Cacophony of Bone

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While that book was challenging because of all it makes the reader feel, Cacophony of Bone was proof of a move forward, of a shift out of the rawness of her earlier existence and while still in the process of healing, clear signs of hope and progress and development.

I’m definitely jealous of this new Cool Girl archetype as I couldn’t help but comparing the dates of the diaries to my own 2020. Especially as for quite a few specific dates in the past we have swam in the same sea and looked at the same Galway streets. I suppose it upsets me to read the wonderfully privileged account of somebody I would have seen in the queue for Kai while crying in my bedroom. I am a little in awe of Kerri ni Dochartaigh's work - the clarity and disinhibition of her storytelling; the wild freedom of her prose. Here is a brave and bold book, and one that deserves to be read, then read again' HELEN JUKES

C acophony of Bone is a book that touched me deeply. It's so vital, so brimming with life and love, and ni Dochartaigh's singular, addictive lyricism' LUCY JONES Spears’ vulnerability shines through as she describes her painful journey from vulnerable girl to empowered woman. Cacophony of Bone is a telling of a changed life, in a changed world – but it is, too, about all that which does not change. All that which simply keeps on – living and breathing, nesting and dying – in spite of it all. Fragmentary in subject and form, fluid of language; this is an ode to a year, a place, and a love, that changed a life. Told month by month, in three parts, through diary extracts, poetry, essay and hybrid prose, its form reflects the time, and the place, that helped to mould it."

Ritual finds form through the assumption that it is a means of really knowing something. Religious ceremony and personal rites of passage fill my thoughts. The gently, insistent act of repeating. How it creates equilibrium between the small and the vast, the seen and the unseen, the self and other, the part and the whole. We build myths (which are really just houses). Dwelling places built of the bones left behind by stories. We fill the gaps in the walls with ritual. We insulate it with objects. ní Dochartaigh writes in evocative, poetic prose that is quietly majestic. A spell and incantation of the best kind of magic; the ordinary, everyday. In diary form she notes both the personal and political. From the small: the changes of light, the flutter of a moths wing, the lighting of a candle. To the big: the injustice of the political and social crises, the grief and trauma of growing up in Ireland, the longing to be a mother, the birthing of hope. To notice those things and to hold them, give my furry body over to their coming, to stop hurrying through life like a person shamed, by my female body and its traumas, by my past, by what that body could not have, what its parts could not produce.For Kerri there was to be one more change, a longed-for but unhoped for change. Cacophony of Bone maps the circle of a year – a journey from one place to another, field notes of a life – from one winter to the next. It is a telling of a changed life, in a changed world – and it is about all that does not change. This glimpse into the nature of time is one of many moments of perception caught and shared in this generous, glowing book. Cacophony of Bone is structured as a journal, month by devastating month in a plague year, and its form glances at many additional antecedents.