Two Books Like Fleabag

The highest of compliments

I typically plan these newsletters for weeks, choosing a theme, reflecting on the stories I’ve enjoyed.

But today I finished a book that I loved, that consumed me entirely. The sort of book where I take on its mood for the 24 hours I read it. I snap at those around me, I just want to return to it, but also I don’t want it to be over.

Today I am writing and sending this.

Ann Patchett said of Sorrow and Bliss, “While I was reading it, I was making a list of all the people I wanted to send it to, until I realized I wanted to send it to everyone I know.”

I am not as generous as Ann. I want to send this book to everyone who will appreciate it and if that’s not you don’t talk to me! I want to live in this space just a bit longer, with those who feel it too.

Sorrow and Bliss by Meg Mason

Sorrow and Bliss tells the story of Martha, a British woman living with mental illness. She is big-hearted. She feels things deeply. She is odd and specific and sometimes mean and her mental illness has gone misdiagnosed for decades.

That's it. That’s the premise.

I’ve heard multiple people compare the book to Fleabag, which is about as high of a compliment as I can think to give a piece of art. 

(Read the comparisons here.)

This book deserves it.

Not that it’s Fleabag, of course it’s not, but it deserves the nod to a heartbreaking, layered, complicated, hysterical work. Because it is all of those things. 

It is deeply human. It is a love story. It is a sister story. It is completely engrossing and overwhelming and funny. I want everything I read to make me laugh, most especially the really hard things.

Sorrow and Bliss is my favorite book of the year.

(So far.)

I wrote down 23 quotes from this book. Here’s one for you:

“I’m the worst person in the world.”

No you’re not.” Patrick’s hand came down in a fist and he hit the arm of the sofa.

“You’re not the best person in the world either, which is what you really think. You’re the same as everybody else. But that’s harder for you, isn’t it. You’d rather be one or the other. The idea that you might be ordinary is unbearable.”

—

While on the topic of books like Fleabag, I have another to send your way.

Grown Ups by Emma Jane Unsworth

These books feel similar to me, perhaps because I read them within the same week so their nuances stand out. Or perhaps it’s simply because they were both reviewed and compared to Fleabag. 

(Four times on this page alone.)

I am not unique in my analysis.

Grown Ups by Emma Jane Unsworth also follows a woman dealing with her mental health. The tone is more manic. There are moments of Bridget Jones-like humor, that zingy laugh-out-loud British stuff I love so much.

The book starts with a very detailed description of a woman taking a picture of a croissant to post on Instagram. It goes on. And on.

At first I was not sure this would be the book for me. I don’t really need another look into how social media has ruined all of our lives.

Luckily for us all, Grown Ups starts here, in a place that feels familiar and then digs deeper. And deeper and deeper. It is not about the croissant or the post or even Instagram. It is about Jenny, about a life and mental health and the complicated ways relationships unfold.

I wrote down 33 (!) quotes from this book.

Here’s one for you:

“Sometimes I think about how many therapists in the world know about me and I feel sick with fame.”

And another:

“Jack Nicholson has been described as a ‘very social loner.’ I feel much the same way. I am happiest in my own company against a backdrop of general adoration. I want to be adored in my absence.”

And one final:

“Someone once commented on my column—apropos of nothing—YOU HAVE NO INTEGRITY. I am obsessed with whoever wrote that. How dare they be so right about me.”

Happy reading!