Our Wives Under the Sea

As a hypochondriac, the typical response when I'm panicking is to acknowledge it will end. At some point, I will cease to be convinced that I have a brain tumor, or a stomach ulcer, or some degenerative condition of the nerves, and so at some point, the bad thing will end. When something bad is actually happening, it's easy to underreact, because a part of you is wired to assume it isn't real. When you stop underreacting, the horror is unique because it is, unfortunately, endless.

I'm glad I went into this knowing to expect a slow literary novel. I think classifying this as a horror novel alone does it a disservice — there are horrifying aspects but to me they are secondary to the internal lives of these characters and their relationships. Readers going in with the wrong expectations may not be happy about what they find.

I find it ironic that I purchased this while waiting for visiting hours to start at the hospital where my dad had been admitted after having a stroke. I was deep in my anticipatory grief; he had already been diagnosed with advanced bladder cancer. Once at the hospital, I only made it 7 pages before he threw a tantrum because he wanted his vape. I couldn't really blame him. Then I didn't pick this up again for almost two years.

Since my dad's passing — especially during the first year — grief horror has been instrumental to my healing. At the time I bought this, I didn't realize how relevant it would feel. Armfield did a fantastic job conveying the overwhelming numbness and even the frustration one feels during these periods of anticipatory grief. The mundane world feels like it no longer matters. Who cares about emails when you're losing someone so important? Why won't my loved one listen to me when I know how to help them? Miri pushes for help and answers, while Leah knows something inevitable is coming.

With a slow start, Our Wives Under the Sea is propelled by a slowly mounting feeling of dread. I entered the novel confused, frustrated at the lack of clarity. As things built, I understood the feelings Armfield was trying to convey. Although an entirely different situation than my own, I felt deeply connected to Miri's emotional journey. This is more personal essay than book review, but I hope I've gotten across how much this book meant to me. While I see why this wouldn't work for some, I think Julia Armfield is an incredibly talented writer and I look forward to picking up more of her work.