The cry for a book recommendation frequently punctuates my Facebook news feed.
There’s often someone looking for their next read, and I think over the last year, Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman has been mentioned on the majority of these novel-seeking threads. There’s always someone pinging it into the fray, with high praise. It’s a staple for secular book groups, and one of those debut novels that rocketed up the bestsellers list seemingly through the power of word of mouth.
Eleanor Oliphant is the protagonist, and it’s through the eyes of this anti-heroine that the narrative unfolds. Within a few paragraphs, the novel’s title is contradicted, and we quickly become aware that Eleanor Oliphant is not ‘completely fine’. Her loneliness pervades the book from its opening pages. She lives an isolated existence with scarce social interaction outside of the banalities of work. As she completes her weekly routines, the outside world assumes that she is ‘fine’ and she’s able to mask the scarred and broken reality of her life, framed by meals for one and vodka.
