Emmas way with words is siren-like, and reading this memoir, you feel as though any moment you might stray off course. She speaks of completing entire screenplays in a few days, fuelled by nothing but mania and caffeine, and its not hard to imagine that it is in a similar state that this memoir was written: it is feverish, exhausting, and at times as painful as hell. Her life pre-medication, and no doubt post-medication, has been one of astonishing highs and the deepest, most flood-ravaged valleys, and this inclination towards extremes seethes off the page like the fog of the heat off the road on a summer day: there is a beauty here, but a dangerous one. Indeed, coming from a family where whimsy and solipsism seem to be the name of the game, its perhaps little surprise that it takes a move from London to New York for writer Emma Forrest to shed the comforting insulation of charming eccentricity and begin to prod, prod, prod at the caged tiger of what is later diagnosed as rapid cycle bipolar disorder.Ī prodigiously talented writer, Emma was working as a music journalist when still in her teens, and promptly progressed to novels and screenplays in the years that followed. Perhaps because my family are how they are, it took me a little while to realisethat my quirks had gone beyond eccentricity and past the warm waters of weird to those cold, deep patches of sea where people lose their lives.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |