A very enigmatic writer whom I am glad I discovered here!! Such an amazing book with good writing and storytelling that stays with you for long. Thank you to the publisher and netgalley for the arc.

I received this one as a gift from the publisher, did not request it, and I am not going to continue with it.

A young woman goes to a party, and gives an insight into a neurotypical mind through her stream of observations and comments on life, love, society, people and just about everything else. It is an original idea and well written, but I could not engage with the writing and it all seemed far removed from me and my interests. Sadly I did not finish it as I just wasn’t enjoying it, but lots of others feel differently so it is worth trying.

Hot girl summer is not complete without a hot girl read. And this, my friends, this is a hot girl read™️.⠀
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A Room Called Earth is everything I needed in a book: it is intimate, humorous, a little awkward, enchanting, and all-consuming. This book is an experience. I read it in one sitting, and I suggest you do the same. ⠀
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On the surface, this book seems very simple. An autistic, Australian woman gets ready for and then attends a party. This isn't a book about autism, but it is about an autistic person though that fact isn't ever stated within the text. The book itself is her stream of consciousness as she experiences this one evening. But within this seemingly simple premise is a secret pleasure of being within someone else's mind. I was completely enthralled by the writing (wishing I had a highlighter or pen on the plane with me) and the main character.⠀
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This book, like the unnamed narrator, is multi-layered and multi-dimensional. Our narrator is both confident and insecure, self-aware and clueless, profound and silly. At the same time, this book dips from intellectual to whimsical, observant to sensual, ecstatically joyful to detachedly hopeless. ⠀
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Page after page I found points of recognition, nuggets of wisdom, that made my heart speed up with the feeling of being seen. I finished this book feeling transformed somehow, and with a desire to live my life more intentionally. (And immediately wanting to read it again)⠀
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I am honestly shocked that is book doesn't have the hype it deserves. As a person who does not often give out 5 stars to books please know how serious I am when I say this book is one of (if not THE) top read of my year.

Such a beautiful, poignant, relatable book. I’ve never felt so close to a character. I’ve also never read anything from the perspective of an autistic main character, so it was really refreshing to hear that voice. The best part, though, was that was never her definition, but instead such a integral piece to her incredibly complex puzzle. Amazing, eye-opening reading experience. I know this is a story that will sit with me for a long time to come—I can’t get it off my mind.

"Energies and emotions affect physical reality just like sound, and gravity, and music, and oxygen do. They breathe, and expand, and throb, and rush, even if we cannot name or understand them It doesn't matter where we're from, or what we believe, or what language we speak. Millions of us are feeling the exact same way, and we are united because of it."

A ROOM CALLED EARTH is a fantastic and powerful book, and I am absolutely in love with Madeleine Ryan and her writing. I've struggled with writing this review because I feel as though nothing I say could possibly do this book justice. It's a story you really have to read for yourself in order to truly grasp and understand. It's a book that I have come to hold near and dear to my heart, and I find myself reading it over and over again. There are so many pieces of this story that resonated with me. As a fellow neurodivergent person with an inner monologue similar to one of the main character in this story, this book makes me feel SEEN.

The writing style is impeccable. This was my first experience with stream-of-consciousness writing, and Ryan has blown away every single expectation that I had. The plot, though it seems so simple on the surface, is such a journey. I loved how the narrator seemed to have such strong reactions to everything going on around her; how every single action or observation seemed to have a story or adventure all its own. This book brings life to the everyday, the mundane, the small things that many people tend to brush off as "boring".

As a debut author, Madeleine Ryan did a phenomenal job, and I look forward to reading any work she may publish in the future.

REVIEWED BY ANDREA DREILING OF PAPERBACK PARIS:

In Madeleine Ryan’s A Room Called Earth the narrator’s inner-dialogue is undeniably alluring. Her whimsical outlook and the piercing patter of her thoughts are the sorts that insinuate itself into your mind; pushes past the book covers that are supposed to contain it, and hovers in the gaps between your synapses as you go about your day. In a society that increasingly exists in online spaces and on social media, where neither loneliness nor honesty is rewarded, A Room Called Earth is a refreshing break.

The comparisons that have been made between A Room Called Earth and Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway are right on the nose, as both novels follow their narrator through the course of a day leading up to a party. Both novels imbue their protagonist with a subjectivity that allows readers to see the world from a completely new vantage point. And both novels are centered on upper-class women who are well aware of both the privilege and limitations of their niche in society.

One of the defining characteristics of the unnamed narrator in A Room Called Earth is her ability to be unapologetically authentic. To the reader, this trait comes across as admirable, but as the narrator points out, it is actually a social liability. “Mum was ashamed of my honesty and directness,” she tells us. This tension informs what is another of the protagonist’s defining characteristics: she struggles to connect with other people, admitting, “Connection with my own species has been difficult.” This trait is elaborated upon as she spends time at the party, alternately alone or in conversations that cause her to wonder more about the other person’s motivations than how to engage with them. In contrast, the narrator’s relationship to nature and objects is visceral. The way that she describes smells, food, flowers, her own home, is bursting with emotion, at times causing her inner-monologue to become elegiac.

Ryan was diagnosed with autism as she was writing A Room Called Earth and many aspects of her own neurodiversity show up in her main character. In a way, her own diagnosis transmuted into that of her character. As Ryan explained, the fact that she was writing an autistic character revealed itself to her after she herself was diagnosed with autism.

The fact of the narrator’s autism is not disclosed in the pages of the book, though it is conveyed to readers in the cover blurb and the publicity that the book has received. This makes me wonder how I would have perceived the character if I hadn’t known that she was autistic beforehand. This has caused the book itself to become a meta-performance of the act of disclosure. In a way, the character is “outed” by Ryan, and this informs what readers thought of the character as she transported them to the party and back amidst her exacting observations and sensuous experiences.

I imagine the decision to disclose their diagnosis is something that neurodiverse people are forced to grapple with, at least sometimes, when they are in social situations. When can this sort of admission be helpful? When can it harm? And whose place is it to say something? But, in the sacred space of her own thoughts, and the pages that hold them, the narrator is free from labels. Free to “let a goodbye be a goodbye and (her) life on Earth can be whatever it is too.”

Review appeared as a Starred Review in the 9/4/2020 issue of Shelf Awareness Readers
Link to review: https://www.shelf-awareness.com/readers/2020-09-04/a_room_called_earth.html

Text of review:

Madeleine Ryan's debut deserves comparison with Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway. As in Woolf's classic, A Room Called Earth takes place over one day and opens with a memorable protagonist preparing for a party.

Writing in a stream-of-consciousness style, Ryan reveals an unnamed Australian narrator who views the world through a quirky, insightful lens: "I want my life, and everything inside of it, to be absolutely mine. I don't want to be indebted to a laboratory, or to a plant, or to a guru, or to a doctor, or to some guy who cooks in his basement. I want to give myself to myself, fully." Strongly attuned to nature, she believes in crystal energy (she built an elaborate altar in her backyard), lives independently with her cat, Porkchop, and considers the deceased actor Heath Ledger to be her guardian angel. She anticipates an exciting evening of socializing and hopes "to leave people wondering, and nothing more. It's safe, it's sexy, and I want to live there forever. Mystery is my favorite accessory." Indeed, A Room Called Earth is satisfying while leaving unanswered questions.

Because Ryan identifies as an autistic woman, it is tempting to affix her narrator with similar labels or to parse A Room Called Earth for autobiographical clues. But readers who resist this temptation will discover a novel that beautifully shatters myths and stereotypes about people considered neurodiverse while celebrating their differing perspectives on life. --Melissa Firman, writer, editor and blogger at melissafirman.com

Discover: In this introspective and insightful novel set in Australia, a woman challenges societal norms and expectations of being neurodiverse and individualistic.

I was anxious to read this book after reading this article by Madeline Ryan . Even if you choose not to read her novel, I highly recommend the article anyway because Ryan will not only teach you something about autism and yourself, she will move you. I am so glad I read both .
(https://www.nytimes.com/2020/07/02/parenting/autism-children.amp.html)

I’m not sure when I last encountered a character who knows herself as well as the unnamed character in this novel or one who is so fully accepting of who she is even though she isn’t like a lot of people around her. She’s getting ready for a party for a good part of the book. Her preparation is sensual- the scent and beauty of her gardens, the feel of the silk kimono and black high heels she going to wear to the party. It’s sexual as she remembers past encounters with ex boyfriends. It’s intellectual and as she thinks about so many things- what it means to be Australian, the books she reads. This stream of consciousness is so intimate. There were times when I felt as if I was eavesdropping by being right there in her head.

At the party, it’s painfully evident how alone and separate she is from the rest of the people there, including an ex boyfriend and a woman she brunched with. She speaks with them, but is glad when the encounters are over. Yet, her underlying desire to connect and find someone who connects with her is real and relatable. She’s self aware in this first person narrative which is so intimate, so honest, reflecting the kind of gutsy honesty most of us wish we had with others and ourselves. There are many layers to this woman. This will turn on its head any presupposed ideas you may have had about autism. It’s unique, sometimes quirky, many times beautiful. I learned and I was touched .

I received an email copy of this book from Penguin Books through NetGalley and Edelweiss .

This book absolutely wowed me. Usually books without much dialogue bore me, but the inner thoughts of this character (very stream-of-consciousness-esque) were just beautiful and fascinating. Some of the most ordinary things became extraordinary in her mind, and in contrast some complex emotions and interactions were simplified in her mind’s eye. Her appreciation for life was admirable, from her f***-what-others-think attitude to her literal dancing in the rain. Yet she was also self-reflective, and would just casually contemplate her place in the world and even the ways the Australian Aboriginal population have been wronged at the oddest moments. Yet she never seems to let any of this overthinking hold her back, even as she reflects on her past relationships or bad memories. When she finds someone that she begins to feel a real connection to she focuses on that moment, and she never strays from her own beliefs or quirks. She probably had more thoughts in that one day than some people have in a month, and it was so interesting to get into the mind of an autistic person (from an own voice author).

What a refreshing novel! Told as a stream of consciousness, the narrator is a young woman who attends a party in Melbourne. The book consists mostly of her internal monologue as she observes other partygoers and remembers past scenes of her life, with some dialogue from the party interspersed. Topics of her musings include colonialism, feminism, imposter syndrome, social media, grief and more, and her insights are honest and straightforward. The author is autistic and has also said the narrator is autistic, though this is never explicitly mentioned in the story.

Wow. I’m not entirely sure where or how to begin reviewing this book except to say it has shot directly to the top of my best reads of 2020 so far.

In A Room Called Earth, Madeleine Ryan - a writer who has built a successful career changing the narrative around autism, girls and women with autism in particular - takes us on a one night journey of the inner world of an unnamed narrator as she navigates attending a party. Through a series of brief and deeper exchanges, Ryan introduces us to the complex prism of the narrator’s inner world.

Set in Melbourne, Ryan sets the scene of the narrator, a young autistic woman getting ready to attend a party the day before Christmas eve. Like any ‘normal’ woman, our narrator has a set of self-care rituals she finds comfort and delight in following as she gets ready for her night out. From rose, geranium and bergamot essential oils in her bath, to over-zealous coffee-scrub scrubbing, selecting the right outfit combination, down to the perfect nail polish.

It’s an excellent depiction of the anticipation that often accompanies the experience, but more than the physical aspects of this preparation is the acknowledgement of the wonder of interaction and engagement with others. Our narrator ascertains that:

“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.”

But she isn’t immune to the anticipation of socialising, even if for her the wonderment lays mostly in the preparation for it:

“And, right now, from my perspective, the people who are going to be there are made up of Futuristic Shadow Beasts Without Faces that are deeply impressed by me... And I hope that all of the Futuristic Shadow Beasts Without Faces are currently giving themselves the same rapturous, pre-party experience that I am because even if we don't get the chance to meet or to talk, we can remain in a state of wonderment together. My dream is to leave people wondering and nothing more. It's safe, it's sexy, and I want to live there forever.”

Throughout the process of getting ready, we are invited into the foray of the narrator's thoughts and given tiny snapshots into her life with her parents. Everything she shares is touched with a no-nonsense intellect that leaves very little room to argue with her logic. From contemporary Australian culture to relationship power-dynamics and self-awareness; to the commercialisation of female bodies, every thought-process is searingly truthful and insightful.

Arriving at the party, we experience the immediately identifiable (perhaps even cliche) individuals and groups of people we’ve all come across at such events through the intensely incisive, oddly charming and impeccably accurate lens of our narrator. Internally, she doesn’t hold back from her assessments and theorising of those around her. I found these sharp testimonies to be pierced with an authentic truth that hits you right where your own thoughts may have been hiding, with a resounding yes! Noticing another girl at the party in a gregarious outfit, our narrator observes her closed-off body language and notes:


“Although she desperately wants to be seen, she doesn't want to take up space. She doesn't know who she is. She can barely concentrate on the people in front of her because she's so overcome with a desire to take who they are from them.”

Several such instances occur throughout the night, and each time our narrator’s internal monologue is broken-up by sparse dialogue with those she encounters (including an ex-boyfriend). It’s a deliciously awkward accompaniment to the private thoughts we’ve been allowed access to, knowing how rich in intellect our narrator is juxtaposed with her reluctance (and the knowledge that she can’t) share what she’s truly thinking. Doing so would break the common social conventions she’s worked hard to understand. The result, however, is her seeming anti-social, aloof, and even rude personality. Only we know the truth.

I found Ryan’s write-up of the house-party atmosphere to be spot on. To be honest, I found everything Ryan wrote in this to be spot on. The unflinching analysis of male and female romantic relationships, told through our narrator reminiscing over past lovers, is something I feel certain every single woman who reads this will find something of herself in (especially the sexual encounters). The difference being, perhaps, that Ryan’s narrator never shies away from attempting to take ownership over what happens to her and drawing her own very firm boundaries around what she will and won’t allow into her sacred life. She isn’t scared to call-out the bias, inequality and outright ridiculousness of the men around her as she sees it. On a past love who refused to let her listen to the music he found meaning in, she thinks:

“His possessiveness in this regard said a lot about the relationship that he must have had to his own thoughts, and to his feelings, because if these musicians were giving a voice to them, and he didn't want to share that voice with me … Then I guess he didn't want to share anything with anyone at all. He wanted to experience himself, alone, in a room with the voices of people that he didn't know, and who didn't really care about him.”

At one point, our narrator strikes up a conversation with a man she meets outside the bathroom. The rest of the story focuses on the dynamic between the two, once again sliced between her internal monologue and their dance of dialogue. They leave the party together to head to our narrators home, sex is off the table but the offer a delicious sanga (sandwich) is too tempting to turn down. It’s here that we’re taken deeper into the growth of the narrator as she attempts to show her world to the man she has invited into it.

Through continued sparse dialogue, our narrator doesn’t hold back on what she thinks about the young man in her home. She gives her analysis, noting his reactions to her blindingly honest statements of the ways he acts around her. His initial confusion and frustration soften as her questioning actually cause him moments of introspection. What we are left with is an incredibly endearing moment of our narrator forging a moment of genuine connection, opening up her thoughts and home to the young man whose own intrigue around her allow him to take it all in his stride. I don’t want to give too much away on this part of the book because I found so beautifully written, but it’s the kind of interaction I think we all crave.

What we are left with at the end of A Room Called Earth is a deeply enriching experience of what it means to understand and pursue one’s identity, to speak out about what it means to be ‘us’ even when who we are is complicated and sits outside a ‘normative’ pattern of existence. It’s a witty, effervescent and joyful account of one woman’s journey through life and her capacity to find true moments of living within it.

Ryan has been an outspoken advocate of neurodiversity for a few years, and since finishing her book, I’ve sought out a few of her articles online. They’re brilliant and well worth reading. As someone who also works with young people diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder, this was an emotional and rewarding reading experience.

One I intensely encourage everyone to have.

This debut novel was such a surprise, and I found myself completely immersed in the simple yet impactful story. The entire novel takes place over one night, mostly at a party. It's a first-person story, told from the perspective of a young autistic woman. We follow her from her house to the party and then back to her house, all the while reading her narration of encounters, observations, and social constructs. It's a profoundly moving and impactful read, and I found myself reflecting on my own life and interactions every few pages. As for the writing, Madeline Ryan is an exceptionally talented and hilarious author. I look forward to reading whatever she writes next.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this title in exchange for an honest review.

Such an endearing character Ms. Ryan has conjured up here; one who manages to be completely unique yet relatable at the same time. I loved this!