Tag: suicide

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International Booker Prize

Photo credit: Anne Whitehead

I was delighted to receive a recent invitation from Anna Walker, senior arts and culture editor at The Conversation, to contribute to a review piece of the books on the shortlist for the International Booker Prize 2024. I am an admirer of the International Booker not only for its commitment to literature in translation, but also for its explicit recognition of the translator, who shares half the prize with the author. This year, the judging panel was chaired by Eleanor Wachtel, and included poet Natalie Diaz and artist William Kentridge.

I was asked to review Jente Posthuma’s What I’d Rather Not Think About, which was translated from the Dutch by Sarah Timmer Harvey. Readers of this blog will recognise my research interests reflected in the work, which documents the grief process of a younger twin following the suicide of her brother. Posthuma’s novel was published in the Netherlands in 2020 and was shortlisted for the European Union Prize for Literature in 2021. Her first novel, People Without Charisma, was published in 2016, also to wide critical acclaim.

Given its subject matter, What I’d Rather Not Think About is surprisingly readable, in part because of its tone. The narrator – known to us only as Two because she was the second born – reflects with wry humour on her situation. The book also reads as a series of interconnected flash fictions. It came as no surprise to read that Posthuma is a fan of American short story writer Lydia Davis: her prose echoes Davis’s precision, and Posthuma also shares Davis’s interest in probing questions of intimacy and distance. The brevity and concision of both writers focuses our attention on what is unsaid, as much as on what is expressed.

The winner of this year’s International Booker Prize will be revealed at a ceremony held in the Turbine Hall at Tate Modern, on Tuesday 21 May.

The article in The Conversation, which contains mini reviews of each of the shortlisted novels, can be accessed here.

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Facing the Future

Photo credit: Anne Whitehead

Last week, I spoke on the phone to Alison Shindler about the Facing the Future Support Groups for those who have been bereaved by suicide. These online peer-support groups are run by the Samaritans, and Alison is a Facing the Future Facilitator and the Samaritans London Region Partnership Officer. We talked about the free support service that is available through Facing the Future for anyone who has been affected by suicide loss.

Alison began by explaining the origins of Facing the Future. The scheme started in 2011 and was prompted by the recognition that there was little specialist support available for those who had been bereaved by suicide. To address this gap, the central London branch of the Samaritans joined up with the Kensington and Chelsea branch of Cruse Bereavement Care to combine their expertise in suicide and bereavement counselling respectively. Face-to-face groups were set up, originally in London, and provision was then expanded to selected areas in the UK. Participants found the groups made a real difference to them in navigating their loss and helping them to feel less isolated.

Alison outlined that the support groups were moved online during the Covid-19 pandemic. Although this was originally in response to lockdown, it became evident that there was a value in continuing to meet online after the restrictions were lifted. It meant that those attending did not have to travel to the group (with the related costs in terms of time and expense) and it also helped participants to be in their own familiar space after the meeting had ended. The move online also meant that the support groups were available to anyone with access to the internet. In my book Relating Suicide, I reflected that suicide support is often focused in cities in the UK, and that an ongoing challenge is to build and sustain networks of care in rural, coastal, and island locations. The online network of support offered through the Facing the Future scheme is a good example of bereavement care rippling out from London to other areas of the UK, and then reaching beyond this to include more remote and isolated locations.

The support groups meet every week over a 6-week period. Groups are closed, to offer a safe space for participants in which trust can develop between the members. Each group has a facilitator but there is no agenda to the conversations, which are directed by the participants themselves. Facilitators are there to ensure that everyone has a chance to speak and to support anyone who becomes upset or distressed. In this way, the emphasis of the groups is firmly on peer support. I wrote in my book of the importance of lived experience to the understanding of suicide. Facing the Future offers a positive model of foregrounding the value of lived experience, in its central commitment to enabling those who have lost a loved one to suicide to offer support to one another.  

I was interested to hear from Alison that no one bereaved by the same loss participates in the same group, so that group members can speak freely and feel they have their own space. Unlike some other suicide bereavement support organisations, Facing the Future does not organise groups according to the relationship of the bereaved with the person lost; support groups are not made up solely of parents or of siblings, for example. Equally, participants in groups might have been bereaved a few months earlier or decades before. Alison explained that this broke down the assumption that a similar type of bereavement or time period since the death might give a greater connection with someone, when connection with others’ experiences can come from many different aspects of the experience. Equally, the mixed constitution of the groups enables participants to hear experiences that are different from their own, which might increase their understanding of how suicide loss is affecting those around them. For example, a parent could learn from a sibling in the group how the suicide of their son or daughter might affect surviving brothers and sisters. Having lost my sister to suicide, I would certainly have found it helpful to hear not only from other siblings but also from parents and friends about how they experienced their loss.

Alison and I ended the conversation by reflecting that most people are related to suicide in some way, if not directly through the loss of a family member, then perhaps indirectly through the experiences of a friend or a colleague. I mentioned that whoever I have talked to about my own experience has had their own relation to suicide to tell. Yet it is still a topic that is hard to speak about. The supported safe spaces that schemes such as Facing the Future offer are vital in this context, enabling members of the group to share their experiences of loss and to learn from the perspectives of others.

You can learn more about Facing the Future, including how to register interest in joining a group, here.

Many thanks to Alison for speaking with me about Facing the Future and for sharing the important work that the Samaritans are doing to support those bereaved by suicide.                       

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Suicide Cultures Seminar

Photo credit: Anne Whitehead

On 18 May 2023, I was delighted to contribute to a seminar series hosted by the Suicide Cultures team at Edinburgh University. The paper I gave was based on the third chapter of my recent book, Relating Suicide. I countered the understanding of suicide as a solitary act by tracing how it ripples out through a diverse range of bodies, institutions, and objects. Conceiving of suicide as inherently relational, I thought about the ways that its dispersion connects lives which are otherwise unrelated. I also thought about the ways in which the act of suicide relates human and non-human lives and agencies.

In my paper, I focused on Orlando von Einsiedel’s 2018 documentary Evelyn. This beautifully made film charts von Einsiedel and his family as they start to talk about his younger brother, Evelyn’s, death by suicide a number of years earlier. Evelyn’s family and close friends share their memories of him, and talk about the effect his death has had on them, as they walk in places that Evelyn had loved. In this way, place and landscape forms an important element of the film, as does the act of walking itself. The family speak to other people who have lost loved ones to suicide, meaning that their walks also map Evelyn’s death in relation to other deaths that they learn of along the route.

The care that the family shows for each other ripples out to other people in an expansive gesture that is also evident in the screenings of the film at cinemas around the UK. Each of the screenings, which are timed as afternoon matinees, has a family member present for the post-show discussion and audience members can also choose to go on a local walk with others who have been affected by suicide. When I first saw the film screened at the Tyneside Cinema in Newcastle, I was struck by the distance from which families had travelled to see the film and by the shared desire to share their experiences in the post-screening discussion. Borrowing the idea of ‘promiscuous care’ (The Care Collective, The Care Manifesto, 2020), I thought in the paper about the ways in which the film generates community and solidarity around suicide by harnessing the potential of the local, as well as pointing to the important role that networks of peer support can play in supporting those who have been affected by suicide loss.

Many thanks to Amy Chandler and the Suicide Cultures team for including me in their seminar series. The discussion after the talk raised important questions about the unsettling quality of the place where a loved one has died by suicide; how we define places as rural, urban, coastal, etc., in identifying them as sites of suicide; and the potential of creative responses to suicide for navigating the ongoing relation to the place where a loved one has died.

You can watch Evelyn on Netflix.

You can access a video of my talk here.

You can listen to the related podcast here.

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Speak Their Name

Yesterday, I went to see the North East Speak Their Name Suicide Memorial Quilt, which is currently being exhibited at Newcastle Cathedral. The Speak Their Name movement originated in Manchester and the first memorial quilt was made during the pandemic. The North East project was led by Tracey Beadle of the charity Quinn’s Retreat and Suzanne Howes, both of whom have lost children to suicide.

The quilt is made up of three panels with 120 squares in total. Working with suicide bereavement groups across Tyne and Wear, Teesside and County Durham, the project provided a supportive community for those bereaved by suicide to remember their loved ones by making their own square. Looking at the panels, it was evident how much care had gone into the design and making of each square, and they spoke powerfully to the lasting impact of suicide loss.

Some of the squares used photographs of loved ones to make portraits of them as they are remembered now. Kelly’s aunt used a photograph of her niece to create a cyanotype on the fabric, capturing the lovely young woman that she was.

Dyllon’s mother used a photograph of her son that was on his laptop and that he himself had drawn. Tracing over the image, she sewed in details to celebrate her son’s artistic nature and love of Goth.

Other squares focused on the person’s passions. Paul was remembered by his aunt through a nurse’s uniform and stethoscope, representing his ambition to be a nurse and his commitment to his studies through a life-threatening illness. The square also celebrates the qualities of compassion and care that drew Paul to nursing as a profession, and that characterised him as a person.

Samuel’s brother shared his passion for football and they often went to see Crystal Palace together. He used the shirt that his brother wore to the games to make his square, and sewed onto it his name and the age he was when he died. Samuel had worn the shirt to the FA Cup Final in 2018.

A number of the squares had quotations embroidered onto them. Graham’s son wrote onto his square the words of a song that his Dad used to sing to him every evening when he went to bed.

Mark’s son remembered the Moomins book that his Dad had given him, and which became a firm favourite. He embroidered onto his square an image and a quote from the book.

Naomi’s best friend turned to the poetry she has read as a source of comfort and connection since her death, and her chosen quotation from Emily Dickinson was a poem that she felt Naomi would have loved.

Graham’s daughter-in-law also looked to where she had found comfort and solace since his death. Her square represents Lochranza Castle on the Isle of Arran, where she and her husband had felt a strong connection with Graham through the beauty of nature. Sand gathered from Lochranza beach has been attached to the square to form the shape of Arran, together with a magpie to represent Graham’s love of Newcastle United.

These are only a few of the squares sewn into the panels; each of them gives a vivid and intimate portrait of a person who is loved and who was lost to suicide. The inscribing of the names speaks a loss that is socially difficult to communicate and often silenced. The squares also speak eloquently of creativity and community, balancing grief with hope.

The quilt will be on display in Newcastle Cathedral until 27 March 2024.