5 Books for Hard Times
When I first had the idea for this post, Coronavirus was still just a news story, something to be pushed to the very back of our collective consciousness — especially here in the UK, where for a moment it seemed as though those in power thought that a stiff British upper lip would be enough to overcome the virus. It had yet to become the out-and-out pandemic that we are currently living through, and had yet to place us all under a kind of house arrest. (Emphasis on the “kind of”. I am of course aware that we aren’t actually under house arrest.) No, when I first had the idea for 5 Books for Hard Times, life was still ostensibly normal, and the only hard times I was navigating were mine and mine alone.
On February 15th, a Saturday, my boyfriend and I broke up after almost a year together. I’m not going to go into detail, but I was and remain pretty crushed. The following Wednesday, after barely seventy-two hours with which to make sense of this devastating development, I was abruptly let go from my job at a vegan food company. And, although I’m sure my colleagues mitigated the impact of this as best they could, the whole episode nevertheless felt like a waking nightmare, something that I was watching happen to someone else. Even as someone who has experienced their share of heartache over the years, this sequence of events knocked me off my axis in a way that I’m not sure I had any precedent for. It is an experience I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, if indeed I had one.
Fast-forward a few months, and I believe it is safe to say that we are all going through hard times. I know many people have lost their jobs for one reason or another. I know of many relationships that are under strain, either due to the pressure of being in close proximity or, conversely, due to the distance enforced by lockdown. And then there are all sorts of other implications too numerous to mention. Whatever difficulties you are experiencing, or have experienced, I do hope that at least one of my 5 Books for Hard Times is able to offer you some perspective and comfort. Furthermore, if you have any suggestions of your own, I’d love for you to leave them in the comments below.
How to Fail: Everything I’ve Ever Learned From Things Going Wrong by Elizabeth Day
Although Elizabeth Day’s How to Fail was published off the back of the success of her podcast of the same name, I actually discovered them in the opposite order. Of the five titles I’ve included here, this is the one I read the most recently, and I doubt I could have come to it at a better time. It might have taken a little while to get into — perhaps because the aforementioned lockdown came into effect mere days after I started reading it — but once I got to what constitutes chapter three, How to Fail at Your Twenties, I was pretty much ensconced. If you’re dealing with something which you perceive to have been a failure of your own, be it personal or professional, this book will be a real tonic. By calling upon her own experiences, as well as those of many of her often high-profile interviewees, Day demonstrates that failure, or what we perceive to be failure, is a universal phenomenon that effectively unites us all.
Reasons to Stay Alive by Matt Haig
Of the 5 Books for Hard Times I’ve chosen, this is the one I find hardest to love, however it seemed churlish to leave it out as it is so beloved by so many. Like the Ronseal many people seem to be stockpiling right now (if the number of garden makeovers I’ve seen on my various social media feeds is anything to go by, that is), Reasons to Stay Alive very much does what it says on the tin…or cover. Although I am admittedly not the biggest fan of Matt Haig’s writing style, he has done such a good job of advancing the conversation around mental health that my stylistic preferences are probably of little consequence. In any event, this book is one of the most accessible resources on depression and anxiety currently in print, and it can be dipped into and out of with ease. I would recommend it most strongly to those with endogenous mental health issues that do not necessarily have a clear cause, as this is the perspective Haig writes from.
The Rules Do Not Apply by Ariel Levy
Ariel Levy’s The Rules Do Not Apply is not a self-help book, and it certainly doesn’t read like one, either. But I have nevertheless chosen to include it here as it is enormously affecting, and it will resonate deeply with anyone who is dealing with multiple blows at once. I read this book back in November, when everything was still seemingly normal both within and without my life, and was struck by Levy’s honesty and complete lack of self-pity in the face of immense personal tragedy. Although this is the furthest thing from an easy read, and you’ll probably feel somewhat winded after finishing it, it is an indispensable account of how, as much as we like to believe we are in the driver’s seat, our lives are not always one hundred percent ours to control. (Something I’m sure this global pandemic is showing us all…)
The Art of Not Falling Apart by Christina Patterson
I know I shouldn’t be playing favourites, but if I had to pick just one book out of the five I’ve shortlisted to read ad infinitum, this would be it. I happened upon Christina Patterson’s The Art of Not Falling Apart during a routine sweep of the Newcastle branch of Waterstones back in early March, at which point I was still very much the walking wounded, and after a quick glance at the blurb I concluded that I needed it in my life. It is one of the best and most timely purchases I’ve made in my life. Patterson, who was a columnist at The Independent for some ten years, conceived of The Art of Not Falling Apart as a rebuke of the traditional self-help book, so irritated had she become by their shtick in the wake of being made redundant from the paper. And, much like Elizabeth Day, she writes not only about her own experiences but those of countless others, and the result is a well-rounded, good-humoured look at the various ways we cope when life has, for want of a more elegant phrase, gone to shit.
A Manual for Heartache by Cathy Rentzenbrink
Although it has been more than two years since I read Cathy Rentzenbrink’s A Manual for Heartache, many of the images and stories therein have left an indelible mark on my mind, and indeed my heart. I almost chose not to include this here as it is predominantly preoccupied with grief (and, because grief is an entirely different beast, I have a whole separate list in the works) but, because Rentzenbrink deftly extrapolates what she has learned from grief to other kinds of heartache, it made sense to retain it. I will leave you with this passage, which can probably be applied to a number of distressing situations: “Perhaps heartbreak is what happens on impact, and heartache is what we are left with as time passes, once the dust settles, when we are able to look up and around us but are still shrouded in sadness.”
This certainly resonates with me. However, when the dust eventually settles on this strange moment in history, I do hope that we are all able to look up around us with some measure of hope and happiness, in spite of everything. If you’ve managed to read this far, thank you, and don’t forget to leave those suggestions!
This piece was originally published on Part Time Beauty in 2020.