Lit from the Inside

Shelf Discovery was a book club who could argue about anything. They'd had mudslinging over misery memoir, locked horns over lauded literature, and even come to blows over blistering biography.

An improbable group of six, they’d begun as a meeting between friends which grew over the years. Their meetings were sporadic, their membership was eclectic, and their book choices, chaotic. But a more passionate bunch of readers you could not find anywhere. They read like their lives depended on it and argued like every word was theirs.

But even the most ardent among us sometimes needs a breather. Ava in particular was hoping that this time they'd keep it civil. At the very least, until she'd had her mint tea and biscuit.

Ava always cracked the door open first, wrapped in woolly jumpers and hopeful energy, biscuits in hand. She’d pass around bright crayon scribblings from the four-year-olds she taught. 'I can’t throw them away,' she’d say. 'And they’re prolific.'

Vera’s copies of the books were scrawled with increasingly irate marginalia; scribbling down the characters’ unchecked privileges like it was evidence for a tribunal.

Reeva spent her days in Human Resources and her personal life in Human Resources. She worked for The Business - and The Business was her.

Rey had read an essay by George Orwell, as part of the degree she was doing. It suggested interpreting high and low culture with the same critical eye. She’d adopted this as a value system.

Evaya, a local councillor, lived mostly in conflict - debating on doorsteps, stuffing leaflets through letterboxes, wrangling pigeon population control and arguing over whether the minutes really reflected the meeting.

Arya was the darling of the local amateur dramatics group, renowned for her sarcastic, postmodern Sandy in Grease. Visitors came to drink at the café where she was a barista from at least a five-mile radius.

With the hope of swerving a conflict, they'd gone in search of joy. Glowsticks was a recent release: a romantic comedy of the zeitgeist. A tale of modern love which buzzed with optimism. A snap of warm light to flood the darkness.

Surely, this book could radiate something - anything - to agree on.

After the chit-chat and drawings (winged creatures, thought bubbles, scattered stick figures) had done the rounds, Ava ventured the first reflection: ‘Well, I liked the ending,’ she said. ‘Especially after our recent reads.’

‘The grief memoir was quite heavy,’ Arya acknowledged.

‘Yes, and the eating disorder book before that,’ said Reeva. ‘Bring on the romcom.’

‘Who chose those books again?’ asked Evaya. The question hung, awkwardly, in the air - no one wanted to claim the blame. Best to lose the answers to the mists of time.

‘So - the ending,’ said Ava.

‘Yes, the ending was … nice.’ said Rey, who had never said the word nice. The bland agreeableness was jarring. ‘But - Sebastian did appear a little suddenly, at the end. Kind of late in the day for Avery’s big love.’

‘But imagine if he’d appeared earlier?’ said Ava. ‘’She wouldn’t have seen him. Wouldn’t even have thought he was an option. Too serious. Too adult. She was still seeing -’

‘The one failing his Medicine degree,’ said Reeva.

‘Then that other one -’ Ava again. ‘The -’

‘Judgemental politics guy,’ said Arya, rolling her eyes.

‘The barman,’ someone muttered.

‘The actual clown,’ said Evaya.

‘I didn’t get the issue with them,’ said Vera. ‘They’re presented as though they’re unserious, disposable counterpoints to our aspirational heroine. I really felt quite sorry for the clown fellow. And she doesn’t really know Sebastian by the end, not as a person. He’s just -’ she wrinkled her nose, ‘- charming.’

Ava flinched. ‘I … I felt like I knew him,’ she said quietly. ‘What about you, Arya?’

Arya sat back, folded her arms. ‘It just felt like the author was skipping something,’ she said. ‘Like she’s got this whole new life now - new city, new everything - and still we’re orbiting these men like they’re the centre.’

‘Exactly,’ Rey said, straightening up and pointing at Arya. ‘It felt like the actual love story was with London.’

‘Imagine,’ said Arya, her hands casting out in front of her, setting the scene, ‘if instead of the rave they’d just wandered the city. Like an echo of Dickens.’

Vera rolled her eyes, but held her tongue on the class politics of the flâneur.

Reeva too looked cynical. ‘Well she’d’ve got harassed, for a start,’ she said.

‘Shall we look up the discussion questions for book clubs at the end of the book?’ interrupted Ava, louder than was needed, flicking to the end of Glowsticks before anyone had the chance to agree.

‘Okay, so - what happens next for Avery and Sebastian?’ she read out. ‘I suppose… I feel hopeful for them? Whatever you think of him, Sebastian's got his heart in the right place.’

‘Ah, but don't forget Melody,’ said Reeva.

‘Who was that again?’ asked Evaya.

‘The one he was kind of seeing when they meet -’ said Arya.

‘Right,’ said Reeva. ‘Exactly. The one who gets binned off pretty soon - but not soon enough. Can't trust him.’

‘Isn’t that how people date these days?’ Ava asked, looking to Rey for validation.

And for a second Rey was younger than herself. A child, almost, sitting defiantly, hands over her ears. A glitch, a flicker, and she was a young adult again.

‘Are you okay?’ asked Ava.

‘I guess, people who date, do it like that,’ said Rey, apparently unaffected.

‘I think the lights are on the blink.’ Evaya got up to examine the switch.

‘I’m not saying she can’t have her fun,’ said Reeva. ‘But then she needs to get out. The whole thing's doomed from the start. He went behind Melody's back. He'll do the same to her…’ she flicked her hand dismissively. ‘They all do it. He is the glowstick. Won't last the night.’

‘He's a light in the dark,’ said Ava, becoming increasingly inaudible and cradling her Eat, Sleep, Rave, Repeat mug. ‘Glowsticks are rescue lights too. You break them open. It’s a moment of possibility.’

Up on a chair now, Evaya examined the bulb, which flickered. She quickly withdrew her hand.

‘Think you need to replace this.’

‘Who are you talking to?’ asked Vera.

‘To … um. Actually, whose place is this?’

‘Isn't it yours?’ asked Rey.

‘No,’ laughed Evaya, looking around. ‘I can't afford a place like this.’

‘What, a village hall?’ asked Vera, frowning.

‘We’re getting off track,’ said Ava. ‘Evaya, what do you think? What's next for Avery and Sebastian?’ Her question was hopeful, her voice searching.

Evaya looked at her like she was one of her constituents, and she was about to veto her project funding.

‘Honestly, I found it hard to finish this one,’ she said. ‘It all felt like a bit of fluff, you know?’

Of course Evaya wouldn't get lost in the ecstatic romance of a rave, thought Ava. The kind of love that’s more pulse than purpose.

‘I was thinking,’ Evaya continued. ‘Who even is this guy?’ she threw up her hands. ‘What does he do? Some city boy? She wanted to change the world at the start of the book - where did that go?’

Vera was nodding. ‘She loses herself. She loses the thread.’

‘But - he excites her. He’s a good guy,’ said Ava, her voice starting to shake.

‘For now,’ said Reeva.

‘Why does it have to be more complicated than that?’

Ava looked down, trying to gather herself. In her open palm, there lay - where had it come from? A marble-sized sphere of fire. She startled, clenched her fist. On opening it the flames were gone.

‘We’re a book club!’ said Rey. ‘Isn’t that why we’re here, to critique the book?’

‘I feel you’re all being very harsh,’ said Ava. ‘I just want to - I don’t know - enjoy something for once.’

‘I just feel as though the author missed an opportunity,’ said Arya. ‘But Ava, you don’t really need me to enjoy it, do you?’

Ava couldn’t explain it, but she felt like she did. She couldn’t answer. She looked around the circle, from face to face.

‘Wasn’t there anything anyone liked about the book?’ she asked, imploringly.

‘I liked the narrator,’ said Rey. ‘I believed in her character. Her voice felt very real to me.’

There was a murmur of agreement from the group.

‘Yes,’ Vera said, and Ava blinked - Vera, agreeing, really agreeing.

‘That’s why it was all the more sad when she abandoned her roots. In my humble opinion.’

Ava sighed.

‘Look,’ said Vera, brandishing her copy like an axe. ‘Fine if you live in fantasy land, but she’s a kid who grew up on street corners, like me. And I’ve never dropped my knickers at the thought of Prince Charming.’

‘You didn’t even think there was something beautiful about it?’ asked Ava. ‘The rave?’

‘You mean where hands over her identity to a nobody, an image, a suggestion of a happy ever after?’

Ava put her head in her hands.

‘It's a beautiful climactic depiction of new love. It’s underground, it's driving, it's hopeful -’ she said.

It's Pride and Prejudice on MDMA,’ said Vera. ‘Just stick her in a bonnet and call her ma’am. Only the middle class could snort this - a synthetic fairytale with a beat that’s as fake as the promises it drums out.’

‘I think the drugs are there to amplify their real feelings,’ said Ava.

‘Tell that to the kids who had to traffic that stuff across county lines,’ said Vera. ‘That’s real life.’

Ava’s eyes drifted to the table, scattered with children’s drawings, then to her copy of Glowsticks. ‘I just wanted this one to be easy,’ she said. ‘I can’t do this.’

She gathered her things, her footsteps sharp on the floor. She glanced momentarily at the mug under her chair. ‘No,’ she said, then spun back. ‘You can tidy that up.’

She marched towards the exit, but as she reached it she found that, like two magnets, poles aligned and refusing to meet, she was thrown backwards. Her bottom hit the floor. There were titters - smothered, but unmistakable.

‘You okay?’ called Reeva.

Ava pushed against the weight of the air.

‘I can't get out,’ she said, with a frustrated cry.

Evaya spoke. ‘It's not so bad, is it Ava? Surely we can disagree, and it’s okay?’

‘You don't understand - we can't on this one. I can't be outnumbered,’ said Ava.

‘I'm sorry,’ said Arya. ‘I can’t lie. I just didn't buy him.’

‘But you’re not sorry,’ said Ava, slowly. ‘You liked not buying him.’

‘Why does it mean so much to you?’ asked Reeva. ‘You don’t normally take this stuff so hard.’

Ava didn’t answer. Her fingers worked the edge of her sleeve.

‘Listen,’ she said, walking back over to the group, Glowsticks in hand. ‘Just listen to this.’

She inhaled.

On the inhale, the walls shifted. The lights went out. A shimmer emerged - subtly, before it bloomed, and a light display danced in the centre of the room. Somewhere on the edge of awareness, a low, repetitive beat began.

She opened the book. Pages fluttered like moths. Her thumb found the ending.

She read: “He snapped the pink glowstick and held it beneath their faces, illuminating them, just enough. ‘You make my edges blurry’, he said. And he didn’t say I love you and she didn’t say I love you but they just stood there, very still, eye to eye, as the beat went on, pulsing like their edges.”

Around the circle, the beat grew louder, and it sounded like something familiar - like something they didn’t realise they’d forgotten. Shadows got free of their objects, and covered the walls with their dances, embraces. Ava continued:

"In between the shards of light in the room were the memories of everything I’d been through. The starving times; the loss. But here in the light of the glowstick, the glow of his words, the glow of something new, they were shadowy friends, encouraging me: go on. It was time to redefine.”

As she read, glimmers popped into the darkness, spinning, carrying them out of their chairs, spiralling them wildly through the air, heady and more ecstatic with each word.

“I pulled us closer together, our blurry edges merging into one another, and as the sweet pink glow warmed us towards the dawn, we kissed.”

Silence. They were jolted back into their seats. A brash light bleached the room, wall to wall. They blinked, wincing.

Rey was the first to speak, shaking her head slightly, as if trying to rattle a meaning loose.

‘What does he even mean?’ she asked. ‘It’s pretty, but - what else?’

Arya was nodding. ‘Redefine. That’s what she says. And it’s him who helps her do that? Seriously? After everything she’s been through?’

‘It’s an homage to hedonism,’ said Evaya.

‘It’s a celebration of leaving yourself behind,’ said Vera.

Reeva saw it, though. She looked at Ava, at the red glow in her cheeks. The way she was lit from the inside.

‘Ava, my angel, you’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?’

Ava screamed.

Wings erupted from her back - enormous, seraphic creations, smashing outward through the plaster of the walls. The room cracked open around her. She rose; arms out, her hair, fire, her eyes, burning.

The others tumbled from their chairs. Ava, who brought the children’s drawings. Ava, whose every other word was a qualifier. Ava, who hoped. She hovered above them: supernatural, glorious, demonic.

‘Who’s first?’ she called, with fearsome joy.

The members of Shelf Discovery tried to scramble away, crawling over scattered papers and snacks, lunging for the exit.

‘Vera,’ she said, her voice amplified, and everywhere. ‘My warrior friend.’

Vera made a break for it.

‘I love you. But you’re only looking back.’

A protest formed on Vera’s lips, but before she had made a sound, before any sense could be made of what was going on - a fireball erupted from Ava’s palm, swallowing her whole. Smoke curled and vanished.

The others screamed.

With a quick gesture, Ava gathered all the chairs together, forming a barrier where the door waited - trapping them inside.

Evaya shifted, veered, sprinted toward the window.

‘Evaya,’ shrieked Ava, pulling her up, suspending her in the air. ‘Why can’t you just celebrate feeling something?’

With a sharp flick of her arm, Evaya crashed through the glass - she transformed into a river of sparkling shards, ascending instantaneously, and taking her cry with it.

‘Don’t hurt us!’ Rey’s voice trembled, holding out her hands towards the towering angel, scanning every wall for an exit. Behind Ava, the ceiling vanished; clouds rolled in, the wind blew squally and sharp.

‘You’re so clever,’ said Ava. ‘So analytical. And you, Arya,’ she looked at her with fiery kindness. ‘So imaginative. Always thinking about what could have been. But this story,’ and she drew her hands, palms out, up to her shoulders. ‘It needs to live.’

She thrust out her hands: lightning cracked from her fingertips, striking Rey and Anya dead on in the chest - and in a second, they were gone.

Only Reeva was left. She’d grabbed a chair and was holding it up above her head, the only shield she had against Ava’s ancient energy.

‘You don’t trust him,’ said Ava, with narrowed eyes.

‘I - I don’t know,’ stammered Reeva. ‘But I won’t stand in the way.’

Ava seemed to consider this for a moment, while the wind whipped up around Reeva. Finally, she spoke.

‘You with me?’

Reeva was a pragmatist. She nodded.

Down Ava swooped, and with mighty strength she swept Reeva up, lifted her in her arms like a bride. Up they went, out of the mire of debate and doubt.

Ava tilted her head skywards, to the rolling clouds.

‘Avery,’ she shouted. ‘That the ending you wanted?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes it is.’

‘Then stop thinking,’ she yelled. ‘Do something. Before they come back with their hang-ups and their criticism!’

She looked down at Reeva, cradled in her arms.

‘This way then,’ she said. ‘For now.’

And they rose above the clouds, towards what might just probably be - if they gave it a chance - a glowing dawn. A big, brightening sky. A happy ending.