I sat in the easy chair. “Aftab,” I said, “would you like to join me for a cup of tea?” My anxiety did not respond. I waited a while, picturing its face. It had an egg-shaped head and small, dark eyes on the sides rather than at the front. A long, slim nose and a narrow mouth beneath. Its skin was pale and smooth, except for a wrinkled frown on its brow and more wrinkles around both eyes that made it appear older than it should. Perfectly bald, it had no facial hair or eyebrows either. “Aftab,” I repeated. Still, my anxiety did not come out to meet me.
What a perfectly moody read: Two Lumps of Sugar for Mr Anxiety follows a fifty-year-old British man, Jed, in the aftermath of his lonely old mother’s death — as he realises that he could have treated his Mum better; that he could have treated his wife and children better over the years, too — and as he grows to despise his job, Jed decides to take a three month contract in India; for the extravagant salary and the break from his incessant daily grind. But while Jed might think he can run away from his problems, some of those problems insist on being acknowledged; even if they need to take physical form and watch Jed while he sleeps, and follow along with him to the office, and join him in endless cups of tea. As a narrative of one man’s slow slide into anxiety and despair, author Eli Wilde has written an affecting account of a mind turning back on itself, but this is also an entertaining book filled with dark humour and witty characters. Perfectly moody and touching and sharp; three and a half stars rounded down, but definitely recommended. (Note: I read an ARC through NetGalley and passages quoted may not be in their final forms.)
I continued to read, despite the Thing. No, not despite the Thing. I had a word for the Thing now. Anxiety. Naming my tormentor didn’t make things any easier. Maybe that would change if I found out more about the condition.
In the Acknowledgements at the end, Wilde notes that he “found both Claire Weekes and Barry McDonagh immensely helpful in my battle against anxiety when I was working in India,” and that explains not only why Jed employs tips from these real-life experts as he deals with his own mounting anxiety, but also explains why Jed’s experience — with mental health and with working in India — has the definite ring of truth. Everything from noting that the pale, egg-headed “Mr Anxiety” (AKA “Aftab”) looks like he could have been drawn by Russian illustrator Anton Semenov (Semenov created “Other People’s Secrets”, used as the cover art for this novel) and that Aftab speaks in the voice of Stephen Fry, to the descriptions of Indian beaches and traffic and street beggars (who might be grifters or might be lepers; more info on leprosy is provided at the end), all root this fantastic-sounding tale in the real world; one with real pain. As for the title, by way of Barry McDonagh’s philosophy of Dare: if anxiety is hiding in the shadows and taking jabs at your well-being, invite it to show itself — join you for a cup of tea, even — and invite it to do its worst; you never know what it might be trying to tell you:
I held onto him tightly, as his body wracked with the force of his sobs. After a moment, I wept too. If I had looked deep into myself, I would have known why, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to face the thing I had kept hidden since the first day I came to India.
Much of this really worked for me — the details, the tone, the characters — but something just missed in the plot for me (maybe it felt too true: like, a person can move to India for a three month contract and have interesting interactions with coworkers from around the world in real life, but in a novel, there needs to be a narrative reason for all of this. And I will, as ever, acknowledge that I have a particular narrative taste that isn't universal; this will certainly be a five star read to others.)
