Her 37th Year: An Index

by Suzanne Scanlon

HER 37TH YEAR, AN INDEX is the story of a year in one woman's life. Structured as an index, the work is a collage of excerpted conversations, letters, quotations, moments, and dreams. An exploration of longing and desire, the story follows a moment of crisis in a marriage and in the life of a woman who remains haunted by an unassimilable past. Allan Gurganus called an early version of the work a "thoroughly engrossing almanac of desire" when it was published by The Iowa Review.

Genres: Fiction, Poetry, Contemporary, Literary Fiction, Womens, Literature, Novels

168 pages, Paperback

First published March 15, 2015

About the author

Suzanne Scanlon is the author of two works of fiction, the critically acclaimed Promising Young Women (Dorothy 2012) and the experimental novel Her 37th Year, An Index (Noemi 2015). Her first work of nonfiction, Committed: On Meaning and Madwomen, is forthcoming from Vintage and John Murray in the UK. Scanlon has taught at conferences and colleges nationwide; and has been awarded fellowships from the Virginia Center for Creative Arts, Ox-Bow Artists Residency, and the Ragdale Foundation. She is the recipient of an MFA from Northwestern University and teaches creative writing at Northwestern and the School of the Art Institute Chicago. Her essays and fiction have appeared in Granta, Fence, Harper’s Bazaar, the Iowa Review, The Los Angeles Review of Books, Electric Literature, and elsewhere. Her work has been anthologized and translated into many languages. For years, she reviewed theater for Time Out and the Chicago Reader.

Reviews

[Jessica · Rating 5 out of 5]

I feel like Suzanne Scanlon writes just for me. I could not wait to read this after reading Promising Young Women and it was super magic. Full of thought-provoking, brave and emotional snippets from a woman's life, she really gets inside you.

[Adam · Rating 4 out of 5]

Imagine if High Fidelity had actually told Rob's story through his autobiographical record collection. That's sort of like what's going on in this book. Sort of.

[Kathleen · Rating 4 out of 5]

My review which appeared in the Chicago Tribune:

On the final two pages of her lyrical and slim — but far from slight — semi-autobiographical novella, "Her 37th Year, An Index," Suzanne Scanlon acknowledges no fewer than 48 "other writers and texts I've copied, (mis)quoted, reformulated, or otherwise invoked in the creation of this book." This list ranges from Virginia Woolf's "Mrs. Dalloway" to Claudia Rankine's "Don't Let Me Be Lonely," from Hélène Cixous' "Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing" to "Blake Butler on Facebook."

As in similarly unconventional novels such as Jenny Offill's "Dept. of Speculation," the book's frequent reference to other works is integral to Scanlon's creation of its protagonist, a highly educated, mentally and emotionally voracious woman entering middle age and compelled by desire, highly aware of the fact that all "knowledge is constructed." So, too, do its frequent citations add to what its publisher, Noemi Press (which has done a truly beautiful job in the book's production), calls "a collage of excerpted conversations, letters, quotations, moments, and dreams."

Any time a work of art takes a form that announces itself to be different than the form its audience might expect, that audience is going to be asking itself — consciously or unconsciously — why is the art doing this? In Scanlon's case, the obvious questions to ponder are: Why an index? And why a collage?

One of the many brilliant aspects of this book is that the form permits Scanlon to offer a built-in answer. For an index is a guide, an imposition of a pattern on something that does not necessarily suggest that pattern, in this case, the life of Scanlon's protagonist, who is attempting to catalog her life so far: attending university, being in a mental institution, having affairs, getting married, giving birth to a child and so on. This structure lets Scanlon capitalize on the by-turns fun, wry and melancholy juxtapositions of entries in an index due to the happy accidents of alphabetical order. In this way, she emphasizes how such indices can lead to inadvertent insights merely by letting a reader see one alphabetical name or phrase preceding or following another.

Of course, here, unlike in a real index in which these juxtapositions are arbitrary, Scanlon makes these inadvertent insights intentional, putting, for instance "Email," "Emptiness" and "Encarnacion Bail Romero" all in a row. This index is not an adjunct to the text, but is the text.

While the alphabet provides the order, Scanlon chooses what to put in that order, as when, under "K" she has the author "Kraus, Chris" appear and explain a bit about Scanlon's own choices: "There is no problem with female confession providing it is made within a repentant therapeutic narrative. But to examine things coolly, to thrust experience out of one's own brain and put it on the table, is still too confrontational."

Scanlon's first book, "Promising Young Women," also avoided the rules of conventional realism, wisely opting instead for fragmentary tales to present its subject matter: a young woman in and out of psychiatric institutions.

In early April, the art critic and professional aesthetic provocateur Dave Hickey posted on Facebook: "I think we have reached (the) point where all those genres designed to hide your technical incompetence — collage, assemblage, installation — now do nothing else. All these genres are detritus of the industrial age, which is over."

He was speaking of visual art, but it's interesting to think of how, or if, this assertion applies across genres. Often, if an author is doing a pastiche, uncharitable readers might take it as a gimmick or a move to cover up failure, as if the author couldn't just write a "traditional novel," whatever that means. But in the end, collage, like anything else, can be done well or poorly, and Scanlon does pastiche remarkably well.

Her complex structure allows this book's layers and textures to happen simultaneously, and to comment on themselves as they are happening. It shows that experience itself can be like a collage: not neatly linear, but full of overlaps and ragged edges.

[Jerrod · Rating 5 out of 5]

How to account for lives lived in search and want for nothing, that is everything, which cannot be had. This is the central concern of this melancholic and wry catalogue ("an index") of questions, notations, digressions, letters, memories, and moments. Like the work of Edouard Leve, here Scanlon uses language to explore negative space, the things that cannot be put to the page the things that cannot be subjected to language, and yet tragically--and thus beautifully--we try. She explores how all of this revolves around the possession of bodies and how the challenges presented by our pursuit of oblivion are mapped to our sexual and emotional psyches. There is also careful and personal employment of intertexting, and it becomes clear that this book is a fragile membrane to contain a center that will not hold. There is in us a desire to go mad, to seize upon a sublime madness, because we can see a tantalizing freedom in submission to this. But we also recognize that there is a truth outside it. And our lives, thus, mostly exist in the liminal place between. Caught between desire and death.

[Lindsey · Rating 4 out of 5]

As soon as I finished I started all over again. Her 37th Year is not written in a standard format, which might normally be a cause for concern. I despise gimmicks in literature. They have a tendency to be contrived and silly, ridiculous where they are meant to convey depth of feeling. However, Suzanne Scanlon's book feels more Barthes-esque, in the best possible way. Instead of a chronological narrative the reader is presented with bite-sized insights into a woman's life. But don't make the mistake of thinking bite-sized means superficial. This book will likely be one that I re-visit often throughout my life. Beautiful.

I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

[Melissa · Rating 4 out of 5]

"And now, how will I fit into my bourgeois life?"

Reminiscent of Maggie Nelson, of Jenny Offill, at first I wearied of the style, all the pieces and bits, anecdotes, but eventually it didn't matter because this book so moved me. The idea of loneliness within one's own family, of making sense of how women's perception of self is fraught, of motherhood, teaching, teachers, lovers. Many great lines, wisdom and recognition.

"In my New York (of the nineties) I walked freely, broke, sad, tired. Now if you have a certain openness, a vulnerability -- a man will ask: "Why so sad?" Or, lost in thought, you will hear a voice behind you: "Smile!" "

[Shelley Diamond · Rating 1 out of 5]

The premise for this book sounded appealing to me. Alas, this woman's 37th year is not worthy of being the subject of a book. She comes across as having no sense of her own self. She quotes authors, talks about attaching herself to men who could "tell me what to do and what not to do", and moans about wanting more out of life.

I hope she finds a way to cultivate internal validation and stop being dependent on external validation. I hope she has some adult development. However, based on this book, I don't see much potential. She seems stuck and unable to grow.

[Delia Rainey · Rating 5 out of 5]

i can't believe i picked up this little book. all the books i've been reading and obsessing over all started to speak to each other. for one thing, i've just finished 'in memoriam to identity' by kathy acker, 'video green' and re-read 'i love dick' by chris kraus, and 'couer de lion' by ariana reines, and 'don't let me be lonely' by claudia rankine. i wonder if anyone will ever make a big diagram, or map, or neighborhood, where all these books live, and talk to each other, desperately. like little notes written down, and stuck on a desk for later. if this narrator is just a woman who is 37 years old, or a part of suzanne, i don't know. perhaps there's a fantasy element in labeling a very real book "fiction." there's an obsession with grief and loneliness that becomes a prized possession. the woman can't figure it out, so she has to write her life and her favorite writer's quotes into an index, alphabetical memory. wanting to be with a man outside of marriage, wanting to be with a married man, wanting to be touched. and the restrictive yet magnetic world of the classroom, and a beloved yet-unnamed famous teacher who dies by suicide. small bursts of motherhood, and an ever-stench of walking home in New York City. and dreamlike scenes of solitary women in memory, hanging in the psych ward, direct pulls from tennessee williams. there's always a humiliation of the aging woman, trying to age in a punk way. the humiliation of being left, wanting more. and here, the reclamation of the woman in longing, the desire to desire. this book is so beautifully written, and although it's pieced together where there are so many scraps and holes, you don't need to have it all figured out. ~~~"I looked to books, to the city itself, for nothing less than instruction on how to live."

[nineinchnovels · Rating 4 out of 5]

A beautiful one sitting type of book. Written in index form, it was easy to read but the substance of the book is so thought provoking. I’m not entirely sure what the plot was, but through every letter we learned bits and pieces of our protagonist messy 37th year of living in and out of New York. Definitely for the messy fem lit fic girlies.

[Jennifer · Rating 5 out of 5]

Her 37th Year (see also: Leaving, Teaching, and Love), as when she reads this index in her 38th year, on airplanes, in hotel rooms, in the sunlight of her empty home, personal belongings boxed away. She dogears pages and copies quotes into her notebook, asks the library to loan her Desire and Reborn and Gravity and Grace, tells her students about The Artist is Present. Soon, she will no longer be present in this place. She has trouble telling her students why she is leaving, wishes she had Scanlon's words with her in her little office when the question comes: "Even though much came to me in a classroom, within the academy, I long for something wild."

[Laura · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've certainly not wanted books to end before. But this is the first time I wanted to keep reading a book--just a little bit at a time--forever.

The index format made it very easy to pick up and put down, but it was far from mindless. I reread each entry multiple times, and I can imagine revisiting it regularly to mine its philosophies and allusions.

Not a book to be tucked away on a shelf, this one is staying out on display in the coffee table tradition--but in my bedroom, a more private, meditative space.

[Gus]

I went through this really quickly, but definitely need to read it more times. I think it's one of those books whose allure attracts you yet isn't really a book you should/need/want to read at that moment.

[Kate · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book had an unusual structure which intrigued me, but ultimately, it was not my cup of tea. The character's mental illness shown through and it was stressful reading at times. Some of the writing was memorable, but I was probably not the intended audience for this book.

[Jamie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I finished this book, and then I started it over again. Wow.

[Jacob Wren · Rating 5 out of 5]

Such a beautiful book.

[Tom Buchanan · Rating 5 out of 5]

A++

[archive ☄ · Rating 2 out of 5]

i wanted to love this sooo very much (index form! hyper-referential text! fragmentary narrative!) but in the end it fell totally flat for me :0( wishing i could have enjoyed it more but alas

[Ruth · Rating 4 out of 5]

Powerful writing.

[H]

"You will fall in love with his voice, which is not the body, but is a link to it" (16)

"The end is contained within the beginning" (24)

"How I lack integrity; my aura is that of someone playing dress-up" (27)

"Exhilaration, as how within a certain inspired state, every tiny thing becomes of consequence. How exhausting. Exhilarated despair. A desire for obliteration" (35)

"His suffering kept him from loving me as much as I needed to be loved, but also made me more deeply in love, such that I believed that I could feel how he suffered" (44)

"We became friends in the manner of Oscar Wilde, where friendship is more tragic than love, if only because it lasts longer" (49)

"Happiness, which the monk defined as an ability to work with what comes. Or what someone else described as the moment before you need more happiness" (54)

"This glorious, wretched club, which might have me as a member" (67)

"The willingness of someone to use her life as primary material is still deeply disturbing, and even more so if she views her own experience at some remove. There is no problem with female confession providing it is made with a repentant therapeutic narrative. But to examine things cooly, to thrust experience out of one's brain and put it on the table, is still too confrontational" (74)

"The dream: to be in the world, to be in your body" (90)

"Knowledge is constructed" (96)

"I read it in his last, unfinished book, a book saturated with crisis, as Duras' late books are saturated with alcoholism, saturated in a way that does not satisfy, only opens a space, compels a reader toward that void. But there is a truth in saturation, in excess" (100)

"Soup (see also: Duras, Marguerite): 'You can want to do nothing and then decide instead to do this: make leek broth. Between the will to do something and the will to do nothing is a thin, unchanging line: suicide' " (129)

"Timing, where, as with all else, it will return" (138)

[Ruth Marner · Rating 4 out of 5]

I like this book a lot. Anyone expecting a linear plot line will not like it, but I enjoyed it. I read it after reading Scanlon's first book. She likes to establish a narrative through fragmented pieces of memory, which, if we're being honest, is how many of us recall life. Using the alphabet as her central organizing structure, she goes through parts of her life. I would recommend reading her first book before reading this one, if possible. The impressions they give create a poetic template of her memoir, which is clearly a piece of organic art.

[M. Sarki · Rating 5 out of 5]

I came to this book via Charlotte Shane's wonderful "Prostitute Laundry" in which she mentions, and quotes, Scanlon and other women writers often. Susan Sontag and Katherine Angel being two others. What attracts me to these women is their focus on sexual freedom and honest expression in our present world and time.

Please read the rest of my review here:
https://rogueliterarysociety.com/f/he...

[Jennifer · Rating 4 out of 5]

This postmodern novella in the form of an index provides a lot of food for thought. As a writer and teacher, Scanlon's experience resonates with me, and the multiple references to other authors and works open up a suggested reading list.

[Katie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Super interesting structure. I was happily surprised at how well this worked to tell a story. Very inventive & rich with meaning. I loved how referential this was, meaning it gave me a ton of other works to check out. Definitely a book I'll return to.

[Jean Carlton · Rating 3 out of 5]

Experimental formats usually annoy me. Somehow, they feel contrived even though I try to be open-minded enough to appreciate creative endeavors. This one drew me in. At 58 pages in e-format you can easily read it through a couple of times to let it sink in.
I will check out her other titles.

[Lina Palm · Rating 3 out of 5]

Insiktsfullt, slagkraftigt, humoristiskt. Jag gillar greppet med att dela upp händelserna som i en ordbok med förklaringar.

[Amanda Dee · Rating 3 out of 5]

desire, lack, love, (in)sanity, maternity(fear), literature, art. a repository of a woman’s life. pick it up, follow it, wherever it takes you.

[Pilar Wyman · Rating 3 out of 5]

A decent enough exploration of index format. Sad and self-indulgent, beyond that I recommend this title only for those who are interested in indexes and their applications.

[Abbey · Rating 5 out of 5]

You ever find the perfect book at the perfect time?

[Amanda · Rating 2 out of 5]

Better in theory than execution in my opinion. Likely much better if you have a better background knowledge of feminist writers than I do.

[mer ☾ · Rating 2 out of 5]

Really liked her other books (committed is one of my all time favorites) but this one just did not hit for me