It’s Not Yet Dark by Simon Fitzmaurice ****
The very fact that It’s Not Yet Dark exists is phenomenal, when one thinks about it; the entirety was written using an eye computer. In his memoir, Simon Fitzmaurice charts his decline after being diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), a rare form of neurological disease, which is also known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease, and Motor Neurone Disease.
Fitzmaurice’s writing is beautiful, and he goes back and forth in time throughout, creating a wonderfully lucid, and incredibly touching reflection of a life well lived. Never does one get the impression that Fitzmaurice is pitying himself; rather, he demonstrates that he has so much to live for. It’s Not Yet Dark is heartfelt and brave, and really makes you think about what it means to be alive. A lovely, thoughtful, poignant, and achingly sad musing upon life, and how drastically it can change.
The Diaries of Sylvia Townsend Warner, edited by Claire Harman ****
“One need not write in a diary what one is to remember for ever.” (22nd September 1930)
The Diaries of Sylvia Townsend Warner, edited by Claire Harman, has been pared down from 38 distinctive diaries found after Townsend Warner’s death. I adore what I have read of Townsend Warner’s prose to date (Lolly Willowes is a firm favourite of mine), and hoped that I would feel just the same when reading about her own life.
The original diaries span a fifty-year period, beginning in 1927, and stretching to 1972; throughout, Townsend Warner unsurprisingly writes about an England which is dated and archaic, but still ultimately recognisable. Her writing is sometimes quite matter-of-fact, but at others it is beautifully poetic. It begins to almost sparkle when her enduring relationship with Valentine Ackland is at first revealed; it feels almost as though a new Townsend Warner has been revealed. She talks less about her writing than I had anticipated; she mentions her work largely in passing, and not all that often.
The Diaries of Sylvia Townsend Warner is a lovely tome to dip in and out of. Each entry is rich and deftly crafted. There is a frankness here which seems surprising when one considers the dates in which the entries were written; in the late 1920s, for instance, Townsend Warner mentions masturbating, and ‘rollicking in bed’ with her female lover, Valentine. Her diaries provide a lens into the life of a fascinating woman, who was really rather ahead of her time.