The first love of a teenage girl is a powerful thing, particularly when the object of that desire is her best friend, also a girl. It's the kind of power that could implode a family, a friendship, a life. On a quiet summer night in Newcastle, 1972, a choice must be to act upon these desires, or suppress them? To live an openly queer life, or to try desperately not to?
Over the following three decades, these two lives almost intersect in pivotal moments, the distance between them at times drawing so thin they nearly collide. Against the backdrop of an era including Australia's first Mardi Gras and the AIDS pandemic, we see these two lives ebb and flow, with joy and grief and loss and desire, until at last they come together in the most beautiful and surprising of fashions.
A Language of Limbs is about love and how it's policed, friendship and how it transcends, and hilarity in the face of heartbreak - the jokes you tell as you're dying and the ways laughing at a funeral softens the edges of our grief. An unashamed celebration of queer life in all its vibrancy and colour, this story finds the humanity in all of us, and demands we claim our futures for ourselves.
This was hands down the best thing I’ve ever read in my entire life. I didn’t know it was possible for someone to write so beautifully and poetically whilst telling the most amazing story at the same time. Every single word broke and remade me and I think I should reread this book yearly for the rest of my life. My life goal is to be able to write, tell stories, and make people feel things just half as much as Dylin Hardcastle does. I definitely have a new favourite author. 1000000/10!
“And I get the sense that the word family means something else in this sentence.”
“Because a love that never could be, is now the love that never was.”
I am not sure any of my words can give this incredible book the justice it deserves. It’s raw, it’s emotional, it hurts, it’s real. No blurb or review can truly express the beauty of this book unless you read it for yourself.
This story is told in two perspectives; two women, their choices; to live an openly queer life or to try not to. They live parallel lives that almost cross over, two very different lives, two different paths but often going through the same pain, trauma, loss and heartbreak until one day they come together. So many tears were shed throughout this story. I don’t have the words.
The writing in this book is lyrical, it’s poetic, elegant and expressive, unlike anything I have ever read before. It’s about family, the ones we are born into and the ones we make ourselves. It’s above love and death. It is incredibly powerful and moving as well as painful, devastating, crushing and heartbreaking.
There’s a lot more I could say but I’m unable to put it into words. I think you just have to read it. I highly recommend it and it’s definitely now one of my favourites. I don’t re read books, but I will re read this book.
Thank you Dylin, for writing this poetic masterpiece. Thank you so much to the team @macmillanaus for sending me a copy to read and review.
Damn this book was stunning - it had me smiling and then rather quickly sobbing in my bed but still not wanting to put it down.
Hardcastle style is lyrical as they explore two differing queer stories - "limb one" a lesbian woman living a very openly queer life and "limb two" a pan woman trying to hide and then come to terms with her truth. While they are very different stories they intertwine and bypass each other like a braided river, and Hardcastle masterfully plays between the two stories so that the reader can simultaneously keep clear track of each woman's powerful and often devastating journey but also could not be blamed for thinking they might be different sides of the same coin.
The exploration of families (blood and created) as well as joy, loss, grief and art were beautifully done and the detailing of the AIDS crisis and its impact on the queer community hit with appropriate devastation. Would be an out of the park 5 stars except for the last two or so chapters where the anonymity of our two limbs was shattered in a way I didn't feel was necessary. Loved, loved, loved none the less 💞
This book is unlike anything I’ve ever read. Dylin’s poetic prose captures this story as it will capture your heart. The structure is genius, telling the stories of our two main characters back and forth as their lives parallel and intersect.
I grew more and more in love as I read and was so amazed at the beauty that unfolded within these pages.
The repetition between characters was so emotionally powerful and so much of what was said in the novel about the art/writing/creative ventures of the characters was reflected in the writing of this.
There is a line in the book about things that can’t be expressed in words and that is exactly how I feel about this book.
it feels sacrilegious to rate this in such a way because i had such high expectations for it. ultimately a suffocatingly overwritten book that stripped it of any real rooting in location and time. knowing and loving the venues this book was written about i felt even sadder for not having loved it… the first time i went to the bearded tit was with one of my lifelong friends who was the first person to ever refer to me as butch, and i wanted so badly to love this book for the love that i have for the places it refers to. the separate stories had no distinguishing voice between them where i didn’t realise until around the 100 page mark that it was two separate characters, instead of a ‘now’ and ‘then’ between the same character. the limb two narrative was emotionally stunted until around the last 50 pages, in which the author tried to rush tragedy in such a way that felt it had no room to breath in the context of the rest of the book. i found no connection between the two stories and found them a disservice to each other’s narratives - each connection that was made between them felt contrived, only there for the purpose of proving that the stories were truly connected. and the ending made me so angry it stripped little dave’s narrative, the only one i found any particular meaning within, of all it’s grandeur for me. this is definitely a novel that some people will love, but unfortunately that does not include me!!
i don’t even know how to put how i feel about this into words. i felt grief and i felt joy and i felt so goddamn lucky to be in this body and in this life while reading this. “i finish the collection with tears in my eyes, breathless and aching, because here are words. here is language.” i hope one day i’ll have something like this, that someone will read my own words and feel the way i do right now.
"Love is love" but that's not really true is it? Love is sometimes shame, denial, anger, secrecy, hate, fear. Love is not the same for everyone. The same freedoms to express love, joy and emotion are denied many.
This book made me sad on a deep level. It ripped my heart out and spiralled my mind into places and moments in time I'd long forgotten about. Friends at school that are no longer with us because of their sexuality. Why, what a terrible tragedy. Where was love and tolerance, where was kindness and humanity.
But it also made me joyous and hopeful for a future where love is love can be true for everyone ❤️ Hardcastle has delivered a first person, own voices story that will endure.
I was torn between devouring and savouring every single word of this book. Held in both joy and sadness, simultaneously. I know I will come back to these words many times in my life. Thankyou Dylin <3
This book passed me by. Although I felt this book was easy to read, I found it difficult to connect to. There were some impactful passages and the writing style is undeniably excellent. I was left unsatisfied by the ending and I wanted a few more chapters. I was not the target audience for this book and that is okay. I read this book at a busy time of life and I felt like this is probably the cause for my lack of intrigue. I was so happy to read this as a part of Coastal Chapters book club pick for July to hear everyone’s opinions and the impact that this book left on them.
Somehow I managed to almost reach the end of this book thinking that the parallel stories were 'sliding doors' versions of the same life. How did I arrive at that? Not sure. Would the book have read differently for me? Perhaps not. My bookclub friend had described the book as - what I heard as - about two Lyns; seemed reasonable. Lyn would have been a period appropriate name. I approached the book with apprehension when I realised I had read an earlier book of the author, a memoir when they were writing as Sophie Hardcastle. It had been passed on to me by my daughter who, like the writer, has bipolar disorder type. I remember reading the memoir being difficult, given our experience with our daughter and with other family members and friends with mental health problems. Reading this book I also found difficult as the inner turmoil of gender and sexuality has also played out for family members and friends. I feel a sorrow for the authors life story, although it seems they are OK and writing successfully. The story of HIV/AIDS is well presented, although I found Sarah Winman's 'The Tinman' more moving. The suffering and death was appalling in those early days. I remember our trepidation as young doctors and healthcare professionals as the epidemic unfolded. I remember my husband's work with patients and in research, and how that has transformed over 40 years. The acknowledgement of Fiona Kelly McGregor also troubled me. She wrote 'Au Pair', shortlisted in 1992 for The Australian/Vogel Literary Award (for an unpublished manuscript). She is the daughter of friends of my late parents-in-law. That book reminded me of my sister's time as an au pair in France, something she did in defiance of my parents. McGregor also spent a lot of time defying her parents, and waited until they were both dead to write 'Indelible Ink', which distressed my mother-in-law through its portrayal of a character inspired by McGregor's mother. The Welsh connection was interesting. I wonder what the inspiration was? I have Welsh ancestry and my brother-in-law lives with his Welsh wife currently in Cardiff. When someone writes poetry for a novel is it poetry on its own? I don't know. All in all I couldn't enjoy this book as I would like. I wish the author well.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I’m still struggling to find the words to express how powerful and profound this book is and how much it wholeheartedly affected me. Not only is ‘A Language of Limbs’ a work of literary genius, as Hardcastle writes with a brilliant lyrical grace, but it’s deeply moving and impactful.
We follow the lives of two queer women, one openly gay and the other closeted, in Australia in the 70s and 80s. They lead vastly different lives yet still share many of the same feelings and experiences. Though they don’t know each other their lives overlap and intersect as they navigate love, sexuality, joy, grief and heartbreak.
I’m not much of a crier but this devastatingly beautiful book made me an emotional wreck of a human, to the point my throat was sore, my face was red and tears were streaming down my face and running into my hair. However, despite the sadness that infiltrated the story at times, what I really loved is that hope and joy permeated the book. No matter how many times the queer community was beaten down nothing could suppress their pride and zest for life. This felt like an extremely accurate portrayal of queerness in the 70s/80s that still at times rings true today. It was bold and brash yet tender and compassionate.
This may just be my favourite book of 2024 so far. The writing is exquisite, the storytelling is compelling, the themes are thought-provoking and the overall execution poignant and masterful. I believe this comes out on the 25th of June, so don’t walk but run to get yourself a copy.
TW: homophobia, domestic abuse, violence, sickness, death
I am impressed by this book. I found it a little difficult to keep track of which “limb” I was reading, especially when phrases were repeated in both limbs, yet, somehow, inexplicably, I found that it added to the overall story—it was a subtle way of building the picture of soulmates. I’m unaccustomed to the stylistic choices made, and I’m still unsure about some of them. It’s purely a personal preference, but I like quotation marks to indicate speech! There were a few times when I had to reread to determine if I was reading speech or thoughts. I learned in reading this that I really like to have a detailed description of main characters—it helps me build a connection with them if I can visualise them. But I didn’t get that with the two limbs—many of the other characters were given visual descriptions. Add in that I don’t identify as LGBTIQA+ and I didn’t really have a way to connect with the characters that felt genuine to me. Yet in saying that, the way the experiences of the limbs are written—goshdarn, that was powerful. I’m not a poetry person (I’m with Marg!) so some of rhetorical metaphors and such were a little lost on me, but there was also a way—I can’t quite put my finger on it—in which Hardcastle is able to express emotion so vividly and beautifully that it kept me reading to the end. Certainly, I can see why people are having such visceral responses to the novel. This book is outside my usual reading, but I am glad I read it. The story is powerful, enlightening, heartbreaking and inspiring.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
There’s nothing more satisfying nor rewarding than closing a book that is so beautifully written the same afternoon you opened it. Dylin Harcastle’s story is one of the most gut wrenchingly beautiful pieces of work I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading.
Their story gorgeously captures queer relationships not only with romantic lovers but through friendship, and it’s so comforting to delve into these bonds and feel aaaalllllll the love in this novel. Grief, loss, friendship, trauma, and the invisible string of fate that brings soulmates together, does not even begin to unpack the depths Dylin dives into.
I think one of my favourite themes Dylin reminds us of is that home isn’t always just the place where you come from, but it’s with those you truly love.
The way they have constructed this art is simply stunning and now I’ll forever be grabbing books off the shelf when I see DYLIN HARDCASTLE plastered on the cover. I laughed (a lot), I cried (a LOT), I FELT (a lot), and like Dylin so beautifully writes “…I have no word for this feeling…”, I simply couldn’t put my love for this book into words.
i will need to reread and relive this book at least another five times before it truly seeps in and i feel it. i want to study it and talk about it and listen to the author and hear the stories that inspired it. i am ill and sad but connected and joyful. never the same.
‘When I look at her, I feel like we’ve been winded, perhaps, by the same punches’ ‘We know all too well the sickening glee these pigs feel when they steal our matriarchs’ ‘Years from now, I’ll remember the sounds of bones breaking’ ‘We survive, because what else is there?’ ‘But a body [in a closet] will erode’ ‘All these lovers who just want to be held are made dead by the very thing that makes them feel alive’ ‘How our blood was an opening for this. How our bodies made this possible.’
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
I absolutely loved this book and am still thinking about and urging others to read it, beyond my finishing. This feels like such an important book, in its representation of the lgbtq community, and some significant events, and it's expiration of identity: whether it gets expressed or repressed, and what the impact is. It is done in such a sensitive, nuanced and authentic way too. The writer's ability to incorporate poetry and prose as well as depiction of visual art is also so fantastic. Hardcastle is also able to emote and evoke such stunning journeys of emotion. Strongly recommend this and will keep on recommending it!
What a breathtaking and heartbreaking journey. A Language of Limbs is beautifully woven together, in glimpses of life's moments between two young queer girls, and the way they choose to live their lives. There is joy and sorrow, happiness, love and devastating heartbreak, as these two limbs endure life and all it throws their way, as they whisper around each other's worlds, leaving you wondering if they will ever collide. Poetically told and just so beautifully written. I loved the poetry scattered throughout, the friends and family found in times of need.
I can not recommend this enough. It's such a moving story.
I read this off the back of reading ‘A Little Life’ by Hanya Yanagihara so a story of queer joy was desperately needed after enduring 700 pages of tragedy (I loved the book anyway, but that’s for another review). Obviously there is tragedy in this book, but it’s refreshing to read a story that is just as much about the beauty of becoming oneself as well as the hardship. In all honesty, I originally bought the book because I liked the cover, but it’s beautifully poetic and kept me hooked throughout.
Book of the decade for me .. this was such an incredible read. I knew nothing of this book or this author, it was sent to me via a book club. Turns is one of the best books I have ever read. It’s Poetic, mesmerising, taking me back to times, and places, feelings and friends. It’s a book of hope, spiced with melancholy and loss. Of being forging paths and finding peace. Of timing and change, of progress, the unjust and choices I just…. loved this