New Year

The year opens its legs

Alone I stand here

neither what I was

nor what I might become,

midwife and witness

to its re-birthing.

It does not nurture, this landscape

where winter light bends

to the curve of cloud and hillside.

The watery sun lacks conviction.

Nothing, indeed, is more revolting to English feelings than the spectacle of a human being obtruding on our notice his moral ulcers or scars, and tearing away that “decent drapery” which time or indulgence to human frailty may have drawn over them…

Thomas de Quincey, Confessions of an English Opium-Eater

Jenn Ashworth’s book is a stunning read, if not purely for the bravery of the concept. Written whilst recovering from life-threatening illness suffered during the birth of her second child, ‘Notes’ is part auto-biography, part dive into the stormy waters of post-traumatic stress. Yet to frame it in terms of category is to do the book down.