A quietly astonishing collection of personal essays from one of New Zealand's most exciting new voices.
'Michelle Langstone writes as she performs-with wit, humanity and a fierce vulnerability, holding on tight.' - Diana Wichtel
'These essays about love, loss, and memories of night voyages with her dad glow from within, like phosphorescence on the sea. Just what we need in times like these.' - Diana Wichtel
'Evocative, lyrical, surprising, Times Like These is built from a heart that bursts out of every page.' - Toby Manhire
Childhood, family, and death; anxiety and release; grief and the hope of new life: these are some of the themes that underpin Michelle Langstone's debut collection.
Michelle is interested in the way the concept of identity is shaken during a major event, and in the feeling world at its most raw and intimate. These essays speak to one another across a timeline, examining her world before the death of her father, and life after his passing, when she recalibrates the shape of a universe without him. Essays on acting, fertility and IVF, and intergenerational love round out a collection that is full of candour and humour.
Tender, poignant and moving, these intimate essays are perfectly formed and offer a shimmering portrait of the human condition.
Many essay collections feel a little bit random, like the pieces are collected by good luck, united by a single author who tries on different guises in each window into themselves. I read this while being violently seasick on a ferry (good, fun, wholesome times) and was completely struck and how much of a collection it was; these pieces of writing belong together, are completely entangled. Langstone exhibits this enormous grace where she invites you into deeply intimate spaces in her life. The little subtitle is completely correct: there is a persistent grief threaded through this collection, completely connected to hope. In some ways, the connection, the hope for a child and the loss of a parent, are a perfect matching pair. It was the specificity that moved me most of all: the idea of advertising for gandparents in the newspaper, the notes left on a tree, the dragging salt of a life on boats. I have some quibbles with certain aspects of this collection, but I'm not immune to Langstone's generousity in sharing this with the world.
I am in love with this book. It’s written so candidly and with such tenderness you can experience the sadness and joy, Michelle experienced. It doesn’t just cover loss but sometimes when you lose someone you search out books on grief to console you or find answers and this is the first book that has ever give me some comfort.
I loved this book. It is so relatable. The love with which Michelle writes about her family, her loss and her hope is just beautiful. I found the chapter on grandparents so wonderful and relatable as I miss my grandmother daily. I can’t praise it enough and I feel like I have a new friend.
So much of this felt familiar, like the author was my twin. The comfort and belonging in family. The time spent with a dying father. The shyness, the not-fitting-in at school. Told in a simple and elegant manner, this is a collection to savour and take time with.
So beautifully written and relatable. Michelle writes poetically, verbalising the hidden, busy thoughts in our heads that we are often too embarrassed to talk about - the shame of not being the popular girl in school, the hidden shyness she is always fighting, the way grief comes and almost washes us away in its sudden attacks, and then changes us forever. She speaks to the irony of our fertile lives as women, as we try to avoid pregnancy, only then to be stuck with another more unfair, troublesome conundrum if we avoid it for too long - the angst and aching of trying to conceive. She talks of the magic that books instilled in her as a child and her family's appreciation of them. She then goes on to successfully weave her own magic in her expressive, ponderings on nature, the sea, and what it gives and takes of us. Her description of the frustration and wonderment in the novelty of the first Covid-19 lockdown and the grief it introduced to all our lives was so realistic - how she walked to try to work it out and pondered our journey on this planet along the way. The author had me hooked when she read excerpts of the essays at the Auckland Writers Festival and I was not disappointed reading them. I could not put the book down and read late into the night, her words carrying me along like the tides of the sea she speaks to. A highly recommended memoir.
I couldn’t finish this. I was so excited to read this book but it disappointed. Having suffered a range of tragedies in my own life (including losing both parents), I devour books about other people coping with similar. The art is in telling what is a common, ordinary human experience (everyone loses their parents at some point) in an extraordinary way, in way that we can connect with. Even though this book was objectively well written, it just didn’t move me. I struggled to find the heart in it. Even when the writer was supposedly being vulnerable, it felt surface and cliche. Maybe because the vulnerabilities were the acceptable kind of vulnerabilities - the crying, the looking at photos, the regret. Not the vulnerabilities that can carry shame - how grief can make you act in truly crazy ways. I am wondering if this book was over-edited? Because it is perfectly crafted but failed to grab me.
This is one of the most beautiful books I have read. Michelle Langstone’s writing is exquisite in these very personal essays about death, family, a New Zealand childhood, ageing, struggling to become pregnant. She takes you right into the heart of herself. Outstanding. Everyone should read this book.
I didn't warm to this at first, but it grows on you gradually - and you become invested very slowly but significantly. In parts it had a profouns impact on me. I suggest reading this if you are dealing with grief and life generally. Langstone's humility and kindness are driving forces here - in the end she is simplu human, like us all. That made it profoundly special.
Lovely writing, but three stars because it was all rather one-note - solemn, poetic. Some variation in tone over the range of essays (and a bit of humour, perhaps?) would have made this more successful as a collection.
A beautifully written collection of essays peppered with a multitude of intimate aspects of the human experience that many readers will relate to. I re-read lines over and over just for the sheer pleasure of the imagery and feeling. A new favorite.
Emotional. And so resonant with two of the most formative experiences of my life: becoming a parent and getting bullied at school. There's also a superb piece on the almost animalistic way female bodies are assessed socially and the toxic mindset this induces in industries where the body is the whole asset, e.g. acting and film. And many references to the otherworldly limbo of recent lockdowns, the way they have limited our lives but amplified moments of beauty. I particularly loved Langstone's vulnerability throughout, and feel moved to say a lot more than I have, but it's more important that get home to my kids and be their dad. So I'm content to just walk in the shadow of her words for now.
Adored this book of essays. Saw Michelle Langstone interview Trent Dalton at the Writers Festival and felt compelled to check out her book - didn’t realise until reading her author blurb that she was on McLeod’s Daughters?! Sensational. This book of personal essays deals with some of the heaviest themes - dads dying of cancer and infertility to name just two. Certainly not for everyone, but I loved it. A very truthful portrayal of grief. She writes beautifully.