A review by frogwithlittlehammer
Pond by Claire-Louise Bennett

funny reflective

4.25

Exactly what I would expect from an uprooted (by her own volition) British woman with two uppity first names. Many people would read this and think she was a bit depressed or at least extremely disillusioned with life, that she has a less than ideal relationship with drinking, and that one ought to get a fountain pen. I would say to those people: no*, maybe**, definitely***. It was a scary read at times, because she was thinking the things I have thought and consequentially wrote the novella that I wish I would have written. But of course it was flawlessly executed, except the last couple of stories where I lost some interest but still, it was an immersive read which played around with linear time in subtly amusing ways. Fitzcarraldo knows how to pick freakish women who leave the best impressions. 

*no, because if the answer was yes that would mean I was depressed and I have solidly determined with the help of no one else that that is just not that case anymore and that I am just apathetic. Me and Miss Claire-Louise are apathetic for the same reason that French people whine in perpetuity; that is, as a side effect of living in an incomprehensible and unjust late-capitalist world. 

**maybe, because I have been thinking lately if I shouldn’t approach drinking alcohol like I have been doing in Paris. That is, early in the day before work, alone on an empty stomach, and as a means to be able to get things done with more ease. 

***definitely, because after her passage about fountain pens I started to fantasize about collecting stains from royal and algae ish and despicably bloody inks because, as opposed to food and grease stains, I guess I find ink stains are indulgent and refined. So I bought from passage Molière a little German number, swampy green with gold inscription and nib, that pops right into the pocket of my purse (or my pants!) and I hope great sappy things will flow out of it.