Little Scratch

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Even as I wrote the review it was tempting to refer to elements of the plot that fit closely what I understand of the author’s life and experiences – and the one time when the book diverts to a WhatsApp group chat (otherwise the narrator leaves them unread, instead just communicating with her Mum and her Him) it is for a brief discussion on female auto-fiction.

I read Mayflies by Andrew O’Hagan over Christmas. It’s really moving. The way he captures the romance of friendship is quite a rare thing. It’s also a beautiful celebration of spontaneous life, which feels really brutal to read during a pandemic. I have to stop myself, I know I will stop myself so my body scratches faster, gets in more moves in less time, if you’re going to make me tear away so soon I better get my pound’s I’ve had some really moving responses from readers who have experienced sexual assault or rape, thanking me for representing how they feel or what they went through, or a process that they found difficult to verbalise or hadn’t seen written before. I’ve also had responses from male readers saying it made them think about their own past behaviour. Both sides of that are pretty powerful and it makes me feel very proud, but it’s a strange thing to get those reactions. I saw Rebecca Watson at Charleston, Sussex (20.05.2022) in conversation with Lucy Kirkwood (author of Maryland), moderated by Katie Mitchell. and being confused at how still it (my face) was, how it wasn’t moving when in my head things were so loud, rising furious right out and yet I did not move, did not seem to feel or wince or, look at that face! look at that frozen face (I used to think), prod at it as if it wasn’t mineThe poetry reading awkwardness is hilarious, but the musings around how to deal with rape are a very ample counterweight, brought in a claustrophobic manner, with thoughts like:

Despite these niggles, I remain in awe of the innovative structure of the novel – even though it did not, in my opinion, quite reach its full potential. Rebecca Watson is one of The Observer’s 10 best debut novelists of 2021 and was shortlisted for this year's Desmond Elliott Prize. Experimentation aside – and it is not to everyone’s taste – Little Scratch is an extremely perceptive depiction of power and agency: in the modern workplace, where age-old and patriarchal hierarchies persist; in the modern world, where communication is truncated even when we have too much to say; and in the modern novel, where a character must find a way to name her own experience, even if only to herself. Still, as I am now, as I keep my legs stiff, half bent, under the table, spooning cauliflower, still The book covers 24 hours in the life of an office worker., from the moment she gets up to bedtime. We see her daily routines like finding it difficult to get up to her struggles to get in the tube on time. As the book progresses we readers get little crumbs of her life: she has a long distant relationships, she does not like her boss and, more importantly she constantly feels itchy and scratches herself until she bleeds.Recently, a stranger congratulated me on my book. “I loved it”, she told me, “it was so brave.” I was in the pub and my boyfriend was standing next to me. She asked, quietly by my ear, if that was my partner. I introduced them and she tilted her head towards him, saying, in a tone of hushed awe: “Wow, I feel like I know so much about you.” l ittle scratch’ is a virtuoso articulation of a remarkable piece of writing.' 'little scratch' review A rhythmic and psychological audio experience in which Mitchell plays with artistic control' WhatsOnStage

I usually find the assumptions funny or psychologically interesting, at other times a tedious balancing act of correcting or letting go. People’s reactions are not mine to control; nor, in a way, is the book. A superb staging, this version of the dazzling book achieves the same lingering power using a quartet of actors’ The Guardian Words are sent rippling up and down the line of actors, overlapping, chiming or bringing chilled silence.' T he story works on several levels and, within a minute, can draw both wry humour and gnawing horror from office life, and find weary familiarity and startling surprise in everyday routines.'Miriam Battye and Katie Mitchell have turned 24 hours inside a frenzied mind into something like a piece of music' What is striking about Little Scratch is Watson’s ability to connect her character’s inner monologue with her physical existence; she is never less than fully embodied. Her mental meanderings and digressions never feel like abstract exercises in portraying thoughts or testing language. Moments of self-harm or appalled recognition of the trauma that the narrator is living through are refracted through the commonplace experiences of drinking water or walking up a flight of stairs; Watson neatly sketches the alienation from one’s environment that carries over into the body, occasionally making her appear to us like a figure in a game, navigating space, avoiding pitfalls, getting through to the next level. Besides hilarious passages right from ordinary live we also get to see how whatsapp forms the main platform for the main character to fret over her relationship with her Him. little scratch made made me work hard, and I'm not sure it has a 'payoff' in a traditional novelistic sense. The language is spiky and fragmentary and the storytelling style approaches its subject--a woman trying to cope with the trauma of sexual abuse--in a manner that mirrors that shattering dislocation. This debut novel will I think be one of the most innovative I read in 2021 – and I would be not be surprised to see it featuring on both the Women’s Prize and Goldsmith Prize lists. The Goldsmith was of course won in its first year by Eimear McBride’s harrowing stream-of-consciousness novel “A Girl is a Half Formed Thing” which is the only time ever I have listened to an audiobook as a way of gaining entry to a book I had found it difficult to access in print (just for reference in a typical year I read around 150 novels and listen to 0 audiobooks) – allowing me then to read the novel.

The ordinary kindness of a distant colleague bringing a cup of tea to the protagonist’s desk when she can tell the other woman is tense, and the protagonist’s thought that, if she (a woman whose name she doesn’t even remember) can notice the change, how is it possible that her own rapist cannot see or be moved by what he has done? That ruined me. yes yes the silence the silence the slowing down the switching into whatsapp to explain consent to men who I thought would get it, at least them, How! How are they not with me here! and keeping strength, keeping expressions fixed, that do not imply anything, imply always nothing because it’s the stillness again, the carefully selected stillness Maybe people who don’t overthink or find themselves distracted by obsessive-compulsive thoughts may find parts of this book jarring, but I found them comforting and illuminating. Asked about the message of the book, Watson responded that she wanted to portray trauma in its entirety, “what it would be like to be in the head of someone for a day non-stop, rather than just in those moments of extremity” ( Source)Reads like the cinders settling in the air after an explosion… daring and completely readable.’ Colin Barrett no sound,) (no big drama in its departure) as a new thought takes its place, the previous clotted, trudging off, breaking its own fall, sifting down the sink, younger self My book, I should make clear now, is a novel. little scratch is a fictional day-in-the-life of a young woman (who, yes, has a boyfriend). Told in the first person, the narrator lives in London and works as an assistant full-time in a newspaper office. The reader inhabits her mind as she goes about her day, getting up, going to work, and cycling to the pub – all while attempting to surmount a trauma that she has yet to fully confront. While the story starts off rather brilliantly, it fell flat for me in the second half. The text ultimately does not do justice to its weighty themes, nor does it achieve a satisfying balance of the profound to the banal. Much of it feels like a short story, stretched too far (incidentally, parts of the text were previously published in short story format). Another issue – perhaps related to the youth of the author – is that Watson does not fully trust her reader. It feels, at times, like a sermon on #metoo and related topics – intended for readers desperately in need of education. (I personally prefer a lighter hammer.)