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Pink Soap
Joint Winner of The Weatherglass Novella Prize, with Ali Smith.
"A classic for now as Plath’s The Bell Jar has been for the decades behind us.
This funny and terrifying novella is a study of what and how things mean, and don't, in our latest machine age. In it something unforgiveable has happened. The main character, seemingly numbed but bristling with blade-sharp understanding, is only just holding things together and trying to work out how to heal. So she travels to Japan in a search for the other half of a fragmented family. Or is it the world itself that has fragmented?
Pink Soap examines the massive everyday pressures we’re all under with real wit and style. It is pristine, brilliant, smart beyond belief."
"A classic for now as Plath’s The Bell Jar has been for the decades behind us.
This funny and terrifying novella is a study of what and how things mean, and don't, in our latest machine age. In it something unforgiveable has happened. The main character, seemingly numbed but bristling with blade-sharp understanding, is only just holding things together and trying to work out how to heal. So she travels to Japan in a search for the other half of a fragmented family. Or is it the world itself that has fragmented?
Pink Soap examines the massive everyday pressures we’re all under with real wit and style. It is pristine, brilliant, smart beyond belief."
110 pages, Paperback
Published June 10, 2026
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 40 reviews
October 17, 2026
Becoming lost in a world full of rabbit-holes
Gaston writes sparingly - Went here, slim, sly observations, left. This quiet stillness far from all the loudness that's out there is good to read. I'm not sure if it is medically induced through medication or by an inner peace fought for and obtained. What made me unsure was the speeding at the end which was a kind of an unwelcome foreboding of an oncoming mania.
Quote:
"I no longer have the stomach to study the relationship between madness and the internet."
Strange isn't it that something that's raison d'etre is connection leaves us so unconnected, unseen.
Gaston writes sparingly - Went here, slim, sly observations, left. This quiet stillness far from all the loudness that's out there is good to read. I'm not sure if it is medically induced through medication or by an inner peace fought for and obtained. What made me unsure was the speeding at the end which was a kind of an unwelcome foreboding of an oncoming mania.
Quote:
"I no longer have the stomach to study the relationship between madness and the internet."
Strange isn't it that something that's raison d'etre is connection leaves us so unconnected, unseen.
June 15, 2026
As I get off the bus, I remember my pink colouring pencil is getting short, so I make a detour to the art supply shop to procure replacements. I find my way to the relevant aisle and select five identical pink pencils. The shopkeeper wraps them lengthways in the receipt and puts them in a small brown paper bag. He asks me what I intend to use them for. I tell him that I have been intermittently sketching the same bar of soap for the past four weeks or so. I explain that the rate at which the soap shrinks is dependent on the number of showers I take. "How many showers do you think it will take for it to disappear?" he asks. I tell him it will largely depend on the weather and the balance of chemicals in my brain.
Pink Soap by Anju Gaston was the joint winner of the Weatherglass Novella Prize as chosen by Ali Smith, whose citation is below.
The novel is narrated by a woman called Anju, in the second year of a PhD where her thesis had been on the relationship between the internet and madness, specifically the experiences of mania and psychosis online.
However, recently she suffered from a manic episode with psychotic features, sending threatening emails to various of her acquaintances as well as a famous philosopher. Of those who received them, the CEO of her former firm 'was the only recipient to reply to me with anything resembling kindness on concern', but she was eventually sectioned.
The novel begins shortly after she has been discharged and is rebuilding her life and renewing her acquaintance. Although she is scared of apologising to those impacted, worried that they will not, and indeed should not, forgive her:
When I meet with the psychiatrist for the seventh or eighth time in my life, the internet connection is unstable. He begins to ask me how my mood is, before being cut off. I tell him that, for the most part, I feel both ashamed and embarrassed. I repeat this several times until the connection stabilises. Although it takes him a few attempts to get this across coherently, he tells me that a patient with a broken leg would never apologise for having a cast. I am unconvinced by the analogy. I want to ask him whether someone with a broken leg should be forgiven for attacking someone with their crutches.
One of her coping mechanisms is to sketch a bar of pink soap which she uses - see the opening quote - making thirty-seven such sketches over the course of the novel and sending them to friends and acquaintances, particularly those who visited her in hospital or sent get-well cards.
Anju is also biracial, born in Hiroshima to a Japanese father and British mother, who later became estranged from the family and as a child she moved to the UK with her mother aged around 7, not seeing her father for another 14 years thereafter, a component of her fractured identity.
I might never have realised I was biracial; the strangeness of my name is sometimes the only thing that reminds me I am not, in fact, white. An unusual name invites predictable questions. As a child, when people asked where my name was from, I would tell them I was half Japanese and draw an imaginary vertical line down the middle of my face with my index finger. Aside from these moments, I did not think about race at all during my childhood.
There were over a thousand pupils in my secondary school. As a teenager, when the girls in my class asked me why I had such dark hair, I told them it was because I was half Japanese. Stop lying, they said. You don't look Japanese at all. Prove it, they said. When my classmates told me I did not look Japanese, I felt joy.
And in the novel's second section she travels to Japan to visit her father, who doesn't speak English, a friend of his providing interpretation and also acting as a bridge in their relationship.
The narration is in short, often single-sentence, paragraphs, reflecting the narrator's attempt to piece together her life and to overcome her feelings of shame: I tell myself I cannot live my life in fear of having another episode, yet that is how I feel. [...] I feel that the latest episode wrung all the language out of my mouth [...] I feel like I will never be able to look anyone in the eye ever again.
This is a powerful piece - novella length is perfect for the intensity - and another impressive book from Weatherglass Press.
Booktube review by Bob the Bookerer
Ali Smith's citation
“I ask the internet the difference between something being too close to the bone and something being too close to home.” This funny and terrifying book is a study of what and how things mean, and don't, in our latest machine age. In it something unforgiveable has happened.
The main character, seemingly numbed but bristling with blade-sharp understanding, is only just holding things together and trying to work out how to heal. So she travels to Japan in a search for the other half of a fragmented family. Or is it the world itself that has fragmented?
Pink Soap examines the massive everyday pressures we’re all underwith real wit and style. It is pristine, brilliant, smart beyond belief. I sense it becoming as much a classic for now as Plath’s The Bell Jar has been for the decades behind us.
Pink Soap by Anju Gaston was the joint winner of the Weatherglass Novella Prize as chosen by Ali Smith, whose citation is below.
The novel is narrated by a woman called Anju, in the second year of a PhD where her thesis had been on the relationship between the internet and madness, specifically the experiences of mania and psychosis online.
However, recently she suffered from a manic episode with psychotic features, sending threatening emails to various of her acquaintances as well as a famous philosopher. Of those who received them, the CEO of her former firm 'was the only recipient to reply to me with anything resembling kindness on concern', but she was eventually sectioned.
The novel begins shortly after she has been discharged and is rebuilding her life and renewing her acquaintance. Although she is scared of apologising to those impacted, worried that they will not, and indeed should not, forgive her:
When I meet with the psychiatrist for the seventh or eighth time in my life, the internet connection is unstable. He begins to ask me how my mood is, before being cut off. I tell him that, for the most part, I feel both ashamed and embarrassed. I repeat this several times until the connection stabilises. Although it takes him a few attempts to get this across coherently, he tells me that a patient with a broken leg would never apologise for having a cast. I am unconvinced by the analogy. I want to ask him whether someone with a broken leg should be forgiven for attacking someone with their crutches.
One of her coping mechanisms is to sketch a bar of pink soap which she uses - see the opening quote - making thirty-seven such sketches over the course of the novel and sending them to friends and acquaintances, particularly those who visited her in hospital or sent get-well cards.
Anju is also biracial, born in Hiroshima to a Japanese father and British mother, who later became estranged from the family and as a child she moved to the UK with her mother aged around 7, not seeing her father for another 14 years thereafter, a component of her fractured identity.
I might never have realised I was biracial; the strangeness of my name is sometimes the only thing that reminds me I am not, in fact, white. An unusual name invites predictable questions. As a child, when people asked where my name was from, I would tell them I was half Japanese and draw an imaginary vertical line down the middle of my face with my index finger. Aside from these moments, I did not think about race at all during my childhood.
There were over a thousand pupils in my secondary school. As a teenager, when the girls in my class asked me why I had such dark hair, I told them it was because I was half Japanese. Stop lying, they said. You don't look Japanese at all. Prove it, they said. When my classmates told me I did not look Japanese, I felt joy.
And in the novel's second section she travels to Japan to visit her father, who doesn't speak English, a friend of his providing interpretation and also acting as a bridge in their relationship.
The narration is in short, often single-sentence, paragraphs, reflecting the narrator's attempt to piece together her life and to overcome her feelings of shame: I tell myself I cannot live my life in fear of having another episode, yet that is how I feel. [...] I feel that the latest episode wrung all the language out of my mouth [...] I feel like I will never be able to look anyone in the eye ever again.
This is a powerful piece - novella length is perfect for the intensity - and another impressive book from Weatherglass Press.
Booktube review by Bob the Bookerer
Ali Smith's citation
“I ask the internet the difference between something being too close to the bone and something being too close to home.” This funny and terrifying book is a study of what and how things mean, and don't, in our latest machine age. In it something unforgiveable has happened.
The main character, seemingly numbed but bristling with blade-sharp understanding, is only just holding things together and trying to work out how to heal. So she travels to Japan in a search for the other half of a fragmented family. Or is it the world itself that has fragmented?
Pink Soap examines the massive everyday pressures we’re all underwith real wit and style. It is pristine, brilliant, smart beyond belief. I sense it becoming as much a classic for now as Plath’s The Bell Jar has been for the decades behind us.
September 27, 2026
There are times when a book just speaks your language. By this I mean it hits all the personal checkboxes. Anju Gaston’s novella Pink Soap did that for me.
The narrator has just been released from a spell in a mental hospital and is trying her hardest to adapt to her previous life, meeting acquaintances, trying to continue her PhD, reestablish her relationship with her mother and finding a routine. Before her breakdown she had planned a trip to Japan in order to visit her father. The first half of the book is about coping. The book’s title is about her obsession with drawing a bar of pink soap
The second half takes place in Japan. Again it’s about her trying to adjust and experience some type of epiphany.
The book concludes with her return and trying to progress.
Existential, quietly philosophical, poignant, stylistically economical and observant, Pink Soap has a way of sticking to one’s brain. HIGHLY recommended.
The narrator has just been released from a spell in a mental hospital and is trying her hardest to adapt to her previous life, meeting acquaintances, trying to continue her PhD, reestablish her relationship with her mother and finding a routine. Before her breakdown she had planned a trip to Japan in order to visit her father. The first half of the book is about coping. The book’s title is about her obsession with drawing a bar of pink soap
The second half takes place in Japan. Again it’s about her trying to adjust and experience some type of epiphany.
The book concludes with her return and trying to progress.
Existential, quietly philosophical, poignant, stylistically economical and observant, Pink Soap has a way of sticking to one’s brain. HIGHLY recommended.
Read
October 23, 2026ugh, nope.
I fell for the cover design but… honestly?? this book was never interesting. which seems so strange to say as this seems like a work that might make me swoon hard for a few reasons, but just didn’t ever get there…
my first photography teacher was awesomely obsessed with drawing, so an assignment from her is one I still bring up with others / my students re: “the eye” & more etc etc etc: drawing a tube of toothpaste over & over & over & over as it transformed for an extended period of time & frequently, & it’s simple but does so much…
I hated it at first, haha—I mean as a teenager & had the attitude of “whyyyyyy bUt I’m GoNnA bE A pHoTogRapHeR” going… so while reading this I was invested in the five identical pink colour pencils she describes buying at the start so wonderfully… but then the Pink Soap drawn by the main character here is barely a device that drags the plot along etc, & never really actually an obsessive thing nor discussed in true depth, even the metaphor for it & all..
maybe the writer has zero art experience? maybe they also haven’t looked at much art? I mean, let’s be real: you can’t make that great of a drawing of pink soap especially only using a colour pencil of just one shade of pink (especially guessing the pink in mind is the one featured on the cover)… it’d be kinda awful & it’s suggested that this is not supposed to be the case at all in the book, so matters... &, if a writer is shaping their book around this idea can’t be bothered to look close enough at any good colour pencil drawing & SEE that (if the argument of “bUt I cAn’T / dOn’T dRaW” is there), are they looking closely at ANYthing?? I know others might see this as just a technical thing, but also might explain why other bigger parts of this fall more into the manic pixie dream girl trope mode instead adding anything fresh to fiction re: some complex subjects… “do you know what I mean”…??
(the last “” is in reference to something in the opening lines. will post some passages later.)
I fell for the cover design but… honestly?? this book was never interesting. which seems so strange to say as this seems like a work that might make me swoon hard for a few reasons, but just didn’t ever get there…
my first photography teacher was awesomely obsessed with drawing, so an assignment from her is one I still bring up with others / my students re: “the eye” & more etc etc etc: drawing a tube of toothpaste over & over & over & over as it transformed for an extended period of time & frequently, & it’s simple but does so much…
I hated it at first, haha—I mean as a teenager & had the attitude of “whyyyyyy bUt I’m GoNnA bE A pHoTogRapHeR” going… so while reading this I was invested in the five identical pink colour pencils she describes buying at the start so wonderfully… but then the Pink Soap drawn by the main character here is barely a device that drags the plot along etc, & never really actually an obsessive thing nor discussed in true depth, even the metaphor for it & all..
maybe the writer has zero art experience? maybe they also haven’t looked at much art? I mean, let’s be real: you can’t make that great of a drawing of pink soap especially only using a colour pencil of just one shade of pink (especially guessing the pink in mind is the one featured on the cover)… it’d be kinda awful & it’s suggested that this is not supposed to be the case at all in the book, so matters... &, if a writer is shaping their book around this idea can’t be bothered to look close enough at any good colour pencil drawing & SEE that (if the argument of “bUt I cAn’T / dOn’T dRaW” is there), are they looking closely at ANYthing?? I know others might see this as just a technical thing, but also might explain why other bigger parts of this fall more into the manic pixie dream girl trope mode instead adding anything fresh to fiction re: some complex subjects… “do you know what I mean”…??
(the last “” is in reference to something in the opening lines. will post some passages later.)
July 1, 2026
Incredibly dark yet witty. I found myself conflicted, feeling guilty for laughing out loud at all the satirical gems. I loved the exploration of the everyday, for me it was very reminiscent of Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker. It’s a real skill to grip and entertain someone in the telling of what could be the most mundane experiences. A very accurate and hard hitting (yet funny and elegant) portrayal of life inside the mind of someone with a mood disorder. I enjoyed the sense of isolation and the exploration of connection. Amazing book. Can’t wait for the next one!
August 1, 2026
Have you ever read a book which sounds bizarre but which makes perfect?
Winner of the 2026 Weatherglass Novella Prize, Anju Gaston's Pink Soap is a darkly funny, intelligent, and deeply affecting look at recovery, estrangement, and the fragility of reality.
Told as a diaristic account, the novella opens with a PhD student discharged from hospital, crushed by shame after a psychotic episode, before travelling to Japan to try and reconnect with her father.
The titular bar of pink soap is something the narrator repeatedly sketches as it gradually shrinks. This small domestic object becomes a quiet point of fixation, something tangible, predictable, and reassuring to return to when everything else feels uncertain.
Through the narrative, Gaston explores two kinds of estrangement: the narrator’s separation from her own mind and past identity following her breakdown, and the poignant familial distance during her trip, where years, geography, and a language barrier make connection hard to grasp.
The way the narrator labels those around her - “my Doctor friend,” “my Swedish acquaintance” - heightens this feeling of disconnection and gives a sense she’s trying to maintain a protective distance.
Gaston uses dry, deadpan wit and hyper-fixated domestic detail to ground the story. Think Fleabag crossed with Convenience Store Woman, with the micro-detail of Nicholson Baker’s The Mezzanine and the absurdity of Yorgos Lanthimos's The Lobster.
Yet, beneath the humour lies immense vulnerability, capturing the subtle strain of our chronically online culture and the relentless daily pressures we face.
Gaston captures how mental stability isn't a permanent destination. It is not a broken shelf that stays fixed once repaired, but something that requires constant attention.
The narrator's matter-of-fact delivery is not from lack of feeling. Indeed, it is a necessary numbness, emotional restraint being the only way to contain how acutely she feels everything.
Pink Soap has been called “A classic for now as Plath's The Bell Jar has been for decades behind us,” by Ali Smith, and I completely agree. I only wish it had been longer, but I savoured every word.
Winner of the 2026 Weatherglass Novella Prize, Anju Gaston's Pink Soap is a darkly funny, intelligent, and deeply affecting look at recovery, estrangement, and the fragility of reality.
Told as a diaristic account, the novella opens with a PhD student discharged from hospital, crushed by shame after a psychotic episode, before travelling to Japan to try and reconnect with her father.
The titular bar of pink soap is something the narrator repeatedly sketches as it gradually shrinks. This small domestic object becomes a quiet point of fixation, something tangible, predictable, and reassuring to return to when everything else feels uncertain.
Through the narrative, Gaston explores two kinds of estrangement: the narrator’s separation from her own mind and past identity following her breakdown, and the poignant familial distance during her trip, where years, geography, and a language barrier make connection hard to grasp.
The way the narrator labels those around her - “my Doctor friend,” “my Swedish acquaintance” - heightens this feeling of disconnection and gives a sense she’s trying to maintain a protective distance.
Gaston uses dry, deadpan wit and hyper-fixated domestic detail to ground the story. Think Fleabag crossed with Convenience Store Woman, with the micro-detail of Nicholson Baker’s The Mezzanine and the absurdity of Yorgos Lanthimos's The Lobster.
Yet, beneath the humour lies immense vulnerability, capturing the subtle strain of our chronically online culture and the relentless daily pressures we face.
Gaston captures how mental stability isn't a permanent destination. It is not a broken shelf that stays fixed once repaired, but something that requires constant attention.
The narrator's matter-of-fact delivery is not from lack of feeling. Indeed, it is a necessary numbness, emotional restraint being the only way to contain how acutely she feels everything.
Pink Soap has been called “A classic for now as Plath's The Bell Jar has been for decades behind us,” by Ali Smith, and I completely agree. I only wish it had been longer, but I savoured every word.
July 19, 2026
A novella with the gravity of Plath and Patchett
Pink Soap by Anju Gaston
Joint winner of the Weatherglass Novella Prize, Pink Soap is narrated by Anju, a PhD student researching the relationship between the internet and madness. After a manic episode with psychotic features, during which she sent threatening emails to acquaintances and even a philosopher, she is sectioned (detained under mental health law) and later discharged, left to rebuild her life and face those she alienated.
One of her coping mechanisms is to sketch a bar of pink soap, thirty‑seven times over the course of the novella, sending the drawings to friends and acquaintances who had visited her in hospital or sent get‑well cards. The obsessive details—estimating how many showers the soap will survive, buying more pink pencils to continue the ritual—are both absurd and profound, giving the book its strange weight. After her release, she travels to Japan to visit her estranged father, but she cannot speak his language. A friend steps in to interpret, becoming the bridge that allows them to reconnect, underscoring the fragility of identity and belonging.
This novella belongs alongside Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar and Ann Patchett’s Truth & Beauty, her memoir of friendship with Lucy Grealy. Like those works, Gaston’s book confronts breakdown and mental health with blade‑sharp clarity, but here the brevity intensifies the effect. I valued it enough to order a hard copy from Weatherglass after finishing and returning the library copy. Kudos to them for publishing a work that feels destined to endure.
Pink Soap by Anju Gaston
Joint winner of the Weatherglass Novella Prize, Pink Soap is narrated by Anju, a PhD student researching the relationship between the internet and madness. After a manic episode with psychotic features, during which she sent threatening emails to acquaintances and even a philosopher, she is sectioned (detained under mental health law) and later discharged, left to rebuild her life and face those she alienated.
One of her coping mechanisms is to sketch a bar of pink soap, thirty‑seven times over the course of the novella, sending the drawings to friends and acquaintances who had visited her in hospital or sent get‑well cards. The obsessive details—estimating how many showers the soap will survive, buying more pink pencils to continue the ritual—are both absurd and profound, giving the book its strange weight. After her release, she travels to Japan to visit her estranged father, but she cannot speak his language. A friend steps in to interpret, becoming the bridge that allows them to reconnect, underscoring the fragility of identity and belonging.
This novella belongs alongside Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar and Ann Patchett’s Truth & Beauty, her memoir of friendship with Lucy Grealy. Like those works, Gaston’s book confronts breakdown and mental health with blade‑sharp clarity, but here the brevity intensifies the effect. I valued it enough to order a hard copy from Weatherglass after finishing and returning the library copy. Kudos to them for publishing a work that feels destined to endure.
Review of advance copy
This short novella concerns a woman in her thirties who is attempting to rebuild her life after a psychotic episode and time spent in a mental institution. It seems from the cover note biography, that part at least, is based on Gaston’s own experience.
It’s very well written, and managed to demand my attention though the subject matter did not really interest me.
It’s very well written, and managed to demand my attention though the subject matter did not really interest me.
September 21, 2026
Shoganai indeed
August 23, 2026
maybe a 3.75 if we're being pedantic. really enjoyed her unique writing style. I needed just a bit more plot to rate it higher.
August 30, 2026
“i feel sad and then i feel sick and then i feel sad again” is the best way to describe how arriving in japan feels for me. so simple and poignant, the whole novella feels like this sentence.
i wrote in my journal earlier today that i should stop reading sad books about sad women visiting japan and/or about their unrequited crushes but i love sitting in my own pain a processing it through others’ beautiful writing. so really, this was therapeutic and precious!
i wrote in my journal earlier today that i should stop reading sad books about sad women visiting japan and/or about their unrequited crushes but i love sitting in my own pain a processing it through others’ beautiful writing. so really, this was therapeutic and precious!
October 26, 2026
Really interesting
Reminded me of of kazou Ishiguro’s writing
Not loads of plot but I really enjoyed it
Reminded me of of kazou Ishiguro’s writing
Not loads of plot but I really enjoyed it
November 1, 2026
Therapy too expensive? Draw some pink soap 🧼
August 18, 2026
Not so much a girl-gone-mad genre I thought it would be. Gave me similar vibes as “Vulnerables” as it also sounds like thought-dump but more beautifully written.
October 7, 2026
I was prompted to read this short book on a friend’s recommendation and at first was a bit hesitant as the subject matter, a person with bipolar disorder recovering from a recent severe manic episode requiring psychiatric inpatient care and sectioning under the mental health act, is close to my heart as a family member suffers from the same disorder and is currently unwell. However much in the same way that Emma Clime’s Switzy attempted to allow the reader to experience the deranged thought processes of dementia, this extraordinary novel in a sympathetic, non judgemental way showed how it felt to experience a psychotic episode. It was clear to see the multiple stressors in the life of the main protagonist and in particular the disconnect with her Japanese father, with whom she has no language in common.
I’m glad I had the courage to read this book and would definitely recommend it.
I’m glad I had the courage to read this book and would definitely recommend it.
August 6, 2026
This was a really good read, it’s certainly sticking in my head more than a week later
June 30, 2026
I can’t say that I understood the book but I couldn’t put it down
July 19, 2026
“The neighbour asks whether I have had a good year. I think about the number of people who would most likely never speak to me again. I think about being sectioned and forcibly medicated for forty-two days. ‘So-so,’ I say.”
I recently discovered Weatherglass Novellas after reading that Ali Smith had judged these two books the joint winners of the 2026 Weatherglass Novella Prize. As I’m a huge Ali Smith fan, I immediately bought them both.
In Pink Soap, our narrator has recently been hospitalised following a manic episode and is trying to rebuild her life. A PhD student in London, she is researching the relationship between the internet and madness.
The novella begins in the aftermath of her hospitalisation, as she attempts to move forward after sending numerous threatening emails during her manic period. In many ways, the story reads like a diary, allowing us inside her mind through short, sharp, darkly funny observations.
The narrator is biracial, of Japanese and British ethnicity, and partway through the story she travels to Japan to meet her father, whom she has only met a handful of times. This journey adds another layer to the novel’s exploration of identity and attempting to put her life together.
Despite its light and often humorous tone, the novella has a lot to say about mental illness, and the pressure to appear “normal” in both the workplace and wider society. The story also explores how little we can truly know about other people’s lives, reminding us that so much suffering remains invisible.
“…Key things I learned was that, in the wake of a car crash, you should always be most concerned about the person who is silent and likely in shock. The person who screams and cries is probably fine. And I feel that when it comes to suffering, those who have experienced real hardship tend not to be vocal about it, you know?’
I enjoyed this novella! If you liked Jente Posthuma’s What I’d Rather Not Think About, I think you’ll enjoy Pink Soap too. It’s a brilliant debut: intelligent, funny, and quietly devastating. Beneath its dark humour lies an exploration of identity, mental health, and the stories we tell ourselves to keep going.
I recently discovered Weatherglass Novellas after reading that Ali Smith had judged these two books the joint winners of the 2026 Weatherglass Novella Prize. As I’m a huge Ali Smith fan, I immediately bought them both.
In Pink Soap, our narrator has recently been hospitalised following a manic episode and is trying to rebuild her life. A PhD student in London, she is researching the relationship between the internet and madness.
The novella begins in the aftermath of her hospitalisation, as she attempts to move forward after sending numerous threatening emails during her manic period. In many ways, the story reads like a diary, allowing us inside her mind through short, sharp, darkly funny observations.
The narrator is biracial, of Japanese and British ethnicity, and partway through the story she travels to Japan to meet her father, whom she has only met a handful of times. This journey adds another layer to the novel’s exploration of identity and attempting to put her life together.
Despite its light and often humorous tone, the novella has a lot to say about mental illness, and the pressure to appear “normal” in both the workplace and wider society. The story also explores how little we can truly know about other people’s lives, reminding us that so much suffering remains invisible.
“…Key things I learned was that, in the wake of a car crash, you should always be most concerned about the person who is silent and likely in shock. The person who screams and cries is probably fine. And I feel that when it comes to suffering, those who have experienced real hardship tend not to be vocal about it, you know?’
I enjoyed this novella! If you liked Jente Posthuma’s What I’d Rather Not Think About, I think you’ll enjoy Pink Soap too. It’s a brilliant debut: intelligent, funny, and quietly devastating. Beneath its dark humour lies an exploration of identity, mental health, and the stories we tell ourselves to keep going.
September 14, 2026
Despite being intrigued at the start of this book, I found my attention waning towards the middle and sadly, the intrigue just didn't return.
I will say there are some beautiful quotes throughout but I found the writing to be quite staccato (I'm guessing that was intentional to mirror the MC's fragile mental state as she attempts to rebuild her reality) and whilst the observations were striking at times, nothing really impacted me as much as I hoped it would.
I think it definitely succeeded in capturing someone who has experienced a manic episode and has a fractured state of mind / perception but sadly I don't think it will be a book I will be thinking about for very long; if it was novel-length, I'm sure it would have made more of an impact.
I will say there are some beautiful quotes throughout but I found the writing to be quite staccato (I'm guessing that was intentional to mirror the MC's fragile mental state as she attempts to rebuild her reality) and whilst the observations were striking at times, nothing really impacted me as much as I hoped it would.
I think it definitely succeeded in capturing someone who has experienced a manic episode and has a fractured state of mind / perception but sadly I don't think it will be a book I will be thinking about for very long; if it was novel-length, I'm sure it would have made more of an impact.
August 6, 2026
So mundane but filled to the brim with an ever-present emptiness, incompleteness. I loved it. The character seems to overanalyse everything and think so deeply in ways that the people around just don’t. I love how they interpret the world, even if it’s bleak.
Also, so nice to read an AMAZING novel from a fellow Devonian!!!
Also, so nice to read an AMAZING novel from a fellow Devonian!!!
August 8, 2026
Me hice la interesante comprando este libro y, oye, bastante bien.
No hay una trama muy elaborada; son más bien sus pensamientos intrusivos, pero me vi reflejado en ellos.
Ella hace reflexiones que me han gustado mucho y se sentía como leer un artículo de Substack en el mejor de los sentidos.
Buena lectura de playa, fácil de leer y entretenido si te gustan este tipo de libros.
No hay una trama muy elaborada; son más bien sus pensamientos intrusivos, pero me vi reflejado en ellos.
Ella hace reflexiones que me han gustado mucho y se sentía como leer un artículo de Substack en el mejor de los sentidos.
Buena lectura de playa, fácil de leer y entretenido si te gustan este tipo de libros.
September 19, 2026
A really strange little book! No names, almost no descriptions and simplified explanations, but I just found it totally hypnotic. I think it was almost the perfect length for the kind of book it is. Personally, I always love bigger emotions within a novel, so this was quite cold for my personal taste, but, again, I weirdly didn't mind it. A very intelligent, wryly funny and heartbreaking novella.
July 13, 2026
I really loved this as Anju has managed to put the reader in the headspace of someone going through a manic episode, or having ADHD. It’s entertaining and makes you feel seen, and yet this is not a self help book (thank god). Incredibly vulnerable at points too.
July 22, 2026
I can see the Sylvia Plath comparison but sadly this type of writing (short, straightforward sentences) rarely makes me feel anything. But I do enjoy this kind of story where the characters are more important than any kind of plot development!
September 26, 2026
Anju Gaston is a brilliant observer of things, moods, and relationships. She has a unique ability to fuse seemingly disparate states— tragedy is funny, madness is mundane. The prose is scalpel-like in its precision. I adore this book.
October 17, 2026
Lovely little read. Contemplative and reminiscent of a very sad and straining time in my life. Makes me feel content in aloneness. I like the writing style, short and choppy with a few stand out turns of phrase. Reminds me of a few other novellas I’ve read this year. Gorgeous and inspiring!
July 5, 2026
Very stylish writing including some very memorable images (most prominently: the pink soap). A tough read though because purposefully very flat
July 28, 2026
Sadly, didn’t enjoy this one as much as I’d hoped to
July 30, 2026
Despite me being a big fan of novel about mental health and language as an impediment for relationships, this book didn't capture me and it didn't leave any big impression on me.
August 12, 2026
Funny and entertaining but not something I’d return to
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