This Kind of Achingly Beautiful Writing, Cannot Spring from a Life Unencumbered by Pain.

Come and be worshipped, come and be caressed.  My Dark Vanessa, crimson-barred, my blest  My Admirable butterfly! Explain  How could you, in the gloam of Lilac Lane,  Have let uncouth, hysterical John Shade Blubber your face, and ear, and shoulder blade?

- Pale Fire, Nabokov

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I don’t even know where to begin on the review for this novel. I have sat at my laptop for the last few evenings, filled with words but unable to express them adequately. When I try to put them down, they come out jumbled and look all wrong on the page.

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This story has left me reeling, it has made me feel things, both positive and negative, it has made me want to start a narrative on its subject matter; and maybe that is the point.

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The narrator of this novel is Vanessa. In 2017 in which it is partly set, she is thirty-two. However, the most disturbing and visceral aspects of the story are told through the eyes of her fifteen-year-old self. A fifteen-year-old who is in a relationship with her 42-year-old teacher.

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I wasn’t prepared. I could never have been prepared for this. Russell poses this as a love story, not intentionally, but through the innocent and naïve eyes of a young girl who is obsessed with the attention of an older man.

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Vanessa is a loner. She is bright. She is innocent. For the outside observer she is the obvious prey of a paedophile. Her grooming by Jacob Strane, her English professor, is steeped in manipulation. His narrative is one of the best written ‘manipulators’ I have ever seen in print. His gaslighting of Vanessa is a perfect depiction of narcissistic manoeuvring.

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We, as the reader, are acutely aware of what is happening. The mounting tension, the small compliments, the ‘accidental’ touches, all the leading to the conclusion we knew was coming, but no one wanted.

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I found parts of the abuse narrative excruciating. The sex scenes in particular – hard to bear. What is un-believable in all of this, is that Vanessa, in both her younger and older forms is completely oblivious to the abuse she is encountering. She sees it as love, as addiction, as trust. In their first intimate scene, Strane buys Vanessa some strawberry print pyjamas. The reader can only see this as infantilising, Vanessa only thinks of how awkward he would have felt in the store purchasing them.

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Nabokov’s ‘Lolita’ is referenced throughout the novel. Vanessa herself, seemingly obsessed. To the point of confusing parts of the story with her own narrative.

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At points in the story, I wanted to scream out in frustration. At her inability to see what has happened to her. To ensue in her the hatred that I felt toward Strane. But that is often the true reality of these situations, Stockholm Syndrome in its truest form.

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Strane is obviously only attracted to Vanessa in her younger years. As she grows older, he loses interest. On the outside, it is easy to see why. To her it feels like rejection and heartbreak.

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This story is what I believe to be a true reflection on the marks abuse can leave on humans. On how manipulation can be viewed as love in eyes of its young, and sometimes, older victims.

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This novel has changed me. It moved me. It made me want to believe that Vanessa found a happy life in suburbs with her dog and a man who loves, truly, loves her. However, as with many of these stories, that’s probably is a little too much to wish for.

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This is a debut for Russell, and my god, it’s exquisite. If this is the first she has to offer, what a powerhouse she may inevitably become. I do not dare to enter the mind of the person who thought up this prose. This kind of achingly beautiful writing, however disturbing, cannot spring from a life unencumbered by pain.

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Sometimes we have to be shown the very worst of what a life can offer, before we can ever appreciate anything that we find in the light.

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Bravo Russell. Bravo.

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Katie D x