Dorothy Herson
Magpie (n): Someone that likes collecting and keeping things, often things that have little value.
Thousands congregated at the Barbican on Thursday 2nd September to celebrate the launch of Elizabeth Day’s fifth novel Magpie. Dolly Alderton was present in suitably themed bird-like attire, hosting and leading the evening with a series of astute questions.
They say creativity dies in a vacuum. Historically, great writers come in pairs – Ginsberg and Kerouac, Plath and Hughes, Wordsworth and Coleridge. Day and Alderton were no exception to this rule. Their chemistry and talent sparked an evening of intrigue, as they filled the auditorium with empowering female energy.
ON BEING ELIZABETH DAY
One of the (only) issues Day faces, being a highly successful podcaster, journalist, and extraordinaire, is that one can forget that she is primarily an author. Many conversations with Day invariably lead back to her successful memoir and podcast: How to Fail. However, when interviewed by the dexterous Alderton, Day was afforded the latitude to open up as a novelist without reserve. Here, she illicited goosebumps in the audience, as she shared the tribulations and inspirations which led to Magpie. Though Day was eloquent throughout the whole interview, it was when she spoke about Magpie that she sparkled brightest – twinkling with thought-provoking quotes and insights – passionately gesticulating and explaining her characters and plot delineations. In these moments she was inexplicably an author, and indisputably the creator of her outstanding fifth novel.
BOOKS AND BUMBLE
Magpie features the protagonist – Marisa – who has been abandoned by her mother as a child. Now, in her late 20s, Marisa embarks on what many readers would recognise as a familiar sequence of terrible, internet-facilitated dates. Day considers all manner of cringe-worthy stereotype; from the “girl is my niece” caption, to the man looking for a woman “with warm eyes and a sexy smile,” to the garish post-date jolt of a “WhatsApp tick turned from single grey to double grey and then to double blue.”
Despite the sting of such an unfortunate succession of male encounters, Marisa eventually meets Jake – who is different. Jake is exactly what Marisa has been looking for. Jake and Marisa quickly move in together with a lodger named Kate. Whilst trying to make a family, the couple befall the tragedy of miscarriage. They also increasingly feel that Kate’s perverse interest in their lives has sinister implications. The book tactfully covers motherhood, obsession, fertility, and mental illness, and as Day comically affirmed: “it’s just a really cheery read.”
BRAVERY AND BEING MIDDLE CLASS
During the talk, Day revealed how her own infertility issues influenced the characterisation of Marisa. Day calmly told Alderton: “it doesn’t re-traumatise me to write about a character going through something that I might have experienced.” Yet, anyone who is familiar with her memoir, podcast, and other works, will know that infertility is as much her experience as it is Marisa’s, and will marvel at her bravery, strength and resilience as she earnestly revisits personal adversity. Infertility remains stigmatised today, and can result in depression, diminished self-esteem, and social isolation; Day’s commitment to normalising discussion on the topic is as refreshing as it is necessary.
Alderton and Day have been recognised as white, middle-class spokeswomen, in a world that is in dire need of diverse representation at an eminent level. Despite this – through a staunch determination to tackle difficult topics, their interview reinforced how multi-faceted and relevant these women are today, not just in the capacity of representing themselves, but for ceaselessly reflecting on the experiences of marginalised others. Far from being insular or self-involved, Day elucidated on the “extraordinary connective tissue” that binds us to other people when we listen to their stories and find compassion for grief.
Day exhibited self-awareness (having openly admitting to being middle class), by ridiculing the snobbery of her white, posh characters. Seemingly, if a white, posh person names their child “Toad” or “Bumble,” employers will remain unperturbed, or find it “jovially charming.” By contrast, studies reveal that if a foreign name appears on a job application, the applicant will often be disadvantaged by bias:
“it is a peculiar privilege of the posh to be able to give their progeny the most unflattering nicknames and for it to not affect their life chances“ Elizabeth Day, Magpie
ON COMPARISON AND RELATABILITY
Another theme of Magpie is the toxic competitiveness and jealousy which accompany many online platforms; the comparing of one’s self to lives that appear infinitely better. Magpies, Day reminded us, are birds that seek things other people have. Expanding on this, she explained:
“We know what is going on in our internal selves, but we increasingly compare that to everyone else’s external projection of their curated perfect day.” Elizabeth Day
Ironically, on hearing this statement it was difficult, as a member of the stalls, not to draw comparisons between the highly successful, critically renowned women on the stage, and the sprawling, unacclaimed audience. Yet, in another hilarious exchange, the duo dispelled these notions, inadvertently shedding light on Magpie, whilst satirising the notion of comparison. Alderton (somewhat vulnerably) asked Day: “what’s it like to write a book when you have a boyfriend?” Having been in relationships since the age of 16, Day said she wouldn’t know; and then, after just long enough of a pause, turned to the audience and winked –
“I was in a series of monogamous relationships… desperately outsourcing my sense of self to other people.” Elizabeth Day
Like so many of the duo’s interplays, this example highlighted their unique ability to make everything relatable. They touched on relevant topics through personal anecdotes, intellectualised key themes, and then, through self-deprecation – invariably reminded us that they, like everyone, are human beings: flawed, self-doubting and sometimes – desperately insecure. We laughed. We cried. Most importantly: we felt understood.
A hardback copy of Magpie can be purchased here.
Featured image courtesy of Dorothy Herson. No changes were made to this image and permission was granted by the author.
Amazing review.
Excellent review, It’s defiantly going on my read list! She sounds like an incredible woman I would love to know more about.
This book sounds so good, I see these authors in a new light now.