“I want to read about the trouble a person might have with making things. About what might stop a person from making things, making art, I mean. Like money,” Nicola added, “or time.”

The Last Sane Woman is one of those confusing novels that makes my brain fire on all cylinders: format illuminates theme, messy but relatable characters unveil something true about humanity in the moment, and meaning comes as an epiphany in its aftermath.

The Last Sane Woman tells two intertwined stories, separated by several decades: that of Nicola, a young, slightly lost arts graduate, and Donna, the (now-dead) potter whose letters Nicola finds at a local feminist archive, with which she becomes increasingly obsessed.

While the concept of the novel - the melding of two narrative threads, told in part in an epistolary form, is undoubtedly an interesting one in principle (the synopsis felt reminiscent of Shola von Reinhold's much-acclaimed 'Lote') - in practice it unfortunately felt somewhat beyond Regel's skill as a writer. The two voices (that of Nicola and Donna) were written in such a similar manner that it was often difficult to distinguish between them; the dialogue rang, for me, hollow; the plot felt bloated, and yet at the same time unfinished or rushed.

I'm sure there are plenty of readers who will get a lot out of this novel - I think it has some good ideas about cultural archives and female friendships, for example - but sadly I am not one of them.

Thank you to NetGalley and Verso Books for the free ARC of this book!

Nicola Long is a young ceramic artist caught in the slog of day-to-day life in London. No longer making--and growing increasingly depressed and dejected amid the rat race--she finds herself at the Feminist Assembly. The FA is a small archive dedicated to preserving the record of female artists. The archivist suggests to her a collection of letters written by another potter to her childhood friend throughout her many years of the same struggle to work, live, create, and find a place in the art world, spanning some years of the 1970s and 80s. Nicola is told that the artist took her own life, but little else, including her name.

Nicola finds many uncanny similarities between herself and the potter and becomes a little more than fascinated with her. Jumping between present-day Nicola, text from the letters, and past potter, Regel weaves the stories of three women beautifully together across time. Nicola (and Regel) highlight stories of forgotten women. Regel's languid writing captures Nicola and the potter's devolutions into madness of equal measure. There is some really beautiful writing here, making The Last Sane Woman not only an alluring story but a true work of art to read. An interest in or knowledge of art is certainly not necessary to enjoy this novel but is an added bonus for those in that camp.

I really wish I liked this book more, because the premise sounded so interesting, but I just couldn't get into it. Perspectives shift between three characters but it's really hard to understand where things are shifting and everything just jumps around in a really unclear way. There's no real forward movement and the ending was super murky -- I couldn't tell if a character faked her own death or not. The idea was solid, but alas, not so much the execution.

The Last Sane Woman is one of those confusing novels that makes my brain fire on all cylinders: format illuminates theme, messy but relatable characters unveil something true about humanity in the moment, and meaning comes as an epiphany in its aftermath. Debut novelist Hannah Regel, primarily known as a poet, writes with an impressionist’s sensibility — POV changes abruptly, long passages read as out-of-place metaphors, close-up details are fuzzy until one stands back and considers the whole — and throughout, she includes so much truth about women: about how they present themselves, their friendships, and their place in the arts. If I had written a review immediately, I might have rounded this down to four stars, but the more I think about it, the more I like it: rounding up to five.