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Before I kick off the first book club post of 2019 I want to take a moment to appreciate the wonders of reading. I’ve read almost half as many books in the first two months of this year as I did all of last year. That’s in part because I’ve been experimenting with how and when I read, but it’s also in part because I’ve realised I really want to embrace the power, and the joy, of reading again. I loved it as a child. I loved it as a student. Then I went to uni and didn’t like it quite so much. Then I seemed to lose my ability to concentrate for more than 2 minutes without scrolling. Then I got busier and busier. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get back to that childlike wonder again. In fact, I’m hoping I might be headed somewhere even better with a much bigger vocabulary and critical toolkit than I ever had aged 12.

But that’s enough of me waxing lyrical about the power of book in general. Let’s talk about one book in particular, the book that’s the focus of this month’s book club Heather Havrilesky’s What if this were enough?. Havrilesky is best known as the writer behind The Cut’s Ask Polly column which offers sage, and sometimes sharp, wisdom to the lost and confused. She turned that column into a previous, critically acclaimed collection of essays. In this new collection of 19 loosely connected essays, Havrilesky picks apart the forces in the world that make us doubt that this, and ultimately we, are enough.

I was drawn to this collection by its title and, ironically, its appearance on the social media profiles of a number of readers whose tastes I trust. Clearly my subconscious was convinced that through reading Havrilesky’s essays, this might be enough. Just one more thing, one more read, and I would be there.

I’m just going to comment on two essays in this review, the two I remember most keenly almost a month after reading the collection, to give you a feel for its content, ‘the happiest place on earth’ and ‘lost treasure’.

In ‘the happiest place on earth’ Havrilesky recalls a trip to Disneyland. She comments on the level of performance and how that performance is viewed once or twice removed through videos on phones. She dissects how Disneyland placates its visitors. She also reconfirms my strong desire never to go to Disney (sorry mouse fans).

‘Lost treasure’ is a classic “another man’s trash” story with a twist. As a child, Havrilesky visited a neighbour who collected what a young Havrilesky viewed as trash, the older woman turned into treasured sculptures. The moral to this one wasn’t just value is in the eye of the beholder, but that we might find more value in the world around us if we ever slowed down and focused enough to pick up trash to turn into art.

For this alternative cover, I wanted something that at once suggested completeness (the circular text) and not the half coloured background. I also wanted to play with the idea of being unsure if something is half full/empty

Havrilesky is clearly an incredibly skilled cultural commentator and writer. She has moments of unchecked privilege and questionable views, like the her decision to deride her friends who checked her book out of the library rather than reading it, but in my opinion she shouldn’t be written off for those flaws. We’ve all got flaws. We all need to learn to be more accepting of others, and ourselves, to accept that we’re all enough if we’re growing.

But I closed What if this were enough? feeling like it wasn’t quite enough. I wanted it to say more. The loose connection between essays left me feeling cold, I needed a conclusion, a pay off. Perhaps that’s the point. Perhaps my unquenchable desire for a “and this is what it all means” is part of the problem. I need an external force to tell me what to do next to accept I’m enough. But perhaps it’s a lack in the collection, and a number of similar essay collections, which are written as almost completely separate essays. Each essay has its own strengths and weaknesses and the collection is just a sum of these, but not more. It’s a set of columns, a stream of twitter threads, a collection not a book as a whole with a clear thread of narrative or argument.

If you’re searching for answers, this book isn’t for you. If you’re looking for a rousing conclusion to let you know you are enough, this book isn’t for you. If you want to know what a world may look like if we decided it was enough, this book isn’t for you. But if you’re looking for erudite commentary on some of the mundane and mind boggling ways we’ve convinced ourselves that this isn’t enough, I think you’ll like this one. It’ll get you thinking, it’ll get you questioning, it may even, if you’re smarter than me, lead you to finding your own conclusions.

 

SOME QUESTIONS TO PONDER AS YOU READ…

  • Are there any essays that stand out to you on a personal level?
  • What conclusions are you able to draw from the essays as a collection? How does being placed next to one another change the meaning of the essays?
  • Did the collection change anything about how you view your own life?
  • If you were to include your own personal anecdote about being enough, or not, what would you include?

IF YOU WANT SOME FURTHER READING TRY…

  • In this review for The Bustle, Sadie Trombetta reflects on how Havrilesky’s essays made her think about what it means to ‘disconnect’
  • This Kirkus review concludes the collection is fun, often insightful read for digital fatalists.
  • Erin Keen concludes the veteran critic and beloved advice columnist’s new collection of essays is a lifeline built of the toughest love

IF YOU WANT MORE BOOKS LIKE THIS HAVE A LOOK AT…

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“I need a new tshirt” “I need a dress for the summer” “I need more jeans” “I need to invest in upgrading my wardrobe”

All of my internal dialogue about clothes last year, and the year before, and the year before that, has been based around the language of “need”. I convinced myself that new things were a necessity, that this latest item would fill the last chink in how I presented myself. There was a gap in my confidence that clothes could plug. But it wasn’t just a gap, it was a neverending vacuum.

That makes me sound like Rebecca Bloomwood from Confessions of a Shopaholic (a 2009 cinematic classic). I’m not. My wardrobe has never overflowed. My spending has always been within my means. My style isn’t exactly vogue-worthy. Yet still, at the end of 2018 I realised I always had that tickle in the back of my mind that made me want to shop.

The “need” I thought I had for new clothes had been manufactured, cheaply and recklessly (like almost all fast-fashion is) by brands who never really stopped to think about the effect of convincing everyone they are less than complete. I never really needed any new clothes, I’m not sure I have for years now – I’ve not grown since I was about 13. I have enough that I could put together an outfit for every occasion I may possibly need to put an outfit together for, unless someone wants to invite me to the Oscars.

And you know what I am enough no matter what I’m wearing. There is nothing that requires me, that truly requires me, to look a certain way. I would much rather focus on learning and having fun this year. Imagine the time I can claw back without the impulse to refresh ASOS.

So, this year I want to break the cycle. I’m not going to buy any clothes (exceptions will be made for socks) for the whole of 2019.

I know that stopping shopping isn’t going to cure years of being told that consuming more will help me be enough. But I am hoping that going cold turkey on one of the most conspicuous areas of my consumption will help me start to rewire my brain.

It’s a single clear goal with a time frame, so it should be doable.

In order to keep me even more accountable, I’ve undertaken another task that I’ve wanted to do for a long while now; I’ve drawn every item in my wardrobe. This doesn’t include pyjamas or gym wear, but these are all of my outside clothes. I want to review this giant poster of clothes again at the end of the year, to see what I wore, what still sparks joy (yes I’m embracing the KonMari method), and what, if anything, I want to add.

So this is it, everything you’ll see me wearing this year. Although, I hope if we ever meet I can prove more interesting than my clothes.

 

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Like a lot of people, the end of the year always puts me in a reflective headspace. While December 31st is a completely arbitrary moment, there’s so much around it culturally that it’s hard not to package up the last 12 months in your head and size them up.

 

I’ve done similar posts to this for the last two years, and I think they’re probably more for me than they are for any potential readers of this blog. I write them as little time capsules to look back on and to encourage me to properly take stock of the year rather than just focusing on the awkward interactions and fuck ups my mind tends to like to come back to over and over and over and over and over again.

 

So here it is, a brief look at my year in the round (a phrase I picked up from some judges this year – see the reflections have already begun).

At the end of last year I was just starting my role in Transform after a year of 3-monthly rotations. I was excited to get stuck in, to have some permanence and space for growth, to work with some people I think are pretty damn cool. Those feelings certainly haven’t gone away.

 

This year I really think I’ve grown in my role. I’ve carved out a space for myself within the work we do, focusing on research and service design. I’m working on a project, which while it’s incredibly frustrating at times, is fascinating and hugely rewarding. The frustration comes from a place of caring way too hard about what we’re trying to do, so it’s a symptom of love rather than boredom. While we’ve had some lows, we’ve also had some real successes, and I feel like I’m starting to own my role in those successes. The people around me are brilliant in their own ways and are constantly inspiring me to want to be better, and I know that I need to capitalise on that inspiration way more next year and also take time to let them know they’re what keeps me going.

 

In my non-work work I’ve done more this year than I ever have before. I think I say this every year but it’s true. I’ve had the pleasure of working with some incredible people and on some incredibly fun projects that have really pushed my work further. I’ve designed not one, not two, not three, but four podcast covers this year, which is kind of mind blowing. I’ve worked with old clients and new clients and drawn lots and lots of lovely people’s portraits. I think I’ve gotten better and I’ve started to make more of the work that makes me happy. I’ve also started to try and step up and be more professional. I know that if I want other people to take me seriously I need to do the same first.

 

Part of that work that makes me happy is still this blog. I know that I’ve taken a step back from it a little this year, starting to post twice a week instead of three times. I know that my views have almost halved, which perhaps should set off alarm bells for me. But I still love writing here and creating silly illustrations to go with those ramblings.

 

I’ve put more work into my social media and newsletter and they’re now bringing me so much joy, the newsletter in particular. It feels like a space where I can really be free and experiment with what I write and with what I draw.

 

I’m incredibly proud of what I’ve achieved this year. I’ve hit some of the big hairy financial goals I set myself. I’ve made some really great stuff, and consistently kept creating – even with the step back we’re looking at well over 100 posts this year, around 45 newsletters, and so many commissions.

 

It’s felt like sprint after sprint after sprint though, and now I’m exhausted. I’ve had so many moments of feeling burnt out this year. Every time it’s happened I’ve taken a short break but then pushed a little harder. But that’s not sustainable. Feeling weary in your bones at 25 probably isn’t healthy.

 

I need to find some balance between making myself proud and making myself happy. What I mean by that is, I need to work on nurturing those other sources of joy. The rush you get when you make something and love it is incredible, but I can’t rely on that to sustain me.

 

So, in short, 2019 was great personally (let’s ignore politically for this post) but I’m so glad that it’s time for the Christmas break now.

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Last year I made a Christmas jumper colouring sheet for this blog. This year I wanted to up my game a bit and make a much more involved colouring spread, in the form of a little wintery scene.

 

It’s something I hope makes you feel cozy inside as you shade to your heart’s content. Taking some time out of your day to just sit and focus on doing something is good for you, especially in a season when anxieties run high and plans seem to be non-stop. But don’t just take my word for it “everyone from researchers at Johns Hopkins University to the editors of Yoga Journal suggesting colouring as an alternative to meditation”.

If you want to tap into the calming power of colouring this Christmas download and print out the design below, grab whatever crayons you have to hand and get going.

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I’ve not done one of these big illustrated posts in a long while, and I fancied an excuse to just draw some portraits. I’ve done podcasts, I’ve done Christmas movies, so I thought it was about time that I illustrated some of my favourite TV characters. You all know that I’m a big rubbish TV gal so this was always going to happen

 

This is by no means an exhaustive list (seriously), rather it’s just the few characters I thought of first when considering the TV that has shaped me. That’s a lie, this list was much much much longer, but then I had to be realistic about how much time I have, so there may be a part 2 to follow!

 

They also just happen to be incredible ladies

Ziva David

Procedural dramas are a huge part of my life. That’s not an exaggeration. I grew up with NCIS. I think my mum and I started watching from the second season, so 2005, when I was 12. So I really did grow up with this show. I have to be honest and say that I don’t watch it anymore, it’s not quite the same show I started watching. But it’s safe format, great whoddunits, witty banter and genuinely interesting character (enter the kickass lady above) were a companion to me and a background to conversations with my mum for so long that it had to kick things off.

Rory Gilmore

Gilmore Girls was the show I watched (as well as House – ugh why can’t I do them all) when I came home from school and desperately needed to recharge before starting homework and whatever side creative project I had going on. As a slightly isolated nerdy girl, Rory Gilmore, despite being hugely problematic, was something of an icon for me. Plus, while we’re not quite so co-dependent, having a positive mother daughter relationship on TV, as an only child who thinks their mum is the bees knees was so good.

Jude Harrison

This one feels like a more niche selection, but bare with me. The show Instant Star (off of Canadian TV then Nickelodeon I think?) was what brought me into the world of fandoms. I think I loved the online community more than the show in the end. But the fact that it brought me to dirtylittlesecret (was anyone else on DLS? It definitely sounds shadier than it was), then LiveJournal, then Fanfiction.net and Tumblr means I will be forever grateful to Jude Harrison and her angsty teenage songs.

Emma Woodhouse

The 2009 BBC adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma is my ultimate comfort show. I must have watched it 7 or 8 times now. There’s just something about it that soothes my soul. Romola Garai and Jonny Lee Miller are wonderful and the costumes and settings are so much more vivid than your typical Austen adaptation. But when it comes down to it, I guess I’m just a sucker for a great romance.

Jessica Jones

Like procedural dramas, I have a big space in my heart for superhero shows, and the most recent batch of Netflix Marvel adaptations have been great. I definitely could have picked from at least 2 handfuls of shows, but Jessica Jones stands out as a character I love, quite simply because she’s a badass. Sometimes you need to feel a little tougher, a little bitchier, a little like you give less of a fuck and that’s when you channel Jessica Jones. She’s her own saviour and she wears the heck out of a leather jacket.