I was drawn to this book by the funny title and the gorgeous yellow cover with the flowers and nice font. What I did not expect was to feel so understood and seen while I read it. The author perfectly encapsulates the loss of identity experienced in early motherhood and the bizarre often embarrassing ways it reasserts itself years later. In her case, with an obsession with Benedict Cumberbatch, which means this book isn’t a depressing tome about Why Women Feel Sad but instead SO FUNNY. I really appreciated the musings on why women hide what we love and, if we don’t, are asked to explain ourselves, while the dudes get to be obsessive about their bands or sports teams without anyone batting an eyelid. I wrote down too many quotes to pick just one, but I will say that if you’ve ever found yourself wondering when or if you’ll ever get to do something “just for me”, then this book will be your jam. Don’t worry if you’ve never seen Sherlock (I haven’t), this isn’t a book about that anyway. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
(Big thank you to NetGalley for the digital review copy😻)

Just finished an Advance Reading Copy of This is Not a Book About Benedict Cumberbatch by Tabitha Carvan, a funny and thoughtful memoir about removing the guilt from our ‘guilty pleasures’ and the importance of women in particular resisting the loss of and/or refinding the joy in the things we love. I feel like a better human and better feminist for reading this wonderful book. Bravo.

The title of this book caught my eye, I’m not an obsessive Cumberbatch fan myself although I do think he’s a great actor. The author became obsessed with him when she was a new mother and this book is her attempt to analyse why and if there’s anything wrong with that anyway. It’s an entertaining read, lots of laughs and smiles along with interesting anecdotes from lots of people who have the same obsession (including an academic or two).

‘If … I told you it was okay, not everything needs to be about making meaning, that not everything has to be justifiable as a good use of your time or mind - then, could you let … your body find its way towards loving what it loves? And what would that look like for you? It’s not that easy.’

Okay … you got me. With an intriguing title like that who wouldn’t pick it up! Tabitha takes her obsession with Benedict Cumberbatch to investigate how the reality of life for women - family, job etc etc - can take away from who you once were and rob you of some of the joys to be found in this world.

‘You should indulge in things which refresh your spirit or make you laugh or make you feel something.” She sighs. “People deserve indulgences. I wish they could do more. I tell them, ‘Go somewhere! Do something! Feel something! Anything!’

I am a little conflicted with this book. I was not sure whether to read it or not … undecided for the longest time. Eventually I took the plunge and ultimately was glad I did as I walked away affirmed and with many pearls of wisdom, joy bubbles and affirmations. Yet, I am here to say, this is most definitely a book about Benedict Cumberbatch. Now, whilst I like Benedict and find his work to be of the highest calibre, the constant mention (and I get it … he is symbolic as one example of what women of a certain age *cough … splutter* may embrace *figuratively speaking … although I am sure this author would like it otherwise*) it just became a bit too much at times.

‘I did not follow a route determined by the things I loved; the things I loved were determined by the route, my graduation from one life stage to the next. Which is why falling in love with Benedict Cumberbatch didn’t feel natural or unsurprising at all. It felt like a step backwards, in the very wrong direction.’

That has to be put to one side if you are to truly enjoy the many colours of this book - part memoir, part pop culture, part passion pursuit, part art dissertation on feminism.What this most definitely is a book about, is women. Why is it we often lose that spark along life’s journey and how to stand proud and embrace whatever our passions may be at any age. Here! Here! I fully support the key message that this book offers and I am ever so happy someone stood up and proclaimed “it’s okay!”

‘… motherhood is. The “shattering” is what the writer Sarah Manguso calls it in her Harper’s essay about writing and mothering: the “disintegration of the self, after which the original form is quite gone.’

So, the main message, find your thing! Embrace it! Squeeze every last drop out of it for life is too short to do otherwise. This book affirms that it’s okay to get ‘obsessed’, ‘carried away’, ‘ridiculous at your age’ or worried about what others may think. Tabitha’s book encourages you to recognise and find your lost spark and then build it into a great big fire that will lead you to joy and fulfilment.

‘I’m desperate for you to know that it’s worth it. Finding your thing, I mean. Feeling a spark of something, and instead of instinctively dousing it, fanning the flames.’

Women need more in their lives than the usual work and family. They need to play! If you feel that this may be something you have been unsure of or forgotten how to do, then this book is sure to both encourage and congratulate all manner of joyful pursuits at any age. Wise and witty - are you up for the challenge?

‘I need to recast myself in this story as someone who is doing what she wants, because she’s just as entitled to it as anyone else. And who should have started a lot sooner.’







This review is based on a complimentary copy from the publisher in exchange for an honest review. Opinions expressed in this review are completely my own. The quoted material may have changed in the final release.

This Is Not a Book about Benedict Cumberbatch by Tabitha Carvan is totally a book about Benedict Cumberbatch, but all within the context of finding something to be passionate about. You see, Carvan was embarrassed (and ‘….afraid, guilty…ashamed’) of her ‘obsession’ with a celebrity, and the book came about after she decided to explore where and how her obsessive thoughts/ shame came from.

What am I doing in the spare room, lit only by the laptop’s false dawn, while my family sleeps? Why am I, a wife and mother, creeping off in the dark to think about celebrity thighs? Why am I, a grown woman, sticking up pictures of a heart-throb on my wall? Not even in nice frames, but torn out of magazines and stuck on with Blu Tack! It will ruin the paint…

Fandom is nothing new – apart from notable movements such as Beatlemania and the Directioners, I remember my own teenage years (Rob Lowe! Michael J. Fox! Kirk Cameron!). Apparently there’s a group that identify as the Cumberbitches, although Carvan states that at the beginning of her obsession, she distanced herself from said group –

Brené Brown would say that the reason I squirm at the sight of the Cumberbitches isn’t because I’m embarrassed; it’s because I’m ashamed. They have put themselves out there, made themselves vulnerable and open to mockery. They have let themselves be seen, and to make myself feel better, I act like I’m cooler than that…

Carvan delves into the phenomena of teenage fans; the role of fan-fiction; and the fandom linked with motherhood (which is about renegotiating identity after becoming a mother). Each section weaves pop-psychology with Carvan’s own experience.

I mean, riddle me this: when something as objectively meaningful as motherhood left me feeling unfulfilled, why did I turn instead to something as gobsmackingly unimportant (no offence) as Benedict Cumberbatch? Of all things, why was that the trade I made? I had no time and space to progress anything of any substance in my life, and now, all of a sudden, I’ve made eight hours available to listen to Benedict Cumberbatch doing the voice of Rumpole of the Bailey on audiobook? Of course it felt wrong: it felt like being a bad mother. That is what it feels like to want more.

I found that the most interesting sections of the book examined the gendered approach to leisure and how we use our ‘spare’ time. Carvan draws on the work of Brigid Schulte, who coined the term ‘invisible leisure’, which she describes as leisure that is –

…productive, socially sanctioned activities like quilting bees, canning parties, knitting circles, or book groups which are, she says, truly ‘the only kind of acceptable and industrious leisure time most women have ever known’. Invisible leisure is typically task-oriented, often domestic, and ‘purposive’, she says, directed to meeting the needs of family, friends and community. You might look like you’re having fun…but you’re still on-call.

She goes on to say that the true test of leisure is not what activity you’re doing, but how that time feels.

When it happens, ‘pure leisure’ should feel like play, not work. You won’t be worried about whether everyone else is having a good time; you won’t be lumped with the labour – physical, mental, or emotional – of planning, delegating, and cleaning up; you won’t be doing it out of obligation, because you know it’s good for you. Pure leisure requires a deliberate choice to carve out non-purposive time just for yourself.

‘Pure leisure’ for women, Schulte explains, is ‘…nothing less than a courageous – subversive almost – act of resistance.‘ Carvan notes that generally speaking, ‘… men have done a much better job – a phenomenal job, really – of protecting play as part of their lives … I know men who take all-day fishing trips, and half-day bike rides, and overnight excursions to collectors’ fairs.’ Hmmm. I know lots of men who do these sorts of things every weekend.

I found something absorbing ten years ago when I started this blog. It is an absolutely delightful time-suck. I started it after reading Gretchen Rubin’s The Happiness Project (probably the only self-help book that I found ‘life-changing’, and after reading it I re-evaluated how I used my time). I think my blog fills the criteria of ‘pure leisure’. Equally, I have an annual trip to the beach for some concentrated pure leisure. Interestingly, this book helped shed light on why, when we are at the beach, I get very cranky when my husband schedules in multiple activities and visitors. I usually say to him that I need more ‘unstructured time’, but I might start calling it pure leisure.

It’s hard to slot this book into any particular genre – it’s part memoir and ever-so-slightly self-help, although Carvan does not have a barrow to push, or even checklists or suggestions of ‘what to do’. Rather, she uses her Cumberbatch obsession to say quite simply, find something you love and absorb yourself in it.

3/5

I received my copy of This Is Not a Book about Benedict Cumberbatch from the publisher, Harper Collins Australia, via NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.

I admit, I knew nothing about this book when I started reading it, the title just grabbed me and I had to see what it was about and I’m so glad I did.

This book is funny, engaging, thoughtful and very enjoyable. The honesty of the book is what shone through and really connected you to the all the pieces that Carvan writes about.

This is partly a memoir, partly a journalistic piece and mostly an investigation into the parts of us we sometimes lose as women. This was a joyous read and Carvan has a way of writing that makes you feel like you are part of the discussion too.

As much as the title says this is not a book about Benedict Cumberbatch, I certainly learned a lot about him, might have to go rewatch Sherlock! Or maybe Parade’s End as I have never seen that 🤭

“Find your thing, whatever it may be, and love it like your life depends on it”

This is a really lovely book.

This book tells readers to embrace what they love. That it isn't a waste of time or silly to pursue what you love.

You only live once, enjoy! Be passionate in your life and in what you love.

Don't let your space for joy be squeezed out of you by what society expects 'mature' women to choose as hobbies or passions.

When I first saw This is Not a Book About Benedict Cumberbatch on NetGalley, I skimmed over it, the cover making me instantly label it as chick-lit, which is not a genre I actively read, so I didn't bother looking at the blurb, even though Benedict Cumberbatch's name on the cover caught my eye. Then, a couple of days ago, I received an email from the publisher listing new releases, and this book was there, with the blurb below it. Instantly, I realised this was indeed a book for me, so I rushed back to NetGalley, thinking that if it was still available for request I was definitely meant to read it. It was, and I was pre-approved, so I took that as a sign and started reading that very night.

This book was perfect for me, because it is highly connected to my personal experiences. I am in my late 30s (I prefer that to 'nearly 40'!), but I get very passionate about things that interest me, be it a new musical, or an actor I've fallen in love with and whose backlist I am now tearing through, while Googling pictures and GIFs etc. I own my interests and generally don't try to hide them, although I might tone down my enthusiasm a little at work, just to be professional. However, it does still upset me when, in return, I get comments like "How old are you? You're not a teenager anymore", as if the moment I turned twenty I was no longer supposed to get excited about anything. I don't have kids like the author of this book, but I do have work, a household to run, chores to do etc. and I don't have as much time for myself as I used to. So, when I can 'play', why shouldn't I enjoy myself with something I love?

This is Not a Book About Benedict Cumberbatch showed me I am not the only one who feels this way, and I think it is a wonderful book for those who still perhaps feel ashamed or worried about their passions and interests. It is full of insightful comments and some wonderful moments of humour, and whether you are out about your loves or still keep them in the closet, I think you would get something out of reading this work, even if it's just to see that you are not alone. This book gets five stars from me. It was both fun and uplifting, and it was exactly what I needed after a busy period at work lately which had left me feeling flat and a bit down.

‘The thing about fantasy is it can’t be observed.’

Okay. The title intrigued me. I may not share this particular obsession, but I know what it is like to become lost in the juggling of life responsibilities that becomes reality when marriage, full-time work and parenting takes every waking hour. When almost every decision must be made through the prism of responsibilities to (and for) others.

So, what did I learn? Heaps. As Ms Carvan analyses her preoccupation with Benedict Cumberbatch, she realises that it is less about the man and more about the fact that she can feel passionate about something at a time when her life was full of responsibility. Many parents (not only mothers) can relate to being defined by our relationships to others (partners, parents, children etc) or responsibilities (jobs, volunteer work etc). Not a lot of time is left to pursue other interests, and by the time you have the time back (if you live long enough) it can be hard to rekindle old (or discover new) interests.

‘It’s funny how we decide what’s normal and what’s weird.’

Ms Carvan uses her obsession with Benedict Cumberbatch (yes, I know who he is, and I liked him in Sherlock) to examine what happens, specifically to women, after adolescence. I read this book, reminded of furious exhortations to ‘behave appropriately’, of the many pleasures denied after puberty as being ‘unladylike’. Sigh.
This is a wise and witty examination of the need for interests we can find joy in. Ms Carvan draws on academic sources as well as those who share her obsession. We need to play! And some of us will need to relearn how to do so.

Highly recommended.

Note: My thanks to NetGalley and HarperCollins Publishers Australia for providing me with a free electronic copy of this book for review purposes.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

I love diving into anything about fangirls so this book intrigued me from the get-go even though I have zero interest in Benedict Cumberbatch myself. While many of the concepts covered in the book weren’t new to me, Tabitha Carvan’s writing style in engaging to the point where you don’t mind reading another chapter about people obsessed with the British actor. The highlight for me was when the book looked at motherhood and how women can lose their identity and interests, especially when compared to men, and how obsessive fandom can emerge at this later time in life. A surprisingly joyous read.

Thanks to NetGalley and HarperCollins Australia for the review copy.

This book intrigued me and I found myself appreciating it more the further I got into it. At first I was expecting it to be more a general memoir but was surprised that it really is about someone truly obsessed with Benedict Cumberbatch (who knew that Cumberbitches are a real thing). This book goes much deeper though and makes you really reflect on what hobbies you have in your life and what is acceptable for both males and females, from childhood into adulthood.

I have found it. My first 5-star review for 2022. Was it the book I expected? No. Was I pleasantly surprised by it? HELL. YES. I picked up ‘This is Not a Book About Benedict Cumberbatch’ mid-morning as a treat while the washing was on. When I’d finished snorting my beverage outta my schnoz with laughter, something happened.

I forgot the washing. It had to be rewashed after it developed that funky fungus smell clothes get after sitting damp in the machine for too long. I then forgot to eat. Lunchtime came and went, unobserved. I was just too absorbed in this effervescent, self-deprecating, deliciously witty book.

Do not be fooled into thinking Tabitha Carvan’s book is a fluffy fangirl rant. There is, granted, some fan fairy floss (it’s Benedict Cumberbatch, after all), but beneath that sweet and airy layer is a smorgasbord of chewy caramel that will give your chompers something to work on.

Through the lens of the Cumberbitches fandom, Carvan explores (with extensive research) what it is that makes us so embarrassed to love the things we do. Why do the horse girls of our school days give up The Saddle Club for accountancy and suits? Why do we hurl ourselves wholeheartedly into passions as children, but shun them out of fear of judgment as adults?

I’ll admit it: I love Benedict Cumberbatch. It is an obsession that I, much like Carvan, cannot explain. In that respect, I do hold a slight bias when it comes to reviewing this book. But even if you aren’t a fan of Birkenstock Cabbagesnitch, the underlying message – to embrace the harmless hobbies that bring you joy – will appeal to anyone who wants to be brave enough to love seemingly silly things unashamedly.

So go on. Love your thing. Carpe the crap outta your Bene-diem. And read this wonderful book while you’re at it!

** Huge thanks to @netgalley for providing an eARC of the @harpercollinsaustralia publication in exchange for a review. I’ll be running out and buying myself a paper copy once it’s released in March!