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I Never Said I Loved You
"I'm in bed with my mother, in a Bangkok sex hotel. It is my 30th birthday, it is time for me to become a man, and I have grave worries about the kind of man I'm going to become." On an unlikely backpacking trip, Rhik and his mother find themselves speaking openly for the first time in years. Afterwards, the depression that has weighed down on Rhik begins to loosen its grip for a moment - so he seizes the to own it, to understand it, and to find out where it came from. Through this begins a journey of investigation, healing and recovery. Along the way Rhik learns some shocking truths about his family, and realizes that, in turn, he will need to confront the secrets he has long buried. But through this, he triumphs over his fears and brings his depression into the light. I Never Said I Loved You is the story of how Rhik learned to let go, and then keep going. With unique humour and honesty, he has created a powerfully rich, funny and poignant exploration of the light and dark in all of us.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published August 6, 2019
138 people are currently reading
3897 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 134 reviews
August 9, 2019
For months I've been seeing the chosen people (agents, journalists, writers) on Twitter, giving this all the raves. I've had it on order for longer than that. I loved his Guardian column 'Inspect A Gadget' (even before 'the egg one') and basically I just love the way Samadder writes. I voyeur on Twitter.
I finally got my humble Kindle copy on Monday. Huzzah!
I've read a few books recently that deal with masculinity, mothers and mental health (Ocean Vuong's 'On earth we're briefly gorgeous', David Nicholl's 'Sweet Sorrow', sorta, and Chris Powers' 'Mothers').
This WAS glorious and everything I hoped it would be. Funny (because he is funny) but also devastating, even flooring. Reader, there were tears. Obviously, there are chapters of his life story that are painful, horrid and sad. Probably one of the best things about the book is that these don't come as ta-dah moments but creep up on you, rather like they must have creeped up on him. It is not, I repeat not, a misery memoir and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. The moments of pleasure and joy aren't to make up for the grim stuff, they're just as well as.
I'm not suggesting you read this just because it's about blokes and mental health and that's quite trendy. I'm suggesting you read it because it's a story about a guy, just a guy, who's figuring shit out. Only in a more brilliant, honest, funny and sad way than most of us are able to.
It also, btw, makes me pleased to a person who pays for a Guardian subscription, just saying.
I finally got my humble Kindle copy on Monday. Huzzah!
I've read a few books recently that deal with masculinity, mothers and mental health (Ocean Vuong's 'On earth we're briefly gorgeous', David Nicholl's 'Sweet Sorrow', sorta, and Chris Powers' 'Mothers').
This WAS glorious and everything I hoped it would be. Funny (because he is funny) but also devastating, even flooring. Reader, there were tears. Obviously, there are chapters of his life story that are painful, horrid and sad. Probably one of the best things about the book is that these don't come as ta-dah moments but creep up on you, rather like they must have creeped up on him. It is not, I repeat not, a misery memoir and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. The moments of pleasure and joy aren't to make up for the grim stuff, they're just as well as.
I'm not suggesting you read this just because it's about blokes and mental health and that's quite trendy. I'm suggesting you read it because it's a story about a guy, just a guy, who's figuring shit out. Only in a more brilliant, honest, funny and sad way than most of us are able to.
It also, btw, makes me pleased to a person who pays for a Guardian subscription, just saying.
March 24, 2021
"For some reason, it's also seen as vain to be writing your memoirs when you're in your thirties and no one knows who you are."
I Never Said I Loved You is at once witty and excruciating.
Rhik Samadder's writing is fluent and dynamic, his story, intimate.
I began this book, recording passages that enthralled me. They were ubiquitous. I stopped documenting for the sake of immersion in Samadder's narration. Okay, just a few more:
"Depressives are constantly advised to be more open, to speak up, as if the only problem is our blushing reticence. But if one does find the nerve to speak directly, there's no guarantee you'll be heard."
"Startling how the world reconfigures itself to your emotional state."
"It's embarrassing to actively try to save your soul."
I'm checking out Samadder's articles in The Guardian.
Does he tour? Because he should.
I Never Said I Loved You is at once witty and excruciating.
Rhik Samadder's writing is fluent and dynamic, his story, intimate.
I began this book, recording passages that enthralled me. They were ubiquitous. I stopped documenting for the sake of immersion in Samadder's narration. Okay, just a few more:
"Depressives are constantly advised to be more open, to speak up, as if the only problem is our blushing reticence. But if one does find the nerve to speak directly, there's no guarantee you'll be heard."
"Startling how the world reconfigures itself to your emotional state."
"It's embarrassing to actively try to save your soul."
I'm checking out Samadder's articles in The Guardian.
Does he tour? Because he should.
August 26, 2019
A heartbreaking and beautiful book that is effortlessly amusing and compelling. Rhik Samadder is an exceptional writer and I feel so fortunate to have read this gorgeous book. Could not recommend it more highly.
December 5, 2022
🦆
I started reading Rhik Samadder's columns last year, my eye caught by the incredibly bright yellow shorts he wore in the picture. The article was lighthearted, part of an ongoing series where Rhik tries something - in this case, learning to do a backflip. The article was fun, a nice break from endless Covid coverage and general political noise. I ended up reading my way back through the entire series, and then looking forward to each new one.
Somewhere along the way I noticed he had written a book. Although putting most of my Audible credits towards the new Discworld audio books, I made an exception last month and got this instead. I had expected to enjoy it, considering how much time I must have accumulated reading about Rhik learning pottery or falconry or mindful painting. I didn't quite expect it to be favourite book of the year so far (and with only a few weeks to go, he'll probably maintain that position).
It is a beautifully written book that covers, amongst other things: depression, sexual abuse, self-harm, grief, a mental breakdown, and his mother casually mentioning that she was once taken hostage, along with other passengers, on the flight she was on as she made her way to her new life in England.
He writes about all these things eloquently, openly, compassionately, and somehow it is also the funniest book I have read this year (unless the brilliant Silence by Shūsaku Endō that I am currently halfway through has an unexpectedly lighthearted, jolly chapter that Martin Scorsese omitted from his film version). Listening to the audio book I laughed often - not constantly, because of everything I mentioned above, but still for quite a large period of my listening time.
There was Rhik's goth phase, the time a girl touched his button (not a euphemism) a relatably monumental, deeply awkward moment, the part of his mental breakdown when was kicking apart the freezer but stopped because his foot got cold. There were the acting years, and the constant losing out of parts to Riz Ahmed and later, Dev Patel. He recounts how his mother was known to fall down manholes, and she corrects his assumption that this happened in England - she was still in India, and if I recall correctly, they leave the manholes open to help with flooding and she fell in. She concludes with, "What a thing to do." I'm still not sure if the thing is her falling in, that it was open in the first place, or both, but I laughed about it for ages (not in a cruel way, she clearly survived and seems untroubled by it) and keep thinking of it.
Rhik's mother is the star of this book in many ways, a woman I came to admire greatly. She seems like a genuinely fun person, doing her own thing, learning a new skill every year, with a passion for conferences, and creative (alarming perhaps?) cooking. When she and Rhik could only afford a cardboard coffin to bury his father/her husband, she brings it home and paints it, a touching moment, one of the stand-outs of the book. The book feels like a love letter to her, and a well deserved one. Her words to her son near the end of the book were especially poignant:
"Keep on writing, because these things that haunt you, they also let you see".
There is so much more I could cover, from the two serious girlfriends Rhik describes, both interesting, unusual and important, his perceptions about his father - the sane man in the house, the anchor-, drama school, the years after drama school, the beginning of his writing career...
I'm really cannot stress enough how much I loved this book and how glad I am that he wrote it. It also led me to a discovery that was not monumental, but still brightened my day - when I worked my way through his Rhik Samadder tries... column, I clicked the link for the column, not the link for the author. In Googling this book, I discovered many more older columns and pieces. I may skip Dani and Jack win the Love Island 2018 final – as it happened but A little bit Byron: why I love the swish of a good cape and Poirot without a moustache? This is not what I call festive cheer will certainly be read before too long.
https://www.theguardian.com/global/20...
The first example of Rhik Samadder's writing that I read:
https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandst...
I started reading Rhik Samadder's columns last year, my eye caught by the incredibly bright yellow shorts he wore in the picture. The article was lighthearted, part of an ongoing series where Rhik tries something - in this case, learning to do a backflip. The article was fun, a nice break from endless Covid coverage and general political noise. I ended up reading my way back through the entire series, and then looking forward to each new one.
Somewhere along the way I noticed he had written a book. Although putting most of my Audible credits towards the new Discworld audio books, I made an exception last month and got this instead. I had expected to enjoy it, considering how much time I must have accumulated reading about Rhik learning pottery or falconry or mindful painting. I didn't quite expect it to be favourite book of the year so far (and with only a few weeks to go, he'll probably maintain that position).
It is a beautifully written book that covers, amongst other things: depression, sexual abuse, self-harm, grief, a mental breakdown, and his mother casually mentioning that she was once taken hostage, along with other passengers, on the flight she was on as she made her way to her new life in England.
He writes about all these things eloquently, openly, compassionately, and somehow it is also the funniest book I have read this year (unless the brilliant Silence by Shūsaku Endō that I am currently halfway through has an unexpectedly lighthearted, jolly chapter that Martin Scorsese omitted from his film version). Listening to the audio book I laughed often - not constantly, because of everything I mentioned above, but still for quite a large period of my listening time.
There was Rhik's goth phase, the time a girl touched his button (not a euphemism) a relatably monumental, deeply awkward moment, the part of his mental breakdown when was kicking apart the freezer but stopped because his foot got cold. There were the acting years, and the constant losing out of parts to Riz Ahmed and later, Dev Patel. He recounts how his mother was known to fall down manholes, and she corrects his assumption that this happened in England - she was still in India, and if I recall correctly, they leave the manholes open to help with flooding and she fell in. She concludes with, "What a thing to do." I'm still not sure if the thing is her falling in, that it was open in the first place, or both, but I laughed about it for ages (not in a cruel way, she clearly survived and seems untroubled by it) and keep thinking of it.
Rhik's mother is the star of this book in many ways, a woman I came to admire greatly. She seems like a genuinely fun person, doing her own thing, learning a new skill every year, with a passion for conferences, and creative (alarming perhaps?) cooking. When she and Rhik could only afford a cardboard coffin to bury his father/her husband, she brings it home and paints it, a touching moment, one of the stand-outs of the book. The book feels like a love letter to her, and a well deserved one. Her words to her son near the end of the book were especially poignant:
"Keep on writing, because these things that haunt you, they also let you see".
There is so much more I could cover, from the two serious girlfriends Rhik describes, both interesting, unusual and important, his perceptions about his father - the sane man in the house, the anchor-, drama school, the years after drama school, the beginning of his writing career...
I'm really cannot stress enough how much I loved this book and how glad I am that he wrote it. It also led me to a discovery that was not monumental, but still brightened my day - when I worked my way through his Rhik Samadder tries... column, I clicked the link for the column, not the link for the author. In Googling this book, I discovered many more older columns and pieces. I may skip Dani and Jack win the Love Island 2018 final – as it happened but A little bit Byron: why I love the swish of a good cape and Poirot without a moustache? This is not what I call festive cheer will certainly be read before too long.
https://www.theguardian.com/global/20...
The first example of Rhik Samadder's writing that I read:
https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandst...
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 30, 2019
One of the best memoirs I've read this year! Wait how many memoirs did I read this year? Anyway... loved it
June 27, 2020
Woah.
I went into this not really knowing what it was about but this got to me straight away.
This is powerful and brutally honest that I was overwhelmed (mostly in a good way). Numerous topics are discussed such as abuse, anxiety and loneliness.
I would say this contains one of the most accurate discussions of mental health issues I have ever read.
The author has been through so much in his life that you feel your heart breaking for him on more than one occasion but this really shows the strong character that he is.
This does tackle some really serious topics so it may triggering for some. However, that being said the author also adds a lot of humour to their writing.
This will have you crying and then laughing within a few pages. I'm really glad I gave this a read.
Thank you to Netgalley for providing me a copy to read.
I went into this not really knowing what it was about but this got to me straight away.
This is powerful and brutally honest that I was overwhelmed (mostly in a good way). Numerous topics are discussed such as abuse, anxiety and loneliness.
I would say this contains one of the most accurate discussions of mental health issues I have ever read.
The author has been through so much in his life that you feel your heart breaking for him on more than one occasion but this really shows the strong character that he is.
This does tackle some really serious topics so it may triggering for some. However, that being said the author also adds a lot of humour to their writing.
This will have you crying and then laughing within a few pages. I'm really glad I gave this a read.
Thank you to Netgalley for providing me a copy to read.
October 17, 2019
This memoir is painfully honest about sexual abuse and it's impact on the author's mental health. It's not the sort of thing I would normally read, but I'm glad I did.
🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀
Each chapter describes how Rhik comes to terms with a different aspect of life and closes with a letter to a different person, saying things he wishes were said.
This is a powerful book and it made me laugh, a lot, despite the content.
🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍
Did I cry at the end? Maybe. But what he said about his mum at the end would make anyone cry.
🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀
Each chapter describes how Rhik comes to terms with a different aspect of life and closes with a letter to a different person, saying things he wishes were said.
This is a powerful book and it made me laugh, a lot, despite the content.
🍍🍍🍍🍍🍍
Did I cry at the end? Maybe. But what he said about his mum at the end would make anyone cry.
October 3, 2019
Gripping, moving and surprisingly funny
I read this because a friend of mine suffers from depression and I wanted to know more about how it feels. This felt very honest, raw and painful at times but I was surprised at how funny and even hopeful it was at the same time. I would certainly recommend it.
I read this because a friend of mine suffers from depression and I wanted to know more about how it feels. This felt very honest, raw and painful at times but I was surprised at how funny and even hopeful it was at the same time. I would certainly recommend it.
June 26, 2020
Started really well, but got tiresome.
I'd previously admired Samadder's wry humour and writing style in Guardian newspaper articles so when I heard he'd written a memoir, and one that quickly received rave reviews, I looked forward to getting stuck in.
I firstly have to say yes, there was some truly devastating scenes and a conjuring of imagery that really gripped me (e.g. him standing amidst a raging storm, seconds from being struck by lightning, questioning why and how, the power of nature...), but wrapped around these powerful sections was a fair bit of BS and dare I say... whining?
The book went on and on. I'm wary of saying that for fear of diminishing his struggles. I'm absolutely not. Rather I'm referring to a... self indulgence(?) that wafted off the pages. He'd get me hooked into a chapter and then ruin it with a throwaway bit of humour shoehorned in. Probably aiming for self-deprecation, for me it ruined the moment and frustrated me that every time I was completely with him, rooting for him, he'd ruin it with a sarcastic comment that made me feel stupid for believing in him.
I'm not against humour in a memoir, of course not, but you have to understand the rest of the book is so relentlessly intense that it stuck out a mile. Abuse, body image, mental health, relationships, he really lays it on you and I truly don't know how I'd have coped in his shoes. I just can't shake the feeling that he's a bit of a cock??? Pretentious and not very relatable at all.
It took me AGES to wade through this and put me in a reading slump for the next couple of months. It looks like I'm in a minority with these thoughts though!
I'd previously admired Samadder's wry humour and writing style in Guardian newspaper articles so when I heard he'd written a memoir, and one that quickly received rave reviews, I looked forward to getting stuck in.
I firstly have to say yes, there was some truly devastating scenes and a conjuring of imagery that really gripped me (e.g. him standing amidst a raging storm, seconds from being struck by lightning, questioning why and how, the power of nature...), but wrapped around these powerful sections was a fair bit of BS and dare I say... whining?
The book went on and on. I'm wary of saying that for fear of diminishing his struggles. I'm absolutely not. Rather I'm referring to a... self indulgence(?) that wafted off the pages. He'd get me hooked into a chapter and then ruin it with a throwaway bit of humour shoehorned in. Probably aiming for self-deprecation, for me it ruined the moment and frustrated me that every time I was completely with him, rooting for him, he'd ruin it with a sarcastic comment that made me feel stupid for believing in him.
I'm not against humour in a memoir, of course not, but you have to understand the rest of the book is so relentlessly intense that it stuck out a mile. Abuse, body image, mental health, relationships, he really lays it on you and I truly don't know how I'd have coped in his shoes. I just can't shake the feeling that he's a bit of a cock??? Pretentious and not very relatable at all.
It took me AGES to wade through this and put me in a reading slump for the next couple of months. It looks like I'm in a minority with these thoughts though!
October 1, 2019
This is an unconventional autobiography by the journalist and actor Rhik Samadder, who I was only vaguely aware of as a Guardian columnist.
Samadder talks about his history of childhood sexual abuse and his lifelong struggle with mental illness. Samadder also talks a lot about his relationship with his mother over time, and the impact that his mental illness and adulthood revelation of his childhood abuse had on that relationship. He also talks about his romantic relationships and the effect of his mental illness.
Somehow, Samadder also makes this book effortlessly funny, in a way that never makes light of the obviously heavy issues within. He also writes beautifully.
I went into this book without any clear expectations, and was utterly blindsided by its power and honesty. It is really very good.
Samadder talks about his history of childhood sexual abuse and his lifelong struggle with mental illness. Samadder also talks a lot about his relationship with his mother over time, and the impact that his mental illness and adulthood revelation of his childhood abuse had on that relationship. He also talks about his romantic relationships and the effect of his mental illness.
Somehow, Samadder also makes this book effortlessly funny, in a way that never makes light of the obviously heavy issues within. He also writes beautifully.
I went into this book without any clear expectations, and was utterly blindsided by its power and honesty. It is really very good.
unfinished
September 11, 2019I read the introduction and part of the first chapter, about 12 pages in total. I’m not sure how I’d heard about this or why I thought I wanted to read it. I guess it sounded like it would be an amusing family memoir that employed humor as well as pathos when dealing with serious subjects like depression. I’d never heard of the author, though (a broadcaster and Guardian columnist), so I had no specific interest in his life story and the writing had nothing to recommend it.
August 28, 2019
About the darkness of depression but brilliantly funny and left me feeling uplifted and hopeful. Also, nice to see someone else taking an unconventional path into journalism.
October 15, 2019
I could not get into this book at all. I do not like his style or writing unfortunately.
October 25, 2020
Read 20%. Not for me. He has obviously been through a lot, but this is way too naval gazing for me.
April 1, 2024
I chose I Never Said I Loved You from the library shelves as the author's name was familiar - I've enjoyed Samadder's irreverent Guardian columns. Obviously this book was a very different reading experience, as it's a personal memoir of depression. Despite the bleak topic, it is written in an often humorous, or at least sardonic, style. I think this worked overall, but might not be to everyone's taste. Some of the flippant jokes feel incongruous, although Samadder wisely keeps them away from discussions of the childhood sexual abuse he suffered. His relationship with his mother is a powerful thread running through the narrative and I found his affectionate descriptions of her moving.
Compared with several anxiety memoirs I've read (Coward: Why We Get Anxious & What We Can Do About It, My Age of Anxiety: Fear, Hope, Dread, and the Search for Peace of Mind, and Anxiety for Beginners: A Personal Investigation), I Never Said I Loved You is much less interested in talking about mental illness in the abstract. It is an autobiography, discussing Samadder's particular experience of depression, rather than a meditation on what depression is. He does sensibly acknowledge that medicine doesn't really know that either. I found his account of how trauma and depression shaped his life thoughtful and sometimes disconcertingly frank. It was funny when recounting anecdotes from drama school and his acting career, yet often heart-breaking otherwise. I always feel somewhat voyeuristic when reading such personal dissections of mental illness, trauma, and relationships. Yet I still do so, as I admire the self-awareness and bravery of explaining yourself to the world in an attempt to promote greater understanding.
Compared with several anxiety memoirs I've read (Coward: Why We Get Anxious & What We Can Do About It, My Age of Anxiety: Fear, Hope, Dread, and the Search for Peace of Mind, and Anxiety for Beginners: A Personal Investigation), I Never Said I Loved You is much less interested in talking about mental illness in the abstract. It is an autobiography, discussing Samadder's particular experience of depression, rather than a meditation on what depression is. He does sensibly acknowledge that medicine doesn't really know that either. I found his account of how trauma and depression shaped his life thoughtful and sometimes disconcertingly frank. It was funny when recounting anecdotes from drama school and his acting career, yet often heart-breaking otherwise. I always feel somewhat voyeuristic when reading such personal dissections of mental illness, trauma, and relationships. Yet I still do so, as I admire the self-awareness and bravery of explaining yourself to the world in an attempt to promote greater understanding.
October 23, 2019
Brilliant book. So well written.
February 19, 2021
I came across this book by chance (or maybe I should call it fate) at a public library in London. Little did I know this book would change my life. This is an honest, raw, funny, heartbreaking account of the real struggles of its author with depression.
How anyone can write a book about such a dark, difficult subject with such grace and humour is both puzzling and mesmerising. Rhik Samadder, respect!
How anyone can write a book about such a dark, difficult subject with such grace and humour is both puzzling and mesmerising. Rhik Samadder, respect!
June 4, 2020
At first I was really on board with this book but for whatever reason the wheels began to fall off halfway through and my attention began to wane. I did appreciate the oftentimes brutal look at depression and did find myself in several parts nodding along in complete understanding. At other times though I was really put off and can't really put my finger on why. An interesting read nevertheless.
November 1, 2019
I suffer with depression. An anxiety but found this book boring and not at all how it feels it was hard reading an skipped pages just to get to the end not sure what all the fuss was about had high hopes after reading reviews but was deeply disappointed
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March 22, 2021
My favourite book I’ve ever read. It’s beautiful. It discusses things I’ve experienced, thought, felt but never had the chance to hear back to me. It’s utterly comforting in its relatability. If there’s one book I’d force on everyone I cross paths with, it’s this one.
September 24, 2019
Wow, what a book. A brutally honest and painful memoir, laced with laugh out loud humour, written by a supremely talented author. This one’s a keeper.
October 24, 2019
Great book.
September 27, 2020
Warm, very funny, very relatable. I’ve somehow ended up reading a few memoirs this year and have thoroughly enjoyed all of them. Maybe I enjoy memoir!
I Never Said I Loved You is the perfect blend of pathos and humour, incredibly entertaining and witty, but also covering heavy stuff, like his clinical depression, regrets, masculinity, the death of his father. I put this down feeling like I’m best friends with the author, which obviously I’m not, but it’s a beautiful feeling of connection and tenderness to have.
I Never Said I Loved You is the perfect blend of pathos and humour, incredibly entertaining and witty, but also covering heavy stuff, like his clinical depression, regrets, masculinity, the death of his father. I put this down feeling like I’m best friends with the author, which obviously I’m not, but it’s a beautiful feeling of connection and tenderness to have.
October 29, 2019
Devoured this book which is in every way one of the best memoirs you could ever hope to read. I cried at the end while on a plane while sat next to a complete stranger.
Incredible book, I highly recommend
Incredible book, I highly recommend
September 25, 2019
one of the biggest shocks in this book is calculating from scant clues how old rhik samadder actually is, gave me a full 🤯 on a bus ride home
this is a painful and beautiful read - five stars fully deserved for a stroll around the mind of a top favourite writer
BETTER THAN THE EGG THING
this is a painful and beautiful read - five stars fully deserved for a stroll around the mind of a top favourite writer
BETTER THAN THE EGG THING
April 7, 2020
A strange book. I can't say I didn't like it but couldn't say what I liked about it. I found the timeline quite confusing, and had that weird feeling of rooting for the author while being aware I would have found him annoying if I knew him in person...
October 31, 2021
This was never going to be an easy book to read. How could it be when it details the author's experience of childhood sexual abuse, self harming, suicidal thoughts and depression. I did find I could only read it for so long before needing to have a break which is why it took a while to read it. However, there are some humorous moments scattered throughout the book.
September 1, 2020
Stopped reading this after one chapter, couldn't get into it. The writing was quite boring and felt monotone, despite the fact that the author was talking about his depression and other deep emotions.
August 21, 2021
No leí este libro como tal, leí "I said I love you" de Ariana Godoy pero no está en Goodreads ): pero me encantó
March 26, 2021
A compelling honest memoir discussing some very heavy subjects, but at times very amusing, with interjections of laughter to oppose the sadness.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 134 reviews