental) list of authors I would like to have a drink with (or, in her case, possibly not a drink as I believe she’s in recovery – but perhaps a cup of tea and an enormous cake?). Partly because she is hilarious, but more because she seems to have great feeling and fondness for people. I like that in a writer (and also in a person). Plus she’s not afraid to tackle very dark and difficult issues – see This Charming Man, much of which is properly chilling and certainly transcends most people’s ideas of what chicklit is. Her books are among the very few I tend to reread, to the extent that they act in an almost sedative way, I’m so familiar with them.


Written by Jess

November 8, 2014 at 7:30 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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