Anthology: Marian Keyes fans will not be disappointed with this latest offering, a collection of short stories and autobiographical articles, and a follow-up to the successful Under The Duvet. Her signature humour is here. Romance, too. But for many, what may well appeal most is the insight this book gives into the author, writes Denise Deegan.
Keyes, we learn, is a feminist who loves high heels, make-up and health spas. She is an international bestseller with self-esteem issues and a "round and trusting face" that invites fob-offs from service providers. Now over 40, she is at last learning to draw the line, learning to tell people enough already. To her, exercise is torture. Welcome was the news that sunbathing is bad for you - because it's so boring and she tans unevenly. Keyes's life would be better without Christmas cards. Her father doesn't read her books. And her face is "asymmetrical".
This, like most if not all of her books, is a mix of light and dark and all the better for including the latter. The opening articles, grouped under the heading "Handbags and Gladrags", trip lightly over the subjects of beauty products, high heels, chocolate and spas. Being way too guilty an individual to enjoy any of the above, I was slow to engage. I skipped to the "But Seriously" section and began to relax. With alcoholism, poverty and orphans, I felt much more at home.
An honest chronicling of Keyes's addiction to alcohol and her lack of confidence (they are related) put the rest of the book into perspective. It meant more to read the light in the context of the dark. "Nice shoes" became more interesting when used as an excuse to deny alcoholism - people with nice shoes can't be alcoholics, the author once argued. Chocolate cake had more impact as a substitute to drink when reeling from a humiliating book review.
Keyes is nothing if not honest. Society has difficulty with the fact, she says, that her husband quit his job to work for her. In interviews, she has found that journalists are often more comfortable calling him her "manager" than quoting him directly when he describes himself as "a general dogsbody". Of their relationship, and on a lighter note, she is the one who puts black wine gums over her teeth "pretending to be a 70-year farmer chatting up an 18-year-old" while "himself" cuts the grass. He is not allowed be ill - it is his role to be the responsible one.
It is only when you have finished a book like this that its impact begins to sink in. It is good to read about a person, once suicidal, who has not only turned her life around but who uses her success to draw attention to those less fortunate (two articles are about charities she supports). At the risk of sounding preachy, if she can do this, why can't everyone?
There are things that Further Under the Duvet might have been better without, such as the article on Delphi spa and adventure centre, which gives too extensive a plug to sit comfortably between the covers of a book. And I wonder about Mammy Walsh as an agony aunt. A regular and popular character in Keyes's novels as the mother of grown-up daughters, perhaps she is better suited to advising her offspring rather than the world at large. As an agony aunt, it felt like she was being played too much for laughs. But it's a small point. Further Under The Duvet is worth the investment. Buy the hardback, though, as royalties from its Irish sales go to the charity From Russia With Love.
Denise Deegan is a novelist and freelance journalist. Her third novel, Love Comes Tumbling, will be published by Penguin Ireland next spring.
Further Under the Duvet. By Marian Keyes, Michael Joseph, 394pp. £12.99