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Mine hundre elskere
På sin 50- årsdag sitter Deborah og ser tilbake på sine ett hundre sensuelle eventyr. Etter at all kjærlighet, hat og fortvilelse er bearbeidet, sitter hun igjen med en dyp erkjennelse av å ha funnet seg selv. Hun ser tilbake, ikke bare på sine elskere, men også alt hun gjennom årene har opplevd som sensuelt. En sensuell og lyrisk roman som er skrevet med humor, glimt i øyet og en skarp penn.
251 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2012
4 people are currently reading
382 people want to read
About the author
Susan Johnson
258 books574 followersAnd it all began rather serendipitously. Long ago, as they say, in another time, when fast food hadn't reached our area and the only shopping was what the feed mill offered, I was reading a book that annoyed me .
My husband was lying beside me in bed, watching TV. Turning to him, I sort of petulantly said, "How the hell did this book get published?"
"If you think you're so smart," he replied, with one eye still on the TV, "why don't you write a book?"
So I did. And very badly.
I've since learned how to do, he said, she said, and a great variety of other adverb heavy, sometimes lengthy explanations of why my characters are saying what they're saying, along with finally coming to an understanding of what things like POV means. Point of View for you non-writers}.
Although, I still don't fully comprehend why it matters if you switch POV and I cavalierly disregard it as much as possible. So while my technical skills have hopefully improved, what hasn't changed is my great joy in writing. There's as much pleasure today in listening to my characters talk while I type as fast as I can, as there was the first time I put dialogue to paper--in long-hand, then, in my leather bound sketch-book.
My husband was lying beside me in bed, watching TV. Turning to him, I sort of petulantly said, "How the hell did this book get published?"
"If you think you're so smart," he replied, with one eye still on the TV, "why don't you write a book?"
So I did. And very badly.
I've since learned how to do, he said, she said, and a great variety of other adverb heavy, sometimes lengthy explanations of why my characters are saying what they're saying, along with finally coming to an understanding of what things like POV means. Point of View for you non-writers}.
Although, I still don't fully comprehend why it matters if you switch POV and I cavalierly disregard it as much as possible. So while my technical skills have hopefully improved, what hasn't changed is my great joy in writing. There's as much pleasure today in listening to my characters talk while I type as fast as I can, as there was the first time I put dialogue to paper--in long-hand, then, in my leather bound sketch-book.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 55 reviews
May 15, 2012
I enjoyed My Hundred Lovers. I recommend it to anyone who feels a little pale and dusty. There is life in these pages, enough, in fact, to take deep, invigorating draughts without exhausting the supply. I felt I was being invited into secret places, but not foreign places. Susan examines emotions, sensations and pleasures many of us will recognise. She teases out meaning from fleeting and now forgotten delights. The book moves gracefully and quickly, never stopping long in any one place, building a gorgeous picture of life with its loves and losses, friendships, self-delusions, introspections and joys. I read it in a couple of sittings, reading greedily. And when I was finished I lay it down and wandered off feeling as though my own past had been opened up and aired.
August 16, 2012
It had been a great trip to Melbourne with my mate. I had a ball in his company with our ‘adventures’ providing amusing entertainment fodder for my friends and family on my return. The following vignette is what led me to this book.
We rode on the good old No.96 from the city down to St Kilda to find a dining venue (being, as it turned out, the excellent Claypots where said mate became engrossed in the graffiti in the women’s loo – but that is another story for another place). Prior to exploring Acland Street to satisfy our hunger pangs, I took Nev to one of my favourite haunts on the strip, Readings Bookshop. As is my wont I quickly became engrossed amongst the tomes, taking my time to find exactly the right purchase, considering my frugal budget – Paul Carter’s excellent Vogel winning ‘Eleven Seasons’. After making my purchase I sought out my companion expecting to find him amidst the crime novels, but no, he was in the new releases seemingly engrossed in ‘My Hundred Lovers’, a racy title but known to me to be by an author of some worth, lauded for past product. I encouraged him to buy, but no, he deferred - perhaps because his budget was even less elastic than mine. We then continued on our way to culinary delight.
The title did, though, pique my interest, and soon complimentary reviews started to appear in the broadsheets, so I purchased locally.
The title is, in fact, somewhat of a misnomer for the word ‘lovers’, as defined by Susan Johnson, was as elastic as our Melbourne budgets weren’t on that St Kilda eve. Her book does indeed have one hundred chapters, vignettes also if you like, coalescing to form a loose biographical narrative. There were a goodly number of correctly defined lovers of various persuasions and gender – the shadow lover, the dissolute lover, the beach lover, the bottom lover – you get the idea. Her ‘other’ lovers took many forms – Mickey Dollenz of the Monkees in fantasy, cities such as Paris, Moreton Bay figs, a house, a dress and so on – thus stretching the term. Food and drink feature too, including, of course, coffee, gelato, chocolate and red wine. These can certainly be one’s lovers – several certainly love me!
We follow our guide through fifty odd years of infatuation, lust, temptation, flirtatiousness and despair, in a novel of truly lyrical prose as she wends her way across the seas and continents. There are ruminations on childbirth, marriage and death as well in a book to savour. It leads one to reflect on personal ‘lovers’, with the definition being as elastic as mood.
Susan Johnson’s protagonist, and one wonders how much is entirely fictional, certainly had a ‘lucky’ life despite its troughs – so many ‘adventures’, and often, as is the case here, last lovers are the ones certainly worth cherishing.
To complete the circle I will offer to pass the book on to my Melbourne trip friend of long standing, and will await his take on its contents should he deem to accept the loan. I am also hopeful we will again share other travelling adventures in the future to produce more tasty vignettes to treasure through our dotage.
We rode on the good old No.96 from the city down to St Kilda to find a dining venue (being, as it turned out, the excellent Claypots where said mate became engrossed in the graffiti in the women’s loo – but that is another story for another place). Prior to exploring Acland Street to satisfy our hunger pangs, I took Nev to one of my favourite haunts on the strip, Readings Bookshop. As is my wont I quickly became engrossed amongst the tomes, taking my time to find exactly the right purchase, considering my frugal budget – Paul Carter’s excellent Vogel winning ‘Eleven Seasons’. After making my purchase I sought out my companion expecting to find him amidst the crime novels, but no, he was in the new releases seemingly engrossed in ‘My Hundred Lovers’, a racy title but known to me to be by an author of some worth, lauded for past product. I encouraged him to buy, but no, he deferred - perhaps because his budget was even less elastic than mine. We then continued on our way to culinary delight.
The title did, though, pique my interest, and soon complimentary reviews started to appear in the broadsheets, so I purchased locally.
The title is, in fact, somewhat of a misnomer for the word ‘lovers’, as defined by Susan Johnson, was as elastic as our Melbourne budgets weren’t on that St Kilda eve. Her book does indeed have one hundred chapters, vignettes also if you like, coalescing to form a loose biographical narrative. There were a goodly number of correctly defined lovers of various persuasions and gender – the shadow lover, the dissolute lover, the beach lover, the bottom lover – you get the idea. Her ‘other’ lovers took many forms – Mickey Dollenz of the Monkees in fantasy, cities such as Paris, Moreton Bay figs, a house, a dress and so on – thus stretching the term. Food and drink feature too, including, of course, coffee, gelato, chocolate and red wine. These can certainly be one’s lovers – several certainly love me!
We follow our guide through fifty odd years of infatuation, lust, temptation, flirtatiousness and despair, in a novel of truly lyrical prose as she wends her way across the seas and continents. There are ruminations on childbirth, marriage and death as well in a book to savour. It leads one to reflect on personal ‘lovers’, with the definition being as elastic as mood.
Susan Johnson’s protagonist, and one wonders how much is entirely fictional, certainly had a ‘lucky’ life despite its troughs – so many ‘adventures’, and often, as is the case here, last lovers are the ones certainly worth cherishing.
To complete the circle I will offer to pass the book on to my Melbourne trip friend of long standing, and will await his take on its contents should he deem to accept the loan. I am also hopeful we will again share other travelling adventures in the future to produce more tasty vignettes to treasure through our dotage.
November 19, 2020
My Hundred Lovers by Susan Johnson is much more than a book about one woman's lovers. It is a sensual, sexual, bodily, journey about life, love (or lack thereof), and death. Johnson shares stories of the one-hundred lovers in her life, both men and women but also things, experiences and places. There are passages about sadness and loss, about happiness and just living in the now. Essentially, this book tells a story about life; because life is non-negotiabley entwined with sex and sensualness. I loved how personal this book felt like I was getting a private tour of times in someone's life - like a look behind the curtain of someone's existence. Definitely a highlight of my reading this year.
August 20, 2012
I disliked this book immensely as, for me, it had very few redeeming qualities about it. I was involved in the read-a-long with a couple of the other reviewers (Hi Bree and Marg!) and I was the devil's advocate for the group.
It is a very feminine book and I feel as though some parts were written sheerly for shock value.
It is a very feminine book and I feel as though some parts were written sheerly for shock value.
February 13, 2014
I wanted to like this book. I really did. I’d seen Susan Johnson speak at the Byron Bay Writer’s Festival and it inspired me to read it. Unfortunately, I was disappointed. Maybe I wasn’t in the right frame of mind when I tried it but I found it to be horribly clichéd and at times boring.
My hundred lovers is told from the perspective of Deborah, a woman on the brink of fifty who reflects back on 100 sensual experiences throughout her life. Despite the title, Deborah does not actually have 100 lovers but rather 100 loves which include things like chocolate, sunshine and her son. There is a lot of sexual content in the book but it is in no way erotic fiction. It’s an interesting concept and begs the questions ‘what would you include on your list of 100 great loves?’
The book is not written chronologically which might confuse or annoy some readers. It is written as a series of moments but if you read through the whole book you will start to make connections and piece together the protagonist’s life.
This might just be a reflection on my own cynicism but I could not relate to the central character. While I can look back on past relationships I would not apply any poetic language to describe them (or maybe I’m just not ready to). I can, however, see the poetic beauty in chocolate and sunshine and I thoroughly enjoyed reading about those moments. Again, this is all purely personal. Overall, it was an interesting book, just not for me.
My hundred lovers is told from the perspective of Deborah, a woman on the brink of fifty who reflects back on 100 sensual experiences throughout her life. Despite the title, Deborah does not actually have 100 lovers but rather 100 loves which include things like chocolate, sunshine and her son. There is a lot of sexual content in the book but it is in no way erotic fiction. It’s an interesting concept and begs the questions ‘what would you include on your list of 100 great loves?’
The book is not written chronologically which might confuse or annoy some readers. It is written as a series of moments but if you read through the whole book you will start to make connections and piece together the protagonist’s life.
This might just be a reflection on my own cynicism but I could not relate to the central character. While I can look back on past relationships I would not apply any poetic language to describe them (or maybe I’m just not ready to). I can, however, see the poetic beauty in chocolate and sunshine and I thoroughly enjoyed reading about those moments. Again, this is all purely personal. Overall, it was an interesting book, just not for me.
June 24, 2012
My Hundred Lovers is written by Aussie author Susan Johnson and I've been reading it as part of an Allen & Unwin read-along, and you can read more about my experience on my blog.
The premise of the book is a woman turning fifty who reflects on her life and sorts through her body's memories. In 100 chapters, the woman - who refers to herself throughout the novel as 'the girl', Deb and 'the Suspicious Wanderer' - gives us her one hundred lovers; in essence one hundred sensual memories.
From first glance at the title, a potential reader might assume the main character to have had one hundred sexual lovers, however this is not the case. Deb's sensual memories do include lovers, however they also include other physical memories such as the love of croissants, riding a horse, the sensation of her mother's red fingernails scratching her back or the feel of raindrops on her face.
Each chapter is a vignette, a glimpse into Deb's life and the chapters are not always in strict chronological order. This is a personal and at times revealing piece of fiction and Deb is very open and honest when reflecting on her physical intimacy with her lovers; men and women. At times sexy, at times a little confronting but nevertheless it was moving throughout as it followed the path of Deb's exploration of self.
While reading this book I couldn't help but begin to think of my own physical memories, what would my own list contain if I were to create one in the same style? I would definitely include the smell of fresh cut grass, and the glorious sensation of getting into a bed warmed by an electric blanket on a chilly night.
Deb left one of her most important relationships until the very end of the book, the revealing of which drew a surprised and sad groan from me. This was clever writing and left me wanting more. The read-along definitely enhanced my enjoyment of the book and if the above has piqued your interest I definitely recommend My Hundred Lovers for your reading pleasure.
The premise of the book is a woman turning fifty who reflects on her life and sorts through her body's memories. In 100 chapters, the woman - who refers to herself throughout the novel as 'the girl', Deb and 'the Suspicious Wanderer' - gives us her one hundred lovers; in essence one hundred sensual memories.
From first glance at the title, a potential reader might assume the main character to have had one hundred sexual lovers, however this is not the case. Deb's sensual memories do include lovers, however they also include other physical memories such as the love of croissants, riding a horse, the sensation of her mother's red fingernails scratching her back or the feel of raindrops on her face.
Each chapter is a vignette, a glimpse into Deb's life and the chapters are not always in strict chronological order. This is a personal and at times revealing piece of fiction and Deb is very open and honest when reflecting on her physical intimacy with her lovers; men and women. At times sexy, at times a little confronting but nevertheless it was moving throughout as it followed the path of Deb's exploration of self.
While reading this book I couldn't help but begin to think of my own physical memories, what would my own list contain if I were to create one in the same style? I would definitely include the smell of fresh cut grass, and the glorious sensation of getting into a bed warmed by an electric blanket on a chilly night.
Deb left one of her most important relationships until the very end of the book, the revealing of which drew a surprised and sad groan from me. This was clever writing and left me wanting more. The read-along definitely enhanced my enjoyment of the book and if the above has piqued your interest I definitely recommend My Hundred Lovers for your reading pleasure.
August 15, 2012
Who were the greatest loves of your life? The ones that awakened every sense? The ones that you still dream about from time to time, fantasise about? The ones that you could encounter after years of absence and still get a tingle in the pit of your stomach? Did you appreciate that distinct buzz of a special love at the time you had it in your life, or is the memory perhaps sweeter than the reality?
Deborah is nearing her 50th birthday. She is processing her past and her future from this vantage point on the other side of mid-life. She is haunted by the numbness of experience she observed in the final years of her mother’s and grandmother’s lives – their loss of memory, but also their loss of physical sensations. She notes that along with the ageing of the mind comes the ageing of the senses: our palate may crave a simpler diet, fabric is harsher against sensitive skin, our eyes and ears can no longer offer a sharp snapshot of our environment. She is determined to reflect on her life as a journey of feelings, not just as a series of events. “Tick-tock, tick-tock, the body remembers” – the touching, the tasting, the hearing, the seeing, the smelling of 50 years of womanhood.
My Hundred Lovers gives us an intimate portrait of one character through the detailed illustration of the most influential sensory experiences of her life. It is blunt and unapologetic in its discussion of the unloveliness of the human body and the awkwardness of self-discovery. It is a poetic and literary novel that deftly expresses the fundamental human fear of the inevitable end of life and reminds us to appreciate every taste, every sound, lest one day we are no longer able to enjoy them. “Every day unique in its details, already passing, vanishing, like breath”.
An extended review can be read at http://thischarmingmum.com
Deborah is nearing her 50th birthday. She is processing her past and her future from this vantage point on the other side of mid-life. She is haunted by the numbness of experience she observed in the final years of her mother’s and grandmother’s lives – their loss of memory, but also their loss of physical sensations. She notes that along with the ageing of the mind comes the ageing of the senses: our palate may crave a simpler diet, fabric is harsher against sensitive skin, our eyes and ears can no longer offer a sharp snapshot of our environment. She is determined to reflect on her life as a journey of feelings, not just as a series of events. “Tick-tock, tick-tock, the body remembers” – the touching, the tasting, the hearing, the seeing, the smelling of 50 years of womanhood.
My Hundred Lovers gives us an intimate portrait of one character through the detailed illustration of the most influential sensory experiences of her life. It is blunt and unapologetic in its discussion of the unloveliness of the human body and the awkwardness of self-discovery. It is a poetic and literary novel that deftly expresses the fundamental human fear of the inevitable end of life and reminds us to appreciate every taste, every sound, lest one day we are no longer able to enjoy them. “Every day unique in its details, already passing, vanishing, like breath”.
An extended review can be read at http://thischarmingmum.com
July 21, 2016
My Hundred Lovers, by Queensland author Susan Johnson, is prose made poetry. In one hundred chapters, the protagonist chronicles one hundred sensual loves of her life, from physical pleasures such as fresh grass, cool mud squishing through toes, and the glory of flight, to foodie loves such as coffee, wine and croissants, to the sexual delights of lovers, the comfort of friends and family, the wonder of children, and the love of objects such as houses and countries. This book is a joy to read - a hedonistic menu of simple and complex pleasures, an ode to the manifestations of love in all its forms.
Susan once again delights with her trademark language - beautiful imagery and astute observations:
'(Her father)...seduces her into a world of sexually incontinent, feckless men, so that for many years the only men she finds attractive will betray her.'
'But fear should evoke our gratitude for its ability to reveal us to ourselves. Fear reveals the things we love, and without it to tell us what it is we find most precious, we might never know what we love at all.'
'Where will her own pictures go? Who but she apprehends the world with her particular eyes, grasping at it with her ten particular fingers and ten particular toes? What body but hers bears these unique scars, the story of a life made manifest? No self without a body, no body without a remembering self to animate it.'
The narrator's sensory memory is history made palpable. This is a book to savour.
Susan once again delights with her trademark language - beautiful imagery and astute observations:
'(Her father)...seduces her into a world of sexually incontinent, feckless men, so that for many years the only men she finds attractive will betray her.'
'But fear should evoke our gratitude for its ability to reveal us to ourselves. Fear reveals the things we love, and without it to tell us what it is we find most precious, we might never know what we love at all.'
'Where will her own pictures go? Who but she apprehends the world with her particular eyes, grasping at it with her ten particular fingers and ten particular toes? What body but hers bears these unique scars, the story of a life made manifest? No self without a body, no body without a remembering self to animate it.'
The narrator's sensory memory is history made palpable. This is a book to savour.
January 26, 2013
Another Australian novel; it starts off really interesting then becomes to some extent cliched dreck with quite a bit of racism and uses marginalised people as rhetorical figures to add interest to the beige central character.
In the 2012 Best American Short Fiction's prologue or whatever, the editor said that good stories should transcend a person's singular life and pay attention to politics and wider events as well. This is wise, but the clumsy and non-integrated way that major Australian and overseas political and world events shape the narrative really annoyed me at times. I detested how she wrote about the women's liberation movement and especially about HIV/AIDS; the latter was incredibly ill-researched and it was very inappropriate to focalise HIV/AIDS through the central character.
Also the copy editor made a mistake on page 298. Good day.
In the 2012 Best American Short Fiction's prologue or whatever, the editor said that good stories should transcend a person's singular life and pay attention to politics and wider events as well. This is wise, but the clumsy and non-integrated way that major Australian and overseas political and world events shape the narrative really annoyed me at times. I detested how she wrote about the women's liberation movement and especially about HIV/AIDS; the latter was incredibly ill-researched and it was very inappropriate to focalise HIV/AIDS through the central character.
Also the copy editor made a mistake on page 298. Good day.
February 23, 2013
Susan Johnson's writing is restrained, poetic and at times, uncomfortably honest - she writes as a fifty year old woman looking back on the things and people she has loved.You have to be prepared to let the story unfold, as small observations and as a disjointed narrative.
There is some amazing writing in there - to quote "She was with Celestine one late spring day when she met the man she knew she would marry.The knowledge came to her body first, a sensation that felt like intuition, a knowingness, a feeling of great calm and certainty.At the same time she experienced a rush, a tilt of the earth, much like the feeling that followed the first drag of a cigarette when she had not smoked for a long time..... she looked at her future husband, and her future husband looked back, and everything they needed to know about each other passed between them."
There is some amazing writing in there - to quote "She was with Celestine one late spring day when she met the man she knew she would marry.The knowledge came to her body first, a sensation that felt like intuition, a knowingness, a feeling of great calm and certainty.At the same time she experienced a rush, a tilt of the earth, much like the feeling that followed the first drag of a cigarette when she had not smoked for a long time..... she looked at her future husband, and her future husband looked back, and everything they needed to know about each other passed between them."
August 10, 2013
The main character is determined to reflect on her life as a journey of feelings, not just as a series of events. “Tick-tock, tick-tock, the body remembers” – the touching, the tasting, the hearing, the seeing, the smelling of 50 years of womanhood. The book was so poetic and beautifully written. Brutally honest and raw with the human emotions and different types of love. I really enjoyed this book and would reccomend it to anyone who loves life or wants to love life a little more. Get a new perspective.
If you're not fond of unusual structure, this isn't for you since it jumps from first person to third person and is not written chromatically, but if you are open to an author's experimenting and you enjoy lyrical writing, get this book.
If you're not fond of unusual structure, this isn't for you since it jumps from first person to third person and is not written chromatically, but if you are open to an author's experimenting and you enjoy lyrical writing, get this book.
July 28, 2015
Two stars for the theme. The style of presentation made it less interesting atleast for me as a reader. Ms. Johnson wrote it probably as a memoir, for her pleasure, just like her own personal photo album that she can only relate and appreciate the details of each memory. So many lovers, so many different personas, too many issues, dramas, successes, joys --- i did not feel, and did not understand.
Another overrated book. I recommended this book to a friend based on the reviews, now am taking it back. :-)
Another overrated book. I recommended this book to a friend based on the reviews, now am taking it back. :-)
July 14, 2012
I loved this book, it is delightful & beautiful to read.
I enjoyed how Susan explored a woman's history or I could say herstory through the ecstatic highs, painful lows and unconscious complexities of her body. It felt like Susan was exploring an idea (the body's narrative that is not bound by linear time)and wrapped it within a fictional based narrative that moved easily between time and place.
I enjoyed how Susan explored a woman's history or I could say herstory through the ecstatic highs, painful lows and unconscious complexities of her body. It felt like Susan was exploring an idea (the body's narrative that is not bound by linear time)and wrapped it within a fictional based narrative that moved easily between time and place.
May 7, 2014
It started off well enough, but by the end it's unnecessarily repetitive self-indulgence. I'd grown bored a third of the way in, and left it sitting on my bedside table for months before I got fed up and read the rest this week. So much promise, such little follow through - which is very frustrating because there are some beautiful passages in there. It's a book I want to love, but which falls so far short of the mark it promises that I just can't.
December 7, 2012
Did not enjoy the mix of first person and third person narrative. Jumped around too much in time. Did not flow well and felt that it was written as a pompous show off of words rather than the telling a story.
I can see how some would say it is poetic writing - but there was no substance to it.
Finished the last page and thought 'what a waste of time'.
I can see how some would say it is poetic writing - but there was no substance to it.
Finished the last page and thought 'what a waste of time'.
December 27, 2013
A fairly quick read filled with very short chapters outlining all the loves of "Deb's" life from her family, to chocolate, to rain, to her car, to her various partners, etc etc. Not particularly profound or life changing but an engaging read that you will very much fly through, and by an Australian author too.
December 9, 2012
What an exquisite book. I read it slowly because I didn't want it to end. One of the best books I've read this year.
September 13, 2025
Could not finish this book, her vocabulary was so obnoxious and pretentious, could have said the same thing BETTER with fewer words! Also the desperation for shock value was creepy. Constantly touching on and leaning toward incest, the inconsistent description of a boring untroubled life and then her mother holds a knife to her throat when drunk because her dad had fucked another woman? Weird. Unnecessary, and even if it is autobiographical, the preamble is misleading and therefore super annoying. Keep in mind I did not even get to page 20. The kind of book that’s so weird and bad it’s genuinely frustrating.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 14, 2023
The prose of this fictional memoir was quite nice. The author writes 100 brief moments significant to the character. These vignettes read in sequence form an impression of a life (rather than a developed narrative). Some moments were a little too contrived to shock and the tone did not have the variety for me.
November 11, 2018
I appreciate this from an artistic point of view, but I think I'm just too prudish to say I enjoyed it. A lot of the things felt very unnecessary to sexualise, and made me rather uncomfortable.
My favourite was the croissant passage; very relatable.
My favourite was the croissant passage; very relatable.
August 4, 2017
Beautifully written. Only for the bold!
January 10, 2019
A good book to read before bed, with short somewhat standalone chapters. I enjoyed the way that Johnson explored how the people and things we love shape our lived experiences.
February 12, 2022
An unexpected joy. I couldn't have loved this book more.
May 15, 2017
During the daily grind, we rarely pause to appreciate the small joys that life has to offer. My Hundred Lovers is literary fiction that celebrates these pleasures. At the age of 50, protagonist Deborah looks back on 100 moments from her lifetime of sensual exploration. These moments include everything from erotic encounters to the memory of her mother’s red fingernails. All prove how a woman’s head, heart, and body make one perfectly imperfect whole. This is a book about the raw beauty of life and love without cliché.
The chapters are numbered one to 100, each dedicated to a love as the novel’s title suggests. Deborah’s story unravels in a collection of memories, without sticking to chronological order. As each moment stands alone as a poignant vignette, you have the option to savour My Hundred Lovers a chapter at a time. Personally, I wouldn’t have the willpower to put the book down. Susan Johnson’s writing became my air until I finished the final word.
Nothing exceptional happens to Deborah, but her intense engagement with life results in an intensely sensory reader experience. Each of Deborah’s 100 moments evokes an ordinary experience that most people will instantly empathise with, and unveils a world of beauty we are usually too busy to see. Deborah’s memory of freshly baked croissants, her wonderment over something insignificant, strikes me as inspiring and beautiful.
My Hundred Lovers has an unusual narrative style. Although Deborah is our first person narrator for much of the novel, some chapters shift to third person. Whilst we are inside Deborah’s head, we are immersed in her world. In contrast, the third person sections are much more detached. I experienced that this combination of intimacy and distance helped me to stay reflective as a self-aware reader; instead of getting lost in her story, Deborah’s experiences triggered my own self-reflection.
Deborah’s story is often confronting, Johnson’s commitment to brutal honesty means that My Hundred Lovers contains explicit sex scenes and challenging themes. For this reason, it is recommended only for adult readers. However, these scenes and themes always develop plot and character, and are handled with nostalgic tenderness.
My Hundred Lovers is also a love affair with language. Readers who appreciate beautiful writing will swoon over this book. I could sense that every sentence was deliberately placed to form a tight and compelling narrative. The writing has a unique, lyrical rhythm. Johnson always finds a way to articulate even the most complicated sensations, avoiding the typical clichés. This book reawakened my love of language.
This review was originally published in The Australia Times Books Magazine Volume 4 Issue 4
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
The chapters are numbered one to 100, each dedicated to a love as the novel’s title suggests. Deborah’s story unravels in a collection of memories, without sticking to chronological order. As each moment stands alone as a poignant vignette, you have the option to savour My Hundred Lovers a chapter at a time. Personally, I wouldn’t have the willpower to put the book down. Susan Johnson’s writing became my air until I finished the final word.
Nothing exceptional happens to Deborah, but her intense engagement with life results in an intensely sensory reader experience. Each of Deborah’s 100 moments evokes an ordinary experience that most people will instantly empathise with, and unveils a world of beauty we are usually too busy to see. Deborah’s memory of freshly baked croissants, her wonderment over something insignificant, strikes me as inspiring and beautiful.
“And then there is the croissant. Such a brief, perishing object! So full of life, yet as evanescent as the most fragile butterfly, dead by day’s end, its flowering over within hours. Le feuilletage, layer upon layer of pastry animated by yeast, alive with butter, rolled and folded as carefully as an old-fashioned handwritten letter.”
My Hundred Lovers has an unusual narrative style. Although Deborah is our first person narrator for much of the novel, some chapters shift to third person. Whilst we are inside Deborah’s head, we are immersed in her world. In contrast, the third person sections are much more detached. I experienced that this combination of intimacy and distance helped me to stay reflective as a self-aware reader; instead of getting lost in her story, Deborah’s experiences triggered my own self-reflection.
Deborah’s story is often confronting, Johnson’s commitment to brutal honesty means that My Hundred Lovers contains explicit sex scenes and challenging themes. For this reason, it is recommended only for adult readers. However, these scenes and themes always develop plot and character, and are handled with nostalgic tenderness.
My Hundred Lovers is also a love affair with language. Readers who appreciate beautiful writing will swoon over this book. I could sense that every sentence was deliberately placed to form a tight and compelling narrative. The writing has a unique, lyrical rhythm. Johnson always finds a way to articulate even the most complicated sensations, avoiding the typical clichés. This book reawakened my love of language.
This review was originally published in The Australia Times Books Magazine Volume 4 Issue 4
This review can also be found on my blog Paige's Pages.
June 23, 2012
I am reading My Hundred Lovers (courtesy Allen & Unwin) as part of a read-a-long hosted by Bree at All The Books I Can Read over the next three weeks. Please be aware that it is likely that in answering the discussion questions, I will reveal spoilers. Read at your own risk!
Discussion Pages 1-88
Discussion Pages 89-172
Summary Pages 173-end
While fiction, My Hundred Lovers reads as if a confessional memoir- brief memories of physical and emotional awareness from the taste of a fresh croissant, her first knee trembling orgasm at the hand of a boy to the difficulty of her childhood as the daughter of an adulterous father and a narcissistic mother. I think its important to point out that the title is not literal – the chapters are not devoted to one hundred lovers – but the sense memories of moments of pleasure and pain. There is sexual content, quite explicit as times, but the novel is interspersed with descriptions of moments such as the feel of mud oozing between her toes, or the scent of fresh bread baking.
This is not a traditional story, the snippets vary in length, each loosely linked to the next give some form to the narrative yet not linear, moving forwards and back in time at will and it can feel a little disjointed and I do usually prefer a more structured narrative. I can certainly appreciate the rich imagery and lyrical nature of the text, she writes beautifully of the small things that give us such pleasure.
For much of her life Deborah is hedonistic, tangling visceral reaction with emotion. Her inability to separate sex from love, pleasure from punishment, sees her make choices that erodes her self esteem. She uses her body to search for intimacy, certain that she is too damaged to love, or be loved, for more than the physical succor she can offer. It seems to me that it is her son’s birth that is a turning point for Deborah, her body perhaps finally sated by the experience. She writes of one lover after the collapse of her marriage, ‘the kind lover’, and what can be inferred is that Deborah relates to this man emotionally instead of physically, perhaps for the first time in her life. Deborah’s final lover could be said to be herself, having finally found some measure of wholeness, “My body, mine at last.” .
Overall I appreciated this book more than enjoyed it. There are insights that resonate with truth and wisdom but I also find it a little pretentious. The read-a-long has been a good experience though, and I have found the discussions interesting. Thanks Bree, for hosting.
Discussion Pages 1-88
Discussion Pages 89-172
Summary Pages 173-end
While fiction, My Hundred Lovers reads as if a confessional memoir- brief memories of physical and emotional awareness from the taste of a fresh croissant, her first knee trembling orgasm at the hand of a boy to the difficulty of her childhood as the daughter of an adulterous father and a narcissistic mother. I think its important to point out that the title is not literal – the chapters are not devoted to one hundred lovers – but the sense memories of moments of pleasure and pain. There is sexual content, quite explicit as times, but the novel is interspersed with descriptions of moments such as the feel of mud oozing between her toes, or the scent of fresh bread baking.
This is not a traditional story, the snippets vary in length, each loosely linked to the next give some form to the narrative yet not linear, moving forwards and back in time at will and it can feel a little disjointed and I do usually prefer a more structured narrative. I can certainly appreciate the rich imagery and lyrical nature of the text, she writes beautifully of the small things that give us such pleasure.
For much of her life Deborah is hedonistic, tangling visceral reaction with emotion. Her inability to separate sex from love, pleasure from punishment, sees her make choices that erodes her self esteem. She uses her body to search for intimacy, certain that she is too damaged to love, or be loved, for more than the physical succor she can offer. It seems to me that it is her son’s birth that is a turning point for Deborah, her body perhaps finally sated by the experience. She writes of one lover after the collapse of her marriage, ‘the kind lover’, and what can be inferred is that Deborah relates to this man emotionally instead of physically, perhaps for the first time in her life. Deborah’s final lover could be said to be herself, having finally found some measure of wholeness, “My body, mine at last.” .
Overall I appreciated this book more than enjoyed it. There are insights that resonate with truth and wisdom but I also find it a little pretentious. The read-a-long has been a good experience though, and I have found the discussions interesting. Thanks Bree, for hosting.
March 16, 2013
I loved the idea of this book, what a fantastic way to remember various parts of your life, like random snapshots of yourself shown haphazardly in no real order.
It was a sensory experience reading this "That afternoon in the small bedroom the light was blue. The curtains were cream and blew softly in the wind. There was a cry, far off, almost out of earshot. There was a man in my bed and I did not know how he got there." and we were shown a glimpse in to the life that belonged to Deborah, a normal 'young girl' who wasn't shown how to value herself other than through her body.
It is a work of fiction but Johnson writes so honestly and with so much personality that for the first part of the book I thought it was a memoir - It felt like I was reading her private diary, lyrical and poetically written mini memories, sometime sweet, sometimes surprisingly bitter.
A book most would enjoy and gain something from on an individual level, especially if you like looking in through the window into other peoples lives.
It was a sensory experience reading this "That afternoon in the small bedroom the light was blue. The curtains were cream and blew softly in the wind. There was a cry, far off, almost out of earshot. There was a man in my bed and I did not know how he got there." and we were shown a glimpse in to the life that belonged to Deborah, a normal 'young girl' who wasn't shown how to value herself other than through her body.
It is a work of fiction but Johnson writes so honestly and with so much personality that for the first part of the book I thought it was a memoir - It felt like I was reading her private diary, lyrical and poetically written mini memories, sometime sweet, sometimes surprisingly bitter.
A book most would enjoy and gain something from on an individual level, especially if you like looking in through the window into other peoples lives.
August 12, 2012
About fifty pages into this I thought of Jeanette Wintersons' "Written on the Body" which is kinda funny cos I'd read that almost twenty years ago and I was surprised I'd remember anything from twenty years ago times being what they were, but such is the power of memory, stored like precious seeds til nudged gently into fertile ground. And this is the very essence of this surprising little novel. Susan Johnsons character Deb gently recalls her Myriad 'lovers' with such grace and tenderness that we become wrapped in them like a web of sorts escaping finally into an understanding of how memories shape us and how we are eternally marked by them.
A very intimate tale of a womans unfolding. Lovely.
A very intimate tale of a womans unfolding. Lovely.
Read
September 2, 2012This book deserves to be on the '50 books you can't put down list'! I took it to bed last night and couldn't turn out the light till I reached the end.
As other reviewers have said, it's not what you expect from the title. Her loves are so many people, places and things. That perfect dress worn till it was threadbare, the smell of coffee and fresh cut grass, the giggle of her little sister, wine.....everything! Every love, even 'fresh sheets', my personal very favorite thing in the world!!
Ok, there were also the lovers, strange and beautiful.
Highly recommend this book, awakens ones senses to the daily pleasures we sometimes take for granted.
As other reviewers have said, it's not what you expect from the title. Her loves are so many people, places and things. That perfect dress worn till it was threadbare, the smell of coffee and fresh cut grass, the giggle of her little sister, wine.....everything! Every love, even 'fresh sheets', my personal very favorite thing in the world!!
Ok, there were also the lovers, strange and beautiful.
Highly recommend this book, awakens ones senses to the daily pleasures we sometimes take for granted.
February 27, 2014
The title of this book suggests pages full of raunchy sexual detail but this is a wonderfully sensual, funny and poignant reflection of an older woman and the 'loves' of her life.
These include the love of coffee, of a house of the attraction to birds as well as family and lovers of both sexes.
The language is poetic and earthy at the same time and although many chapters are just fragments of memories, of thoughts and recollections they amount to a whole life story told in the realistic flashback, immediately familiar to people who have lived more than a century and can look back in a kind of wonder.
These include the love of coffee, of a house of the attraction to birds as well as family and lovers of both sexes.
The language is poetic and earthy at the same time and although many chapters are just fragments of memories, of thoughts and recollections they amount to a whole life story told in the realistic flashback, immediately familiar to people who have lived more than a century and can look back in a kind of wonder.
December 19, 2015
Susan Johnson's prose is exquisite, but this book didn't have a particularly thrilling plot (nor did it advertise itself to have one!) The thrill was in the reading, and in the untangling of the poetry Johnson writes. Her words are just magic. In saying this, it did take over six months to finish it, just because I picked it up and put it down again about 8 times, and while that didn't make much difference to keeping up (as it were) with the story, it did feel like a bit of a wading-through-mud situation by the end.
For anyone who loves Gabriel Garcia Marquez or Vladimir Nabokov's style.
For anyone who loves Gabriel Garcia Marquez or Vladimir Nabokov's style.
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