Ghosts- Dolly Alderton

 

I could have been anything, but I chose to be a bride.

I often find myself suspended between the desire to be a self-sufficient, independent woman, needing no external validation to feel worthy, and the equally compelling longing to experience romance. After all, since the dawn of time, from the first caveman who dared to love another, the essential pursuit has been love. But what does love truly entail? Is it the act of providing, of making someone feel as cherished and irreplaceable as that ancestral earring your mother keeps locked away in the furthest cupboard? Or is love an adventure, thrilling, at times perilous, yet ultimately a refuge? I still grapple with these questions: whether I genuinely seek love, or if I belong to the generation of women raised to meet their own needs, to hold their own hands, and to rise without assistance.

Don’t mistake me, I firmly believe that women in relationships can be equally, if not more, formidable than those who choose solitude. But how, and more importantly, when do you decide that love, in the traditional sense, is not for you—and perhaps a dog is?

Ghosts is the book you read before watching Materialists by Celine Song (this is a book and movie review, what an upgrade!). Nina Dean, a successful, thirty-something food writer, single for a year and cautiously re-entering the world of dating, finds herself confronting the very dilemmas I’ve described. Yet Alderton’s narrative doesn’t revolve solely around a romantic partner. Nina is also coming to terms with her father’s cognitive decline and navigating the stress of a deranged neighbour, all while yearning for meaningful connection.

Alderton compels readers to interrogate their own beliefs about love, especially the variety cultivated through apps like Hinge, often beginning with a rush of excitement, promising the adventure we all dream of experiencing at least once. What sets Ghosts apart from other explorations of companionship is its refusal to romanticize reality. It is unflinchingly honest, portraying love not as a fairytale, but as something far more nuanced and unpredictable. For if love is defined by the act of providing and making one’s partner feel singularly invaluable, what a tragic squandering of self-worth and untapped potential that becomes. Yet, as humans, we are inherently flawed, perpetually suspended in the dilemma of desiring one path over another. This internal conflict becomes the balance sheet of our lives, a unique kind of commerce, where the currency remains intangible, shaped by the myriad languages of love within us, and where the return often surpasses the emotional investment. Alderton underscores the reality that love frequently appears more accessible for men, their unwarranted confidence floated by a biological clock they hardly acknowledge, and a societal narrative that deems it entirely acceptable for a 48-year-old man to pursue a 27-year-old woman. 

What both Alderton and Celine Song masterfully convey is that love is fearless, a commodity in the grand economy of life, paradoxically both a luxury and an accessible necessity. It is at once wildly illogical and profoundly sensible. Though it may not always be reciprocated, the enduring hope that there exists someone for everyone keeps the flame alive. Their works found me at a moment when my mental faculties struggled to reconcile with the choices I had made, reaffirming the belief, if not universally accepted, then personally resonant, that while love may be the ultimate aspiration, it is not the sole purpose. After all, life is a business transaction, and love, at the very least, deserves a seat at the table.