Talking at Night by Clare Daverley

The quiet devastation of mental illness, the quiet hope of love.

THIS BOOK. I have to admit I was hesitant, as I’m not usually a romance book kinda gal unless it is rife with a ‘will-they-won’t-they’ tension; think Nick and Jess, Connell and Marianne, any couple you’re screaming at your laptop screen to just ‘get together already’. A good love story needs tragedy and ‘Talking at Night’ strikes the balance perfectly. The words that swim around my head while thinking about this book in its entirety are ‘achingly hopeful’, which may seem to completely counteract the point I just made, but stay with me. Rosie and Will first meet as teenagers in the heady arms of sixth form college, A levels and university applications. We follow them both for twenty years, as they weave in and out of each other's lives (I think this is where the narrative gains its ‘Normal People’ comparisons from), bound and scattered by tragedy. Although it is, at its core, a love story, Claire Daverley creates a catalogue of fully fleshed out characters, where so many writers would make this delicate relationship the sole backbone of the novel. Will and Rosie are each complex, multifaceted characters in their own rights and as we visit them over the years, we are able to learn more and more about them as individuals. Rosie suffers from OCD, a disorder that is rarely discussed in the literary world and Daverley offers a pitch perfect portrayal of the quiet devastation the illness can wreak on an individual’s life. Mental health is a focal point of the novel, with Will also struggling with depression and utilising unhealthy coping mechanisms to dull life’s aches - the writing is a testament to the silent destruction that is so often caused by mental illness, showing the reality of these struggles in an unflinching and constant light, but without the melodrama that we so often see accompanying portrayals of mental health in the media; the ‘main event’ doused in triggering imagery and violent descriptives. This isn’t to say such catastrophic and poignant portrayals aren’t valid and necessary - the world should absolutely see the knife edge so many sufferers live on and the reality too many people find themselves in, but I think where contemporary depictions of mental health often go wrong is only presenting their existence in this format. There is often little illustration of the turmoil before it reaches this head, so it is easy to view mental health in its extremities, or simply not at all. Claire Daverley writes mental health as it exists day to day - fluctuating, skulking in the shadows, sometimes hardly noticeable, other days raging so close to the skin. It is a testament to her ability that Will and Rosie’s existences are so profound that you leave the pages with them still wandering about in your mind, each such convoluted and authentic individuals. 

Although the novel grapples with the darker sides of existence, there is a thread of hope running throughout the story, bolstered by its lyrical prose. Friendship and love are the heart of ‘Talking at Night’, rooting the text in authenticity and aspirations. The story does not simply follow a relationship, it follows two separate people as they navigate the world and themselves, as they ebb and flow (a nod to the rhythmic writing here) and become, all the while falling in and out of each other's lives. Their relationship changes shape with them which is something so often remiss in modern romance writing - I’m tired of two dimensional love stories and this was anything but.