Rozie Kelly’s frank and feisty debut novel, which has been shortlisted for this year’s Women’s prize for fiction, begins with a case of lust at first sight. Our unnamed narrator is a “beautiful” 35-year-old writer in a complicated but loving relationship with the equally beautiful but somewhat boring Michael. The object of his attentions is a famous poet, 17 years his senior, running a popular course at the same university that he, in a minor way, is also attached to. He hardly knows her, but he knows that he wants “to be inside her”. It’s all a bit of a shock. “A woman! What was the world coming to?”
So what’s so special about this one? Well, she’s smart, good-looking, well-dressed, not to mention rich and famous. It is this last fact that seems to exert, at least to begin with, the greatest hold over the infatuated narrator. “I wanted to be her, to be like her, to have her success and to know the people she knew.” But also, as he admits to himself as they sit quietly on a park bench watching the ducks, he would like to subjugate her, “to push her down, to render her imperious intelligence stupid with the weight of my body, with my younger, harder form”.
