Thirsty Sea by Erica Mou (tr. Clarissa Botsford)
Review by Rachel Farmer
‘Today it’s twenty-five years since I killed my sister.’
After an intriguing opening chapter that introduces the protagonist Maria and provides a brief glimpse into the often strange workings of her mind, this explosive line catapults the reader into the heart of the story, with a sudden understanding of what is at stake. Thirsty Sea, written by Italian singer-songwriter Erica Mou and translated by Clarissa Botsford, is the first offering from newly minted publishing house Héloïse Press, which promises contemporary women’s narratives that subvert expectations and delight the senses. And this beautiful debut does just that, interweaving its unconventional storytelling with fragments of poetry that mirror the narrative and seem to spring unbidden from the narrator’s mind.
On the surface, Maria seems to eke out a (more or less) typical millennial existence: a steady boyfriend with whom she is contemplating marriage and a future (though she isn’t quite convinced); a ground floor apartment; a fraught relationship with her mother; a quirky, out-of-the-box business recommending gift ideas to strangers; a best friend on the other side of the world. The present-day narrative of a single, pivotal day in her life is interspersed with reminiscences about her past and her interactions with others, allowing the reader to slowly build a picture of Maria as a character, with all her secrets and flaws.
Central to the story is her relationship with her boyfriend Nicola—who she is irresistibly drawn to and repulsed by in equal measure—and this underpins our understanding of Maria as a character. Her descriptions of their everyday life—their daily dishwasher disputes, their imaginary dog, their bickering about the best type of chocolate—seem to paint a portrait of a long-term, loving relationship in all its imperfect glory. But beneath the surface is a lingering unease, a constant questioning of whether this life is what she wants, or what she—a woman convinced of her own murderous nature—deserves.
As the story unfurls, the undercurrent of Maria’s whirring thoughts beats a constant, cyclical rhythm that ties everything together. She is fascinated by compound words—rain-bow, strong-hold, dead-pan—and sees no point in thinking about the things she is doing or seeing in the moment. Notably, as she and her boyfriend make love for the first time, she thinks about the months of the year and recites in her head the mnemonic device for remembering how many days each has. Though divulged with a witty frankness, this proclivity of hers hints at a deeper disquiet. Is this a harmless personality quirk or another way of avoiding truly experiencing the joy and fulfilment she feels she doesn’t deserve?
These thoughts of hers are often strikingly at odds with external events, at times demonstrating a level of detachment bordering on psychopathic. As her boyfriend Nicola breaks down at the death of his father, Maria contemplates the surprising deliciousness of the éclair she is eating. Time and again, these thoughts subvert the expected, and highlight the rift between the daily life she performs for others and the inner life unfolding inside her mind. Though it has been impressed upon her many times that she is not responsible for her sister’s death, which occurred when they were both young children, Maria cannot be convinced, and this rejection of others’ view of things only drives the wedge deeper, isolating her from those around her.
Yet, despite its often dark subject-matter, the novel is an effortless joy to read, and Mou’s instinctive flair for all things musical shines through in the tone and rhythm of her writing. As the story reaches its climax, the writing grows increasingly frantic, experimenting with format and spiralling into a disjointed frenzy, mirroring the chaos in Maria’s psyche.
Muddled, unlikeable, inscrutable—the character of Maria embodies the messier, more morally ambiguous facets of womanhood. With this book, which will appeal to fans of Jenny Offill and Meg Mason, Mou joins the ranks of contemporary female authors unafraid to delve into the uncomfortable and unsettling. Ultimately, with this moving portrait of a woman in pain, Mou has penned a visceral exploration of trauma, relationships, family, grief and healing. I can’t wait to see what Héloïse Press publishes next.