Olivia Downes

In the wake of her niece’s death, a writer travels with her family to Scotland, hoping the holiday will ease their pain. After tasting water from Skye’s natural Fairy Pools, the writer starts to feel not quite herself. It must be a fairy trick, she thinks, or perhaps her grief. She loses feeling in her legs and her grasp of language, but gains an odd new power: access to other creatures’ sensations. Watching her friend eat, she feels the food “slipping spoonful by spoonful inside her,” and picking a sunflower’s petals elicits a “tug in her own flesh.” Patricia Lockwood’s latest novel, Will There Ever Be Another You, charts the protagonist’s bizarre illness and recovery.

In Notes to John, Joan Didion’s ostensibly private record of three years’ therapy under psychiatrist Dr. Roger MacKinnon – one memory troubles her a great deal. When her daughter Quintana Roo Dunne was about seven, they watched the (wholly unsuitable) Night of the Living Dead, before Didion insisted Quintana accompany her to the kitchen at midnight. She pretended to be afraid for herself, but really she worried the glass doors of the living room made Quintana vulnerable to intruders. Reading this book sometimes feels like being the imagined predator lurking in the dark: we catch only a slice of the illuminated interior, and Didion behaves as if she isn’t being seen. By the end of 1999, Quintana, who was 33, had reached a new crisis point in her struggle with alcoholism.