"I am surprised by how soothing it felt, and how safe. There were no shadows, no sense of animation, and ironically, nothing for my imagination to take hold of and interpret [...] To me, it felt dead, comfortably untextured like a thick, warm, enveloping blanket thrown over the eyes."
What a stunning novel; Arifa Akbar captures the beauty, threat, surrealism, and magic of the night and presents it in a form that is easily devoured. Her personal dialogue backed up by scientific research, studies, and observations, makes it informative yet balanced - at no point did it feel like a scientific slog. Akbar's novel is precise, even throughout the wide range of topics covered, such as sleep deprivation, female homelessness, sleep paralysis, sex workers, Berlin nightclubs, and Jack the Ripper, she always intricitaley weaves in the core of the book: the dark.
I was captivated instantly by the novel's first look at sleep deprivation, whether through night shift work or sleep paralysis. Akbar discusses the effect of shift work on Alzheimers, relating to her father, as well as bringing in her own experience as a theatre critic watching 24-hour plays. She references sleep as "a winged creature of jet black feathers and shining, I inscrutable eyes that were hard as zirconia." She effortlessly personifies a psychological happening, much like Porter does in Grief is the Thing With Feathers. The scientific studies that she credits read like creative writing so that it becomes reachable, educational but not intimidating or over saturated with facts.
The hook of the novel for a lot of readers will be that not only is Akbar delving into an unknown world of nighttime, but specifically how women's relationships with it have evolved and what it means to be a woman in the dark. In a time where novels like this are flourishing (How Women Listen by Alice Vincent, and Why Women Walk by Annabel Abbs) Akbar presents this one with grit; she pulls on vast elements of women's relationships with art, society, murder, men and each other, to add charisma to a wildly different perspective of a novel. How the author maintains engagement with readers in such a wide range of topics is a true skill.
This is a modern novel where Akbar faces the hard truths about our current society where women are afraid to go outside alone at night: "The city's back streets [...] are not filled with the fantastical monsters I have grown up hearing about in folk tales, [...] but the very real hazard of murderously angry men." She likens this to Dracula, wondering if the fear of these "imaginary, diabolical creatures feeding off the blood of women in this case - are not as far-fetched as they seem, but are warnings of what reality might hold." Akbar delves deeper into the psyche mirroring this with Jack the Ripper, wondering if his 'viscous eviserations' were, in fact, an "expression of self-loathing too? An unconscious desire to crush the organs that had given birth to him?" The jump from sleep paralysis to Jack the Ripper reawoke a freshness within the book. So, it's not just about irrational cerebral activity? Or how the population of rough sleepers in London are primarily women? It's not just about the author's own fear of the dark? It's about so much more than that.
Akbar boldy holds women as victims, as survivors, and as individuals empowered to reclaim darkness, bringing in events from recent years like the Take Back the Night marches across Leeds. Unlike a lot of science based and factual books, I actually felt like I retained information when reading this one. I was engaged the whole way through, brought to life by new topics that weaved together effectively. It could very easily have been too much information or jumped too broadly between sex work and the six month darkness in Svalbard, but Akbar arranged it beautifully. She provides depth into each topic, without rushing, and makes each point relevant.
Akbar personifies darkness and the various holds it has on us as individuals and as a society. She says that our fears are born of "suggestive shadows and glooming light," that it's not about what lurks within the darkness but about having to confront it. The darkness represents the parts of our own minds that we don't wish to address. After flexing the reader's mind to reconsider what they thought they knew about the moon and women's sleep cycles, or the calls of particular birds at night, Akbar draws us to the conclusion that we can look to the darkness for protection, for comfort and safety; we just need to rephrase the way we see it.
"Keep walking into darkness, I tell myself. The city is still mine."