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It's Lonely at the Centre of the Earth: This Book Is for Someone, Somewhere.

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The Covid pandemic figures into the story as well, derailing her success after her first book by canceling her book tour and plunging her into solitude. I love it when an artist can also tell his/her own story and wow can this young talent draw and tell a good story. Following the release of her well-received debut graphic novel, The Impending Blindness of Billie Scott , Thorogood finds that artistic success is no cure for lifelong depression, which she draws as a looming Babadook-like monster. For whatever reason work like this is created its importance is immeasurable, whether that’s in normalising how depression can be debilitating for many, reminding people that they are not alone, or as an exercise in authorial catharsis. Often these scenes are painful; a lot of us have these moments, though seldom to the same degree, and of course even this sometimes touches a raw nerve for Thorogood, being told her work is "relatable" while feeling "like an alien in human skin".

Art is something we experience, and while it is an individual battle to create, it becomes a social item that everyone consumes, comments on, takes with them in their heart or leaves behind. PUBLISHERS WEEKLY (STARRED) -- “I’m in a codependent relationship with my own work,” Thorogood worries in her raw and relentlessly imaginative graphic memoir, which bristles with self-awareness of the ample pitfalls of its genre.When Thorogood’s The Impending Blindness of Billie Scott was released from Avery Hill Publishing a couple of years back it was it was undoubtedly the most confident debut graphic novel I had read since Tillie Walden’s The End of Summer a few years before.

It's an excellent visual representation of depression and self-pity because there's no logic to it and it's incredibly self-absorbed.What we are gathered for here today is to celebrate Zoe Thorogood and It’s Lonely at the Centre of the Earth, her marvelous ‘ auto-bio-graphical novel’ that deals with art, depression, suicide, and just living a life. I understand how debilitating mental illnesses can be but I think wallowing in it to the extent of inviting others to wallow with you is problematic. It feels like a clash between past and present, an identity crisis, and an infinite possibility scenario. For instance, she knows we have to in some sense "like" her if it is a memoir even one about such an intimate subject.

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