Domestic life

Portrait of an addict: Keshed, by Stu Hennigan, reviewed

In the tradition of literary lowlifes and lushes as conceived by Charles Bukowski or Jean Rhys, Keshed is a story about an alcoholic, with a distinctive 21st-century, northern English working-class setting. Formally inventive, the ‘now’ sections of the novel are not sentences but strings of words, effective and short: ‘Rancid liquid squirting chin soggy torso peristaltic rush rapid.’ One such section opens the book, setting the uncompromising tone. The protagonist, Sean (‘He was pissed when I met him and he hasn’t changed’), a bright, charismatic lad from an unnamed small Yorkshire town, has been to university in Manchester where he drank heavily. He then moved back home, and we meet him working as a plasterer, living to get smashed.

Lice combs, vaginal syringes and cesspits: at home in 17th century Holland

The room is dark, the lighting deliberately low. At its centre stands a solitary object: a yellow and green earthenware vessel decorated with biblical symbolism. It’s a fireguard – or ‘curfew’ – used to keep households safe as peat fire embers smouldered through the night. Around it is a mocked-up fireplace, conjuring up that liminal moment when everyone is still asleep and the day has yet to stir. Ths scene is set, the world outside silenced. This is how Amsterdam’s Rijksmuseum has chosen to answer one of its most frequently asked questions: what was daily life really like?