I don’t know if I’m allowed to say it, but when I read Girl, Woman, Other, I read it as a series of connected short stories, or at least that’s what it felt like to me; including the epilogue. Of course, you could argue that the epilogue doesn’t make sense to standalone on its own, but I think it does (and of course it’s even cleverer when you realise all the strands from all the previous stories are suddenly coming together). What I love about it is just how bursting with tenderness it is. In a way, to me at least, it reads like the love story of a woman in her eighties who finally finds a missing piece of herself; how it is about the importance of knowing yourself, of being together.
First published as part of Girl, Woman, Other, Penguin 2019
A Personal Anthology 