14,765 book reviews and counting...

Books in the Media Update

This website is no longer being updated; theBookseller.com is the home of all books related-content and will continue to be updated with regular articles about books featured in the media. Thank you for using this website, and we hope you join us on theBookseller.com.

I Couldn't Love You More Reviews

I Couldn't Love You More by Esther Freud

I Couldn't Love You More

Esther Freud

Score pending

2 reviews

Imprint: Bloomsbury Publishing PLC
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing PLC
Publication date: 27 May 2021
ISBN: 9781526629906

An unforgettable novel of mothers and daughters, wives and muses, secrets and outright lies 'Freud is a modern literary rarity: a born storyteller' THE TIMES

3 stars out of 5
Claire Allfree
22 May 2021

"As a novelist Freud hits that tricky sweet spot between commercial and literary fiction and her novels are invariably a joy to read."

As a novelist Freud hits that tricky sweet spot between commercial and literary fiction and her novels are invariably a joy to read. She’s also a more daring writer than the popular success of Hideous Kinky might suggest. As she flits between alternating depictions of motherhood with sometimes disorientating speed — Aoife’s private torments over why Rosaleen hasn’t been in touch; Rosaleen binding her belly to conceal her condition; Kate up at six with her daughter while her boozy husband lies comatose on the sofa — she is economical with the details a lesser author might ply the reader with, and indulgent with those details others might consider superfluous. Parts of the story emerge slowly, almost slyly.

Reviews

4 stars out of 5
Victoria Segal
16 May 2021

"The novelist draws on her parents’ history in this affecting novel"

Family is often a mixed blessing in Freud’s novels; mothers benignly neglect children in London temporary accommodation (Peerless Flats) or hippy trail Morocco (Hideous Kinky); fathers dispense insufficient funds, emotionally and financially. In I Couldn’t Love You More, however, family becomes a fierce craving for those unwillingly wrenched from it. The men still vanish into illness, infidelity or booze, but these women exist at a very physical sharp end, Freud viscerally describing childbirth, pregnancy and milk coming in. As with Polly Samson’s A Theatre for Dreamers, set in 1960 in a different bohemia, Freud’s book unpicks the promise of liberation — who enjoys it, who pays the price. The sharp intimacy of the writing is sometimes blunted by the story’s overfamiliarity, bad nuns and stolen babies veering towards a kind of Call the Midwife gothic. Yet Freud’s story remains one worth telling, full of compassion and — regardless of what Haughey may have thought — a profound decency.