January
09
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All Fours by Miranda July
Hold the HRT for this wild and wonderful window into the menopausal mind.
In All Fours, a 45-year-old artist, wife and mother is planning a solo road trip from LA to NY for work. With a determination to prove to herself that she’s a steady and reliable person (and not the loose cannon she is revealing herself to be); she meticulously maps out every detail of the two and a half week trip. The route, the powerbars, the playlists, everything.
She tells herself:
“I’ll be totally present all the way there and all the way back. And for the rest of my life I’ll tell people about this cross-country drive I did when I was forty-five. That’s when I finally learned to just be myself.”
But sure enough… just 20 miles outside of LA, she pulls into a service town, books a motel room and sets up house. In my experience, this is entirely menoplausible.
In room 321 of the Excelsior Hotel, our hormonal heroine lets loose while attempting to wrangle countless swirling thoughts and doubts about ageing, freedom and desire. Desperately trying to reconcile her individualism with the expectations of everyday life, she also does a lot of entertaining and masturbating. Suffice to say, she doesn’t put many miles on the clock.
All Fours is a brilliant, bold, steamy and often hilarious read, especially for the middle aged (or middle-aged adjacent). It is the second novel by American writer, filmmaker and artist, Miranda July and is an absolute ripper in every sense of the word. If you haven’t read it yet, you need to.
And that’s my 2 cents worth.
Readhead 