First published in Great Britain in 2020; published by Bloomsbury Circus on December 1, 2020
In exquisite and powerful prose, a nurse tells her story over the course of a few night shifts in a London hospital’s neonatal ward. The title notwithstanding, Laura gets no rest as she moves from baby to baby, changing lines and diapers, comforting parents, trying to relieve “the crushing weight of their worry.” She encourages fathers to hold their children rather than their cellphones. She dreads the death of her patients. Perhaps she should be thankful that her relationship with the partner who seems to despise her is ending, but he’s keeping the flat, forcing her to move into a single room in hospital residence housing.
There is value in reading about lives that a reader would never want to live. Holding a sleeping baby, Laura explains why she performs such a thankless job: “This is why I’m here. A sick baby on his way to being well. On his way to being well because of surgery, medication, holding, sleeping, something. I wish I knew which one it was because then we could do more. Save more babies. Sometimes none of it works. I think about this all the time.” Hers is a world of hope and despair in a constant struggle for supremacy.
Laura fears the struggle may be driving her mad. Perhaps it is. She is certain that she saw someone step onto the tracks of the subway she’s riding but the death she envisioned never happened. A coworker asks her what’s happening in her life “because you are always late and your hair is a bit of a mess and you don’t smell but it’s a slippery slope.” Death is never far from her mind. She starts the day on her last legs. In her sleep-deprived moments, Laura thinks she sees an apparition in black, perhaps the Grim Reaper, waiting in a hospital chair. The same figure haunts her dreams.
Laura’s life might be better without her partner, about whom we learn little. “I will miss the lick you give your lips before you speak,” Laura thinks to herself, “but I will not miss the words that follow and fall out of that wry wet mouth.” Yet it’s never quite clear whether it is her job or her partner or a traumatic event in her life that has shaped her sorrowed response to the days we glimpse.
A long road in Scotland is named Rest and Be Thankful, apparently because after a long uphill journey, travelers rest and are thankful they reached the top. Whether Laura will reach the top of her uphill climb, a place where she can rest, is unclear.
The novel is relatively short. It ends abruptly and ambiguously, resolving nothing. Readers who demand a plot won’t find one here. The story is simply Laura’s life told in a snapshot. The story left me wanting more but that’s better than a longer story that leaves me wondering why I read so many wasted words. The novel works because of Emma Glass’ ability to place the reader in Laura’s shoes, to make us feel her empathy, her frustation, her desperate unraveling.
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