The Life of the Mind
While I’m not necessarily convinced of the benefits [for me] of reading a novel that stars a thoughtful protagonist who has a hard time shaking her neuroses because she possesses the kind of mind that seeks “deep” over “simple” and therefore forces her to analyze situations to an agonizingly detailed degree … I know that I sincerely can’t quit ‘em.
The Life of the Mind, debut novel by Christine Smallwood, feels like a cross between Want by Lynn Steger Strong, Practice by Rosalind Brown, Colored Television by Danzy Senna, and a bit of I Meant it Once by Kate Doyle. Adjunct professor? Check. Woman who is extremely sure-but-also-unsure of her talents? Check. Book that felt overly familiar to me but also foreign because perhaps I’ve reached the other side, age-wise, of some of the angst? Check.
It’s nice to see one’s inner thoughts reflected — and therefore confirmed — via a piece of literature. It’s also pretty nice to be able to shut the book, literally, on these thoughts at night. (Unless one’s mind can’t turn off … and then it’s all fair game.)
originally published on instagram