Hot Milk - Deborah Levy

Hot Milk is the first encounter I’ve had with Deborah Levy, and it was definitely a successful one. I’d been eyeing it up in bookshops for a few months until I caved, I just couldn’t get enough of that gorgeous cover! Levy quotes Hélène Cixous’ piece ‘The Laugh of the Medusa’ in one of the opening pages of the book, and immediately I was intrigued. I’d looked at the piece during my degree so understood that the novel was going to focalise upon the feminine, in its many forms.

First things first, I loved this book. I loved it as an easily readable, beautifully written story - Levy has such an interesting command of language and creates such unique and wonderful phrasing. I also loved it for the fact that it went further than the “typical” contemporary novel, it is complex, and demonstrates a multitude of different feminine identities set in this dreamy landscape.

The novel, in an assumed homage to Cixous, is laced with female interactions, and questions surrounding female relationships, including the maternal, the sisterly and the sexual. Sofia is an anthropology graduate, and in this way she provides a lens for the reader into the most intimate of interactions, and speculates upon the positivity or negativity of these. I loved her observations on some of the other women in the novel; she looks at one woman in the street and asks “Who is her body supposed to please? What is it for and is it ugly or is it something else?”. Moments like these just took the novel to the next level for me.

Sofia’s relationship with her mother is so interesting within the novel in this landscape soaked in maternal imagery. Sofia describes her love for her mother Rose as being “like an axe. It cuts very deep”. Rose has a chronic illness which affects her ability to walk, although Levy makes it pretty clear (I think) that this illness is more of a mental affectation than a physical issue. Rose’s dependence upon Sofia means that the illness affects Sofia as much as Rose, and she finds herself limping, despite her perfectly healthy 25-year-old body. Their relationship is so influential upon Sofia’s mental wellbeing, and seems to have preserved a childlike quality in Sofia despite her adulthood.

The question of identity within the novel I thought was really interesting and resounded with me at this point in time. Sofia is half Greek, half English, and finds herself in Spain. Her Greek heritage manifests in her physical appearance, yet her Greek father has been out of contact for many years of her life and she finds herself failing to identify with this part of her identity. She is a recent graduate working for the time being at a coffee shop in London. In the first aid tent after being stung by a Medusa jellyfish, when asked for her personal details she struggles to find anything to write under ‘occupation’. (As a recent graduate myself, this particular identity crisis I can reeeeeally relate to). Questions of identity are asked repeatedly throughout the novel, which just adds to the dreamlike haziness and confusion of the narrative.

For me, the point of the novel seemed to be that Sofia had something to learn from each of the characters, particularly the female ones and their specific feminine identities. She falls in love with Ingrid Bauer’s strength of character and sexuality, and this seems to awaken something within herself. She seems to be finding herself through finding a cure for her mother’s illness, and through the focalisation upon the issues of all the other female characters within the book, Sofia seems to be discovering herself. I’m not sure if the novel is fully satisfyingly concluded, and I like that. I loved the glimpse into these wonderfully complex characters and the huge questions Sofia was asking of herself and of the world. I would recommend this book to anyone, so definitely read it if you have the opportunity!