Book Review: The Night Alphabet by Joelle Taylor
When I first stumbled upon The Night Alphabet by Joelle Taylor, it promised something distinctly captivating. With a blurb that hinted at time travel, transformative stories, and poetic prose, I found myself intrigued not just by the premise, but by the promise of language itself. Taylor describes this work as "queer futurism," a label that swirls with potential and creativity. Little did I know that this exploration would lead me through profound reflections on identity, memory, and the very fabric of womanhood.
At the heart of this novel is our narrator, Jones, a character who navigates the confluence of time—hurtling between the dystopian landscape of 2223 and the familiar yet haunting recesses of Hackney, 1996. The opening lines immediately hook you in, establishing a world rich in sensory detail and layered history. I particularly loved how Taylor brings to life a playground in the midst of urban struggle, where “the children in overlooking tower blocks might not be able to afford the daily entrance fee,” yet still manage to “catch the artificial breezes.”
The tattoos that carve themselves into Jones’s skin serve as compelling metaphors throughout the narrative. Each mark is more than ink; they’re artifacts of survival and testimony—an archive of experiences, a “necklace of holes” that threads together her history. This motif resonated deeply with me, capturing how our scars and stories shape our very essence, manifesting as “still frames” of our existence. As Jones muses, “a tattoo is a series of holes threaded together,” it speaks to the pain and healing intertwined in our lives.
The women in The Night Alphabet—Jones, Cass, and Small—represent a rich tapestry of resilience and complexity. Throughout their interactions, it’s impossible to ignore the book’s central theme of misogyny and male violence, subtly woven into the narrative. A haunting moment arises when Small questions why Jones only speaks of women’s stories: “Would you ask that of a fucking man?” This exchange struck a chord for me; it highlights how often female narratives are marginalized.
Taylor’s poetic writing style is both lyrical and arresting. She engages the reader with carefully chosen words, evoking a rich emotional landscape. Pacing is fluid, seamlessly weaving between narrative and reflection, but it also allows for those deeply contemplative moments that invite you to pause and consider your own experiences. One of my favorite quotes is, “The past is always slightly ahead of us,” a reminder of the unresolved intertwining of our histories that we carry with us, quite like Jones’s tattoos.
The Night Alphabet is not merely a novel but an entry into a broader dialogue about identity and the shared experiences of women—experiences often shrouded in silence. As I closed the final page, I felt a mixture of exhilaration and longing for the stories of Jones’s mother and grandmother, as Taylor intends this to be the first of a trilogy.
If you enjoy explorative, intense narratives woven with queer themes and a poetic essence, this book is a must-read. It resonates with anyone who has ever felt trapped in their own story, yearning for freedom, or simply wishes to immerse themselves in the depths of human experience. Going beyond mere storytelling, Joelle Taylor invites us to confront our truths—challenging, beautiful, and undeniably real. This is a reading experience that stays with you, and I urge you to pick up The Night Alphabet; it might just uncover parts of yourself you’ve yet to discover.
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