I mean, on one hand it's Deborah Levy, and it's smart and thought-provoking, but it just did not excite me the way her books usually do.

The best thing about reading a lot, and watching a lot of movies, or listening to a lot of music is excavating references and realizing the ongoing conversations that animate all good art. To read Levy’s “The Position of Spoons” is to get at the bottom of an important mystery: how Levy became the fantastic writer that she is. But also why I find myself so hopelessly attracted to her fiction although I am not quite sure I have fully understood it. By which I mean to say that we seem to love many of the same authors. This collection of essays and meditations is truly at its strongest in Levy's literary criticism: her pieces on Leduc, Ballard, Beauvoir, and Stepanova were some of my favorite. Even when I wasn't familiar with an artist, she made them come alive. I was a bit less convinced with the few bits of short fiction, but not enough to spoil the rest of this beautiful book.

A brilliant read! Brevity is a difficult art to master and Deborah L has done this effortlessly . Absolutely loved the snapshots and snippets! Thank you Netgalley for my advanced copy!

I'd read anything written by Deborah Levy. Many of the essays collected in this collection have been previously published. Mostly this is the case for the book introductions, but I found out that some are extended versions of the published introductions.

The Position of Spoons is a rich mosaic of thoughts from Deborah Levy, blending wit, erudition, and introspection. This collection brings together 36 essays, many previously published, where Levy shares her reflections on everything from the allure of Colette to the beauty of lemons on a table. While the work may not offer a new novel or autobiography installment, its charm lies in its exploration of Levy's intellectual curiosity. For those familiar with her, the essays are a window into her creative process, and the ones based on her personal experiences are especially delightful. Levy’s voice remains as engaging as ever, inviting readers to reflect on the small wonders of life through her eyes.

The Positions of Spoons was an interesting essay collection. I didn't always know who she was referring it (famous writers, etc) but I liked her thoughts.

The Position of Spoons feels like Polaroid photos of Levy's ideas. A snapshot. There are many essays that I would have loved to see expanded ( mostly the essays on writers and artists. There could have been more retrospection in regard to the way the artists influenced Levy.

This is maybe a good collection to read after the Living Autobiography series. As an introduction, I feel like this would be the reason why a lot of people would turn away from Levy's writing.


I read this in one sitting. Levy's writing always has a way to keep your attention.

The description of the book sums it up best: “A feast of observations about everything from the particular beauty of lemons on a table, to the allure of Colette, to the streets of Paris, by the inimitable Deborah Levy.”

Feast yourself on poetic vignettes with carefully chosen words that paint a picture of ordinary things in a personal light.

It was Deborah Levy’s name that enticed me to request this collection of her articles from NetGalley, but as I read, my heart sank. It seemed to be a collection of literary criticism that flew above my head, discussing (mostly French avant garde) authors I had never read: Colette, Marguerite Duras, Violette Leduc. But then in hopped Levy the memoirist with her funky shoes, her peculiar neighbour and her A to Z of celebrity death by driving. My favourite section was Charisma, poking fun at a Liz Truss-like robotic communications trainer at a university.

Though the literary criticism landed like a lead balloon, her writing about artists was far more interesting, mostly because I had to google the artists’ work to find out what she was referring to. Look up Meret Oppenheimer if you don’t know her: an astounding body of work. Levy includes the poem X = Freedom, which she was commissioned to write for the opening of an exhibition of Oppenheim’s work in Rome. She also includes a little advice to authors and discussion of what it is to be an artist or writer. When I went to mark ‘The Position of Spoons’ read on Goodreads, I noticed that it seems to have been published first in 2023 in France as ‘La position de la cuillère – et autre bonheurs impertinents’ (The position of the spoon – and other impertinent joys), which perhaps explains the predominance of French novelists.

The titular piece is a story about a time when Levy had the upstairs apartment in a house with a somewhat eccentric older man living downstairs. Whenever her Italian lover arrived every second weekend, he was first waylaid by the neighbour; they seemed to have a mutual appreciation society. Oddly, there is no mention of spoons. They are, however, referred to in the piece Watery Things, which is prefaced by a sentence from T.S. Eliot’s 1915 ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’, “I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.” In it, she writes how she feels she has measured out her life in seafood and swimming in various rivers and lakes, but what of a mother’s love?

“There are sea urchins that are almost immortal, older than the mortal mothers and their mortal children fleeing from wars on boats that sometimes sink. Life is only worth living because we hope it will get better and we’ll all get home safely. If we were to measure the love of mothers for their children with coffee spoons, there would never be enough spoons for that kind of love.”

Throughout this diverse collection of Deborah Levy’s work, I kept seeing connections that she didn’t necessarily intend. Of course, she chose what to include, so maybe she did. Or perhaps she has always written about the sea and swimming. One of her novels is called ‘Swimming Home’ and the other, ‘Hot Milk’, is set in a clinic in Spain, where I seem to remember the daughter spending a lot of time on the beach as her mother undergoes treatments at a temple-like medical spa for an on-again-off-again debilitating condition. I really need to read that again; I rushed to finish before a book club meeting. Luckily I have the ebook. Just looking through the passages I highlighted as I read, I’m noticing things that crop up in the pieces in ‘The Position of Spoons’: shoes, the sea, an axe (“My love for my mother is like an axe. It cuts very deep.”).

Many of the articles in this collection are related to early 20th century female authors and artists who spent time in Paris, often surrealists or avant garde. Apart from Simone de Beauvoir (whose girlhood friend cut her feet with an axe), I haven’t read any Colette, Marguerite Duras, Violette Leduc. I can’t say I’m particularly engaged by Levy’s more pretentious literary articles. I did find her articles about women artists much more interesting, perhaps because it’s easier to look them up and scan through their major works than it is to get an idea of an author’s work. I had only heard of one of these artists, Paula Rego, and I only realised that when I recognised one of her paintings, The family (1988), presumably from an article I read when she died. I found an excellent overview of her life, explaining the context. https://www.jimcarrollsblog.com/blog/2021/9/14/paula-rego-strategies-for-subversion It appears to be the female members of a family taking revenge on a suited man sat on the edge of a bed; knowing that her unfaithful husband became dependent on her in later life as he was paralysed by MS puts is useful background knowledge, but still leaves the question of what’s happening in the painting.

It’s the background details that make Levy’s pieces about women artists more compelling than those about authors. The similar timeframe for their earlier works links the women together as a cohort. The photographer Lee Miller was in a relationship with Man Rey and it was he who took photographs of Meret Oppenheim, a German-Swiss woman who had the most phenomenally varied output of incredible art throughout her long and independent lifetime.

Deborah Levy tells us that she looks things up online while she’s writing. The ability to do just that while I’m reading has greatly enhanced my experience of this collection of her writing and enthused me to read more of her fiction and autobiographical work.

I will always read everything that Deborah Levy writes and will always find something to connect to and enjoy, but this collection of essays was a little hit and miss. Most of the pieces were entertaining and engaging but a few of the pieces felt like fillers. I would have liked more information on why she wrote each piece, where it was first written or published, in response to what etc.

Having previously read her 'living autobiography' trilogy was beneficial too, as some background details appeared in the essays that newcomers may not understand. The Position of Spoons is great for fans of Levy, but perhaps not the best place for new-to-Levy readers to start.

[link to blog review will be added soon]

Though I found this collection ultimately too sparse to fully satisfy, there's no doubt in my mind that Deborah Levy can string a sentence together.

Her observations are sharp and thought-provoking as ever, and though I would have liked to see them fleshed out further, I think this is more an issue of collation, editing, and arrangement than content, considering few of these (very short) pieces are new, most of them having already been published elsewhere. The vast majority of them manage to stand on their own two feet, but did not always rub shoulders with their page-mates in the most flattering way.

This book is full of short stories. Interesting at times. A little boring otherwise. A little self important DNF
Thank You to Farrar, Straus and Giroux for an ARC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

3.5 stars rounded up ⭐️

this was an interesting little collection for the deborah levy completionists out there (it’s me, hi!) it’s made up of super short pieces, mostly about other authors/books and works of art. the pieces about violette leduc were great, as well as the introduction to the inseparables by simone de beauvoir - i hadn’t realized there was a version translated by lauren elkin with levy’s introduction, so i need to get my hands on that ASAP. the pieces about paula rego and maria stepanova got me interested in both of their work, which i was previously not familiar with.

there are also a few more personal pieces that were standouts for me: letters to a stranger, which was written for her mother when she was hospitalized; and the psychopathology of a writing life, which is about levy’s own creative process.

i wish that more curation and organization had gone into this collection. it would’ve flowed better if it had been split up by topic. i also think some of the shorter pieces could’ve been either cut from the book or expanded upon. i really love when levy gets a chance to go into detail about an author or book, as with the pieces i mentioned above. i understand that most of these pieces have been previously published elsewhere, but the brevity and lack of context for some of them made the book feel a bit disjointed at times.

Deborah Levy has a knack for capturing a moment succinctly and vividly. With very few words she paints whole worlds of thought and possibility. Her ability to see, really see, and then translate what she notices into words is a precious gift. I finished this book grateful to have the opportunity to read it. Thank you to the author, publisher, and NetGalley for the eARC.

I love the essay format. The constraint of writing within a particular setting and length brings out the best in writers, forcing an economy of words and a narrowing of focus. These essays were originally written for a variety of purposes. And yet there is the through-line of Levy's piercing gaze and thoughtful dissection, whether talking about shoes or lemons or Simone de Beauvoir. The collection is littered with prose which made me catch my breath, I was constantly stopping to reread a line or paragraph.

I am new to Deborah Levy and this book of stories and essays put on display her wisdom. This seems like a book for her fans who will read anything she writes. I enjoyed to know where her mind wanders and will def read anything else she writes.

Thank you, NetGalley, for the chance to read this collection. The author has done it again. Each story builds to show the reader what women have done and can do. I will not leave spoilers and will always ensure my spoons are full because you never know. This delightful and strong book will be added to my holiday gift list. Thank you, Deborah!

A series of short essays, meditations, poems and other forms of creative non-fiction, The Position of Spoons is a lovely if too short set of works. I did really enjoy it, however. It’s got a wide ranging set of topics, from simple beauties to literary criticism to regret.

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Levy's own nonfiction Lydia Davis collection. Little lifelines of wonder, vignettes that are an homage to attention. A lovely compilation of observations.

While I wish certain things were explored more, I respect how this was formatted and I'm left with a lot to think about. Deborah Levy has a way of writing that can say things I've never found the words for, while also exploring topics in a way that opens my mind. I'm fascinated by her thinking and her writing.

Levy remains one of my favorite essayists. Her work is like listening to an old friend. The Position of Spoons is yet another example of how meditative and deep she can make the seemingly mundane moments of life feel.