Harare Review of Books

289 pages.

First published Aug. 15, 2023 (Pantheon)

Non-fiction essays/anthology.

I’ve come away from these essays feeling both strengthened and provoked. I may not always agree with Shapland—how would I, a Black, southern African, Gen X woman?—but even when I don’t, she manages to persuade me to see where she’s coming from, to provoke me to think about why I think the things I do; which, surely, is the mark of a great essayist. And that’s when I’m not startled by her clarity of expression when I do agree with her, when she puts into words some of my semi-formed glimmerings.

The self. Family. Queerness. Motherhood, womanhood, pregnancy. Capitalism. The poisoning of our biosphere; nuclear testing. Native land rights, and settler colonialism. Her own complicity in this, in her move to New Mexico, in her participation in “woo” that sometimes draws on Native or Indigenous knowledge while excluding Native and Indigenous people. Being a daughter; and, briefly, the grief of losing her mother. Love. Multispecies families. Race. Connection. The pandemic. Consumerism. Witches. In [five] essays, Shapland uses her mind as a precision blade, a laser cutter to explore all of these topics and more.

I took my time over it (and highlighted so many lines), but Thin Skin is compelling reading. I’m grateful for the choices Shapland made (described in the book) that led to her ability to carve out the time to think on all of these things. I am, and every reader of Thin Skin is, the richer for it.

Thank you to NetGalley and to Pantheon for this ARC.

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