My Year of Living Vulnerably (Rick Morton, Fourth Estate)

Anyone who enjoyed Rick Morton’s memoir One Hundred Years of Dirt will want to read My Year of Living Vulnerably. Under a disparate set of headings—The Self, Forgiveness, Animals, Touch, Beauty, Masculinity, Loneliness, Kindness, Dysfunction, Doubt, Next, Beginnings—Morton weaves together a wonderfully readable and wide-ranging exploration of the visible and invisible touchstones of our lives. He takes us on an enjoyable and enlightening metaphysical magic carpet ride powered by curiosity—about the personal (a sexual assault, his diagnosis of complex PTSD, a family history of colonial violence and racism, a wonderful, chook-loving mum) and about the world. Morton shares a slap-up meal with a homeless man in New York, digs into consciousness and the evolution of language, describes the astonishing power of music’s appoggiatura, and reveals the horror of Japanese elder loneliness and the soothing qualities of therapeutic robot seals. Despite, or perhaps because of, Morton’s self-obsession and desperate need for bear hugs, this is nourishing reading for our lonely, frightening and fraught times. Part self-help book, part treatise on the importance of love, kindness and forgiveness, by the end we are cheering on our very own Fat Jesus, for whom personal happiness might finally be just within reach. Morton is a national treasure and we need more like him.

Julia Taylor worked in trade publishing for many years.

Category: Reviews