In Defence of the Act (2023)
Why this one?
I’m reading selected entries from the 2024 Women’s Prize Longlist. The subject matter intrigued me with this one.
Effie Black is a debut novelist, based in London, about whom there is so far relatively little biographical info available online. We know that she comes from a ‘scientific background’ (having studied and worked in molecular biology) and ‘enjoys writing from a queer perspective’, both of which are evident from her debut. She has previously published short stories via epoque press’ e-zine and in Litro magazine.
Thoughts, etc.
NB: Major trigger warning re: suicide.
In Defence of the Act is told from the perspective of Jessica Miller, who is fascinated by the subject of suicide. She works in a lab which investigates suicide in animals, among colleagues she is sure have taken on that particular role with the view that their research will help understand and therefore prevent suicide in humans. Secretly, though, Jessica believes suicide may be - in some cases - a justified ‘act’ and even one which could be considered altruistic, or at least to the benefit of those who surround them. The roots of her unusual perspective are clearly in an incident in her childhood, in which she alerted her family to her father’s suicide attempt, therefore preventing it. He then went on to be consistently abusive, primarily to Jessica and her mother.
Through the book, she tells several other stories of suicides that could (relatively) reasonably be regarded as having had some benefit to others. Alongside her lab animals, there are two significant human examples, both of people close to her - one who turned out to be an objectively ‘bad’ person whose absence Jessica muses may have spared others around him from direct harm; another is a more ambiguous figure but one whose ongping self-harm was seen by Jessica as destructive to those around her, especially her partner. It’s impossible to go into much detail without wild spoilers, but an event happens even closer to home that causes Jessica to seriously question these previously strongly (albeit secretly) held beliefs.
The premise of Black’s debut novel is undeniably provocative, and it goes without saying that it will be a book to be avoided for many readers. It’s a book that is potentially triggering throughout, both in the bare facts of the narrative and especially, and more unusually, in the perspective taken by its lead character. Much of this is sensibly trailed in the book’s publicity and blurb - you’ll know if it’s not for you in advance, I think. For me, the proposition was an intriguing one because I’m a huge fan of anything purposefully contrarian and exploratory of ideas that run counter to convention. It was the first book I ordered from this year’s Women’s Prize Longlist, but a touch of trepidation meant I ended up reading others first.
Oddly, it’s not as a dark a book as its subject matter would suggest. Of course, it deals with some of the darkest possible themes. But it tackles them head on, in an almost confessional narrative that is told from a position of future knowledge that isn’t revealed, but gives the narrator an interesting perspective on her own controversial opinions. She’s aware of their unpopularity, and - by the time of her writing - aware that she might be wrong. This perspective allows her position to feel more balanced that it might have otherwise, and certainly not a confident statement of ‘truth’. Jessica is an engaging and endearing narrator, who has gone through a lot of bad stuff but retained a lot of warmth and a caring spirit towards those around her. She’s also self-effacing in a way that lends a surprisingly warm humour to the book. Its central subject may be deep and dark, but the book is equally strong on the silly quirks of everyday life, from its ‘resilience training’ introduction onwards. The section in which Jessica’s book club dissect an unnamed book that deals with suicide (that is very obviously A Little Life) is more darkly funny in the context of Jessica’s hidden thoughts on the subject.
Overall it’s a book that really thrilled me with its boldness and honesty. In Jessica we have a fundamentally nice and likeable character who opens up about her embracing of a somewhat unpopular opinion. It works because her gravitation towards this belief is not gratuitous but actually remarkably well explained by her own personal experiences. I was somewhat disappointed with the ending on initial reading as it seemed to back away (understandably but still somewhat abruptly) from the book’s unique angle on life (and death). There’s an argument that where it lands is in a much more conventional place, in which a disruptive voice is silenced and more reassuring and familiar tropes return (what makes life ultimately worth living, etc.) I think to some extent that remains an issue, and one that slightly dented my overall score. But really - leaving aside my personal disappointment - it’s a very honest-feeling ending, that is true to Jessica’s spirit of scientific exploration throughout. New evidence arises, and it calls her to question her previously held hypothesis. It’s a very fair conclusion for her character, and one which ultimately softens the tone of the book in a way that I think many others (if they make it that far) will find quite satisfying.
Score
9
This really is a great debut, and one that I’m very thankful for the always-interesting Women’s Prize for introducing me to. It’s not quite perfection, but I read a lot of it thinking that it was very very close to being so. I’m very excited to read whatever comes next from this provocative yet accessible new writer.
Next up
More WP longlist fun, but which one I’m yet to pick!
