This book had some uneven qualities for me, but it turned out to be a surprisingly apt seasonal read, blending humour with a creeping darkness.
On one hand, parts of it felt a little bit “magical” in the level of privilege and lifestyle depicted. Big houses in Mayfair, free flats in Paris… Of course, fiction doesn’t need to dwell on the economics of every detail, but the wealth and ease took me out of the story.
That said, Sorrow and Bliss also explores something often done clumsily in fiction: mental illness in relationships. The novel doesn’t offer a neat, clear-cut diagnosis, but it stays rooted in the lived experience of the protagonist.
It was compelling and touching, and honestly, refreshing to see mental health portrayed with this level of nuance. I read this during a busy week, and it offered a kind of engaging escapism.
It’s really a book about relationships: charting one woman’s journey from childhood to adulthood, through marriages, decisions, regrets, and failures. Motherhood and mental health are deeply interwoven here, and the way the book explores how they affect each other was especially poignant. I think it is very relatable how things in life only really become clear in the rear-view mirror.
There are some memorable side characters, moving moments, and thoughtful examinations of grief and trauma in a family impacted by mental health.
One word: sorrowful.
Leave a Comment