A Room Called Earth

June 15, 2020
Australian writer Ryan’s evocative debut features an autistic narrator negotiating her social obligations on Christmas Eve in Melbourne. As the unnamed, self-possessed woman, who finds “connection with my own species has been difficult,” prepares to attend a party, her mind takes her through a series of digressions. Should she put chopsticks in her hair, or paint the chopsticks to match her outfit, or leave them in the drawer to serve their purpose as utensils? She considers the identities of the partygoers, whom she envisions as “Futuristic Shadow Beasts Without Faces,” observes the foliage, and plays with her cat. Among people, she struggles to bridge the gulf between the hive of her mind and polite conversation, which she finds suffocating, whether dealing with a clingy ex-boyfriend or weathering the labels and words that she refuses to define her (“Sometimes... I fear that change is impossible, and that persecution is inevitable for us all”). Eventually, she leaves with a man and contends with the languages of love and sex in an extended scene that begins awkwardly but turns into romance. While the dialogue is often long-winded, the interior monologues are vibrant and revealing. Ryan succeeds in capturing neurodiversity on the page. Agent: Barbara Zitwer, Barbara J. Zitwer Agency.

July 1, 2020
Debut novelist Ryan explores an unusual young woman's perspective on the world over the course of one eventful evening. The night before Christmas Eve, a young woman in Melbourne gets ready to go to a party. She lives alone, kept company by a shrine to Heath Ledger and a cat named Porkchop; as she explains, "Connection with my own species has been difficult. I'm more at ease with the animal part of myself than the human part of myself. I feel at peace when I'm with Porkchop." Over the course of the evening, this unnamed narrator struggles to interact with other people at the house party she attends, from the woman who compliments her kimono ("I'm not my kimono," she explains) to an ex-boyfriend who wants her to meet his new girlfriend. But all this changes when she meets a man with whom she shares an instant connection, and a romance begins to blossom between them. Though Ryan, who is autistic, never explicitly labels her narrator neuroatypical, much of the novel's appeal comes from its illustration and examination of the narrator's blunt perspective on life and specifically social interaction. People "assume that through articulating what's happening that they're being judged, and ridiculed, when they're actually just being seen," she explains. At their best, the narrator's voice and perspective are beguiling; at other times, they can feel strained, particularly when she makes broad political statements. The dialogue, which suffers from an abundance of ellipses ("Do you...need a drink top-up?"), is also less engaging than the narrator's inner monologue. Ultimately, though very little happens in this book, Ryan's ability to convey her narrator's unique perspective makes it a worthwhile read. A promising but slight debut that richly depicts its narrator's inner life.

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July 1, 2020
Ryan's novel covers less than 24 hours, but by book's end, readers are left feeling remarkably bonded with this fiercely independent young woman who thinks, acts, and lives differently from the so-called norm. What actually happens over 300-plus pages is relatively minimal: she prepares to attend a party, arrives, takes a brief walk, meets a stranger, and brings him home to just sleep through the night; revelations ensue. Her sharp, unfiltered thoughts?compellingly presented by Australian director and debut novelist Ryan, who herself is #OwnVoices neurodiverse?never seem to pause as she skips between describing her present and divulging her past, meticulously processing her actions, and regarding herself and others from unexpected perspectives. Virtually every page offers a discerning observation: Mystery is my favorite accessory; privilege seems to be the result of conquering things, and stealing things, and copying things; being overstimulated and distracted has become a social expectation. Her piercing insight is relentless. Ryan is currently preparing her intriguing tale for the screen, but how this intense inner life will transfer across media remains to be seen?literally. Until then, read the book.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2020, American Library Association.)

January 13, 2021
In the light of a full moon on a sweltering December night—Christmas Eve eve—a nameless young woman drapes herself in a silk kimono and goes to a party, alone. Singularly attuned to the rhythms and complexities of the night, of other people, of the energy of the world around her, her unwavering perspective carries the reader through the events of the evening: the places she inhabits, the experiences she has and the people she meets. When a man spills a drink on her shoes, a connection deep and profound is born. The dynamic of first attraction, both intellectual and sexual, is nicely rendered in all its awkward grace as the narrator takes the man back to her home. A Room Called Earth is intoxicating: a heady rush of sensuality and passion. The novel is challenging at first: the reader must acclimatise to spending so much time entirely in the head and perspective of this unique and dynamic narrator. But as the narrative and prose find their rhythm, A Room Called Earth becomes a rich pleasure: lyrical, sumptuous and saturated with insight. As a debut novel, A Room Called Earth is enigmatic and entirely refreshing. Madeleine Ryan is a writer to watch. Georgia Brough is a bookseller, critic and writer based in Melbourne.