A ROOM CALLED EARTH

The night before Christmas Eve, a young woman in Melbourne gets ready to go to a party. She lives alone, kept company by a shrine to Heath Ledger and a cat named Porkchop; as she explains, “Connection with my own species has been difficult. I’m more at ease with the animal part of myself than the human part of myself. I feel at peace when I’m with Porkchop.” Over the course of the evening, this unnamed narrator struggles to interact with other people at the house party she attends, from the woman who compliments her kimono (“I’m not my kimono,” she explains) to an ex-boyfriend who wants her to meet his new girlfriend. But all this changes when she meets a man with whom she shares an instant connection, and a romance begins to blossom between them. Though Ryan, who is autistic, never explicitly labels her narrator neuroatypical, much of the novel’s appeal comes from its illustration and examination of the narrator’s blunt perspective on life and specifically social interaction. People “assume that through articulating what’s happening that they’re being judged, and ridiculed, when they’re actually just being seen,” she explains. At their best, the narrator’s voice and perspective are beguiling; at other times, they can feel strained, particularly when she makes broad political statements. The dialogue, which suffers from an abundance of ellipses (“Do you...need a drink top-up?”), is also less engaging than the narrator’s inner monologue. Ultimately, though very little happens in this book, Ryan’s ability to convey her narrator's unique perspective makes it a worthwhile read.

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