Lobster by Hollie McNish
In a blend of poetry and prose, acclaimed poet Hollie McNish tackles the (im)possibility of love in a flawed world
In the midst of the cost of living crisis, toxic political turmoil and climate collapse, it comes as no surprise that hatred is a precondition of contemporary life. To love is to be seriously deranged and embarrassingly deluded. But that is the exact challenge that Hollie McNish takes on in her blended collection of poetry and prose, Lobster: and other things I’m learning to love.
McNish’s writing traverses between memoir and polemic. She shares the most intimate and cringeworthy moments from her past, particularly the awkwardness of navigating university. The book is structured into different thematic chapters such as ‘bodies’ and ‘motherland’, and McNish examines each topic with humour and sensitivity. Perhaps the best part of the collection is the chapter dedicated entirely to oral sex, where McNish advocates for the twin practices of pleasure and unlearning.
If the collection falls short in any way, it is the length: at a total of 460 pages, it is far too long. McNish’s words, although lovely, could have left a more lasting impression if they had been more focused and succinct. Yet they still pack a punch; McNish is careful to avoid tired clichés of late stage capitalism masquerading as self care. As she aptly observes in the poem strike: ‘a scented candle will not calm you if you can’t afford to eat’. McNish may be hopeful but she is definitely not ignorant.