PRACTICE

A novel about a day in the life of a studious Oxford undergraduate.

Annabel rises at the crack of dawn and readies herself to write a paper about Shakespeare’s sonnets. As she reads the poems, she recalls the advice of her tutor, a medievalist, to “spend as many hours as [she] could simply sitting with the text.…Look away from the text and out the window if you have to, try and pause your mind on the one thing. Focus on the experience of you reading this text now.” Brown’s gorgeously written debut is a hypnotic meditation on being attentive—on Annabel’s attempts to wrestle meaning out of Shakespeare’s poetry on this particular day and to establish a strict routine that will elevate her mind above everything else more generally. The only problem is that Annabel is human. She glances out the window and “holy shit”—the world is shrouded in mist and she’s pulled away from the sonnets to go for a walk; she must concede to bodily functions; she needs coffee; she’s cold or hungry or distracted by the thought of Rich, an older family friend who is pursuing her. In a sneaky way, the novel makes a passionate argument for distraction: While Annabel fanatically tries to discipline herself into being uber-focused, her imagination leads her astray again and again, especially toward figures she’s invented, in particular the “SCHOLAR” and the “SEDUCER,” two men whose identities she easily slips into and whose homoerotic friendship she spins out in endless variations. Brown’s attentiveness to the suppleness of language and the poetry of everyday life makes this slim novel absolutely transporting. In the closing pages, Annabel thinks, “Today has been—” and then she doesn’t, and perhaps can’t, finish the thought.

A brilliant and keen work about being fully alive.