Sensorialist Literature

Personal transformation narratives abound, and society’s preoccupation with reinvention supplies so many industries connected to style, wellbeing and beauty. But why stop at improving one’s fitness, or simply changing the colour of one’s hair? In Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, protagonist Gregor Samsa wakes one morning in the body of a nameless insect, possibly a cockroach, the possibilities within the hypothetical world of literature at least, quite literally are endless.

These stories of transfiguration, while perhaps unorthodox to the contemporary imagination, have throughout time allowed readers the space to consider the limitations of the human experience—and indeed, what it means to be alive. Through them we are often led to understand the false nature of certain binaries and restrictions imposed by historic systems of power.

For many, the sign of a great novel is one which, on nearing the final pages, the reader feels a sense of loss. As they absent-mindedly leaf through the final pages of acknowledgements, they bid farewell to the characters with which they have formed a bond—the fictitious individuals that have, at least for a while, become companions. Stories of friendship have a particular ability to conjure such a feeling; these are tales that may bring back memories of mirth, perhaps the odd squabble and overcoming life’s hurdles, together.

While the innate desire to be understood by others is a universal thread running through stories of friendship, in these narratives readers may also discover different circumstances and unexpected modes of companionship that broaden perspectives. Take for instance the formative connections depicted in Margaret Atwood’s Cat’s Eye, which explores the lasting impact of tumultuous female friendships, or the disparate backgrounds of the four comrades in Hanya Yanagihara’s A Little Life, in which an actor, painter, architect and lawyer seek to ‘make it’ in New York. Indeed, stories of friendship are not even confined to us homo sapiens—think France Price’s bond with her beloved cat, Small Frank, in Patrick Dewitt’s deliciously wry French Exit, or the relationship between a robot and their ward in Kazou Ishiguro’s Klara and the Sun—more on that below.

C.S. Lewis once wrote: ‘Friendship is born at the moment when one person says to another, “What! You too? I thought I was the only one.”’ And the same can be said of the books that document it; novelists’ studies of companionship help us unpack the complexities, joys, mishaps and marvels of the families we forge for ourselves. Sometimes fraught, never boring—friendships will always prove fertile ground for writers and readers alike.

Queer stories are often described as ‘coming from the margins’—they are tales of ‘otherness’, shining a light on hidden lives concealed in the shadows of the bind. And yet while such language accurately reflects the way LGBTQIA+ voices have been—and in some areas still are—marginalised by discriminatory laws and ideals, it fails to capture the intrinsic power of queer storytelling and the strength of the community behind it.

Now, perhaps more than ever, many writers find themselves emboldened to share narratives that seek to assert, not assimilate. They explore new modes of expression that blur genres, challenge ideals and provide catalysts for discussion. Here, in the margins, is where some of the most courageous, exciting, and thought-provoking voices in contemporary literature may be found.

This renewed sense of unabashed creativity is seen in a fresh wave of queer writers whose characters, plots and openness breaks through familiar themes of shame and secrecy that have long been bound up in LGBTQIA+ narratives. Take, for example, Vivek Shraya’s I’m Afraid of Men, which explores her experience as a trans woman while rebuking toxic modes of masculinity, or Canadian First Nations Two-Spirit writer Joshua Whitehead and his works, which underline the intersections of Indigeneity and queerness. Such unapologetic voices reveal the power of books to carve out new chapters in queer history, bit by bit revealing a more inclusive view on what it means to be LGBTQIA+.

In societies that frequently demand that LGBTQIA+ individuals spell out what gender or sexuality they align with, queer people are often well-versed in authoring their own blurbs, whether written to come out or conceal. However, while the pressure to announce personal differences may at times feel stifling, when such stories are given the space they need, they can provide vital sources of empowerment, validation and joy. These stories of difference can also help forge new currents in the mainstream—opening fresh channels for self-expression, empathy and illuminative ideas, disrupting the ebb and flow with a message of defiance.

As discourses become more nuanced and the readership of queer literature broadens, LGTBQIA+ narratives offer a wider-than-ever range of perspectives from this diverse, vibrant community. These are tales written not merely to put others at ease or to ‘set the record straight’—indeed, they reveal a distinct distaste for anything so linear—but to provoke conversations, questions and reflections on the wide range of experiences that make up the whole.

In decades past, queer literature was—apart from some notable exceptions, of course—predominantly led by white cisgender authors, meaning that shelves of LGBTQIA+ literature in the average bookstore often failed to reflect the true spectrum of the community. Now, however, the variety of published writers has grown, and with it the opportunity for readers to explore how age, race, religion, gender and class are all issues that intersect with an individual’s experience of living as a queer person. From the story of a closeted 74-year-old Caribbean man in Bernadine Evaristo’s Mr Loverman (2013) to the hopeful messages on gender fluidity contained in Alok Vaid-Menon’s Beyond the Gender Binary (2020), the last 10 years have brought us books and characters that defy genres and stereotypes—and all the better for it.

To ensure that a diverse range of queer stories continues to be told, it is vital that readers support the organisations and initiatives which champion and nurture underrepresented voices. From venerable queer bookstores such as London’s Gay’s The Word and Tokyo’s Okamalt, to literary prizes, grants and publishing initiatives like Penguin Pride, such businesses and programmes rely on our support to share the word, join in the discussion and perhaps even make a contribution to the growing canon of queer stories, should inspiration strike.

The past few years necessitated a temporary change of pace for most people, whether this spelled an increase in activity—from home schooling to having to provide greater care to friends and loved ones—or the challenges associated with maintaining a routine of self-discipline while working from home. Whatever the case, people everywhere were forced to submit to a new and unfamiliar way of life and relinquish much of the control that they had previously exercised over certain parts of their life.

Now, as restrictions are finally lifted, a fresh set of challenges present themselves with the resumption of public life. Many will joyfully embrace the return to pottering around market stalls, dining out and attending live concerts. Yet even the most gregarious souls might still be prone to feelings of trepidation. In such cases, Aesop prescribes a policy of patience and radical compassion—of learning to enjoy the journey as much as the destination.

Synonymous with spring—and as such, famously featured in the opening passage of T. S. Eliot’s poem, ‘The Waste Land’—April is an ideal time for reflecting on the systems that underpin the natural world. Earth Day is an ideal occasion to consider many issues that are vital to the present—among them climate change, resource security, and protecting the planet for future generations. 

 This can be a moment of opportunity, rather than despair. The climate movement is a site of immense creativity, inspiring those who work for Aesop to continually reassess the company’s impact on the world and to identify ways of supporting initiatives in the communities where it operates.

Aesop has aways shown reverence and respect for the natural world, from the ample use of greenery and occasional piles of autumn leaves in-store, to the development of vegan and cruelty-free formulations.

Prioritising sustainability now and in the future, however, will require a commitment to understanding the experiences of communities from around the world, each tackling climate change in their own respective ways. After all, a more sustainable future will be predicated on cooperation over competition, and communication will be key.

From design to philosophy, poetry to memoir, more writers than ever are devoted to considering how our species interacts with its environment, and the many ways in which the natural world gives back—offering mankind sustenance and sanctuary. Spanning the canonical and the contemporary, the following texts are must-reads for the mutually minded and ecologically aware.

The first instalment of Sensorialist Literature hones in on works that explore the multiplicity of experience constituting womanhood. On the 8th March, the world celebrates International Women’s Day, and while we are keen to join the chorus of praise, cliché must be avoided—it hardly requires us, after all, to state the leading role of women in creating much of what is positive in the world.

Far better, we believe, to defer to the voices who have spoken out against patriarchal oppression so effectively as to now be considered greats. bell hooks, Audre Lorde and Shon Faye—each in their own way and with distinct flair—raised the bar for progressive rights, confronting society with some of its most deeply-held and stubborn prejudices about gender, sex and the rights of women and girls.

By sharing these titles, we are also afforded the opportunity to reflect on some of the advances that have been made in gender equality over the past year. In 2021, eight countries elected female leaders to the highest seat in office, including Barbados, Sweden, Tunisia, Moldova, Samoa, Kosovo, Tanzania and Estonia, while Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, a Nigerian citizen, became the first woman and African to lead the World Trade Organisation. Representation alone is somewhat futile without the commitment to policies that promote and protect women’s right, however, and in this vein, Switzerland and Chile both joined the list of countries to legalise same-sex marriage, while Spain advanced laws on rape to include all acts of non-consensual sex.

In arts and culture, Chloe Zhao became the first woman of colour to win Best Director at the Academy Awards for her film, Nomadland, and the Tokyo Olympics saw a record-breaking 49% female participation.

These gains are worthy of celebration, but unfortunately, for those whom Simone de Beauvoir critically termed the second sex, the battle is far from over. Misogyny persists, in stubborn gender pay discrepancies, continued and systemic harassment of women and a huge inequality in health provision—to name just a few of the issues that make life so difficult for fifty percent of the population. Hence the need to continue reading, arming ourselves with as much wisdom and knowledge as possible to better support the women that we love, admire and have so much to thank for.

In this collection comprising of essay and memoir, the poet and theorist Audre Lorde makes the case for emotional and intuitive intelligence. Domestic wisdom and social conscience—historically considered the domain of the woman—have been derided (see: ‘soft skills’). Here, Lorde challenges that view, asking us to consider the vital importance of such wisdom, and the steely determination of the matriarch, the homemaker, and the girl.