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176 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2014
It is strange how often we long for life to move forward: I just have to get through this, we think, as though the past, with all its fears and fuck-ups and anxieties, can be completely left behind, neat, contained, never spilling over the line we imagine is waiting for us. And yet the past is always there, hovering at the edge, teasing us, reappearing when we least expect it, and then sliding away again, where it waits, the warmth of its breath reminding us that it still lives.In the last story with its titular title, Lucy remembers being twenty three and living in a flat with her boyfriend Henry who announces to their friends that they are getting married. It's a boozy party and she flirts outrageously with Jimmy. If I sound callous, it's because I was - or at least that's how my behaviour would be interpreted now that we're all in this different land, a land in which we understand the reason behind commitment. But then we were like moths, fluttering blindly towards whatever light flickered brightest. This certainly resonated with me as I look back on my behaviour in my twenties and it makes me cringe. Blain makes me understand that I am not alone, and not a bad person, and that we were just young.