Tracey Emin’s Strangeland is her own space, lying between the Margate of her childhood, the Turkey of her forefathers and her own, private-public life in present-day London. Her writings, a combination of memoirs and confessions, are deeply intimate, yet powerful
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From a Week of Hell
Woke up having sex – with a terrible hangover. Ran to the bathroom to throw up, shitting at the same time, holding on to the pan. Small white balls of foamy stuff cascading out of my mouth. My whole body shaking. My eyes about to burst, swearing to God I would never drink again.
I threw up nine more times during the day.
Saturday and Sunday
Spent the whole weekend in bed, depressed and trying to recover, with a throbbing tooth and scabs breaking out all over my
I read this book in one sitting and found it, for the most part, quite disturbing, and partly entertaining and also in parts quite dull. Emin writes this book with a painful honesty and a navity that both devalues it’s literary worth and paradoxcally makes it all the more interesting. I enjoyed her style of writing and the book had a good voice in parts. It is all out there for thoose that want to read it. She has led an interesting life and she will continue to do so. It is, however, shocking t
Some interesting anecdotes—but as typical of inexperienced memoir writers, Emin thinks she can just hand you a list of all the messed-up stuff that happened to her and automatically generate sympathy.
I mean, that is a real thing. The more messed-up the life, the more forgivable readers are of flat prose. Mary Karr is apparently a good writer but I couldn’t find one interesting thing that had happened to her in the first 50 pages of The Liar’s Club so I suppose that’s where good prose supplan