It’s a little disconcerting when you finally get your hands on the second of a planned septology you preordered months ago and the first page tells you this isn’t the book you were expecting, we aren’t continuing with the story of T and the Scandinavian Star arson. Sorry, not sorry. Is Nordenhof simply toying with her audience or did she really decide to change course? After reading this deceptively slim volume I’m going to say it’s a little bit of both.
The Devil Book is a weirdly playful book, mixing prose and poetry, Nordenhof claims she has written an erotic thriller, but really, while less social realist than Money To Burn, it’s still a look at living, and loving, under capitalism, patriarchy, and neoliberalism. There is rage and anger in these pages, but also love and a biting humor. There’s no eroticism.
In the first part, a sort of meta novel, the narrator is in London during lockdown and uses the time to write about her time with T. This is a pretty detached recounting. After her disability benefits are cut in half she debates between suicide and sex work and chooses the latter. Part way through her journal, she breaks the narrative and hurriedly tells us how she made a deal with T - be locked up in a hotel room with him, ask no questions, but she can ask for anything she wants. This list gets funnier and stranger as she runs out of shoes and clothes to ask for and starts to ask for collectible furniture, art, and even a suit of armor. She can leave any time with a luggage full of cash. Sounds good, except you can’t pay your bills or rent with random cash. Years later she finds herself locked in with another man in another room; did she meet the devil again? Is love able to bloom under these circumstances?
Genre and narrative conventions are broken, reflecting Nordenhof’s anarchist perspective, as we switch to verse and back again and the devil becomes those under care while the state is a vengeful god. The last set of poems bring us back to the fire, our complicity, a mother’s love, the beauty to be found in life. There is a sense of hope.
I keep looking at that phrase: a PLANNED septology. Part of me wonders if we’ll actually get it and another part wonders if it will read as a whole. With the first two books it feels like we’re dancing around the idea and failure of the welfare state, the violence of capitalism. Not changing or saving the system, but breaking the whole thing down seems to be Nordenhof’s aim. Mutual aid, communes, radical openness are the possibilities. No matter where this series goes, I’m all in. The prose alone is worth admission.