Fractured identity: debut novel explores the abyss of mental collapse
Albertine Clarke’s The Body Builders delivers a startling and unsettling portrait of a young woman teetering on the brink of psychosis, offering a stark, unsettling meditation on self-perception and the fragile nature of reality.
A descent into dissociation
Twenty-six-year-old Ada, adrift in London and haunted by a disembodied voice, meticulously constructs a life of quiet desperation – swimming in her apartment’s pool, meticulously avoiding connection. Clarke masterfully establishes Ada’s fractured state from the outset, plunging the reader into a world where familiar landmarks morph into terrifying, hallucinatory landscapes. The early chapters, detailing Ada’s childhood anxieties and her parents' volatile relationship – her father’s obsession with the gym and her mother’s subsequent rejection – lay the groundwork for the novel’s core themes: the performative nature of identity and the often-painful process of self-creation.
The narrative quickly spirals into a disturbing exploration of Ada’s deteriorating mental state. Recurring auditory hallucinations, vividly rendered – a radio voice whispering about familial discord – bleed into her waking hours, blurring the lines between internal experience and external reality. Clarke doesn’t shy away from the unsettling imagery, particularly the unsettling “mine shaft” tunnel, presenting a visceral and deeply unnerving depiction of Ada’s psychological unraveling.
A glimmer of connection – and its rupture
Her encounter with Atticus, an American writer with a deliberately jarring accent, provides a brief, tentative respite. Despite his perceived intrusion – “She was not used to being looked at” – they forge a connection, only to have it brutally severed by his return to California. This rupture amplifies Ada’s sense of isolation and fuels her increasingly paranoid beliefs, culminating in the chilling conviction that Atticus holds her memories.
Beyond the surface: body horror and literary echoes
The Body Builders transcends simple “sad girl lit,” drawing on the unsettling atmosphere of Polanski’s Repulsion and the fragmented logic of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Clarke’s prose is sharp and precise, unflinchingly confronting Ada’s self-destructive tendencies. The disastrous Naxos holiday with her estranged mother – culminating in a shocking act of self-mutilation – serves as a devastating crescendo, highlighting Ada’s complete abandonment of self-awareness. There’s a subtle resonance with Deborah Levy’s Hot Milk, but Clarke’s work possesses a unique, claustrophobic intensity.
A fragmented self
Ultimately, Ada’s journey is less about finding a stable identity and more about confronting the inherent instability of the self. Her encounters with fabricated figures like Darrius – a non-existent Polish man who confesses to being unreal – underscore the performative nature of her reality. The novel’s concluding scenes, depicting a tentative reconciliation with her father and a difficult choice between him and the increasingly 'real' Patrick, offer a glimmer of hope, but one that feels profoundly fragile. Clarke’s debut is a challenging, rewarding read – a testament to the power of unsettling prose and a deeply unsettling exploration of the human psyche.