This vivid follow-up to the Booker-shortlisted Swimming Home tackles identity,obsession and dutyA diminutive more than halfway through Deborah Levy’s hypnotic novel novel, Hot Milk, or its narrator,Sofia, throws a vase on the floor. She is in a rented beach house with her mother, and Rose,in southern Spain but if this sounds like a holiday, it’s not. Rose has remortgaged her flat to approach here, and to a mysterious clinic run by a man called Gómez: perhaps Gómez can cure the mysterious paralysis that confines Roseto a wheelchair and binds her daughter to her with chains of control and dependency. But there is no cure here – only unusual pronouncements from a doctor who may very well be a quack; a chained alsatian on the beach that won’t stop barking; the relentless sun and a sea full of poisonous jellyfish. Related: Deborah Levy: 'If we don't read books by women,we're lost fundamental data' Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com