The death of her cousin in 2016 was the catalyst for an existential crisis that had novelist Harvey (The Wilderness) continually reflecting on the concept of death and the inevitable dissolution of the physical presence. The thought of her relative in his coffin underground would stimulate rapid heart palpitations and uncontrollable panic, and Harvey began to suffer from insomnia as a result of her anxiety. The desire for sleep, and the denial of it, created feelings of anger, loneliness, despair, and fear. She tried multiple remedies to solve her issues, including medication and therapy, without success. Harvey argues the writing process saved her during this period, providing her with an escape from her thoughts of death and bringing some happiness to her life. VERDICT Recommended for those curious about the creative process and the devastating effects of sleep deprivation. [See Prepub Alert, 11/25/19.]--Gary Medina, El Camino Coll., Torrance, CA

Sleeplessness gets the Susan Sontag illness-as-metaphor treatment in this pensive, compact, lyrical inquiry into the author's nighttime demons. In her attempt to make sense of why she can't sleep, Betty Trask Award-winning novelist Harvey meditates, often poetically, on a wide range of topics. Her sleep issues began in the summer of 2016. A few months later, the author had self-diagnosed "possible chronic Post Brexit Insomnia" along with the "existence of persistent panic." She began suffering three or four nights per week of no sleep. She tried everything: sleeping aids, prescription drugs, visits to a CBT sleep clinic, acupuncture, "learning French, making mosaics, playing solitaire, doing jigsaws," watching episodes of Poldark and The Crown, and listening to "an audio edition of Remembrance of Things Past." Eventually, Harvey began to feel "increasingly feral, like a wild animal enduring a cage." She stopped writing and was teaching on zero hours of sleep, and her thoughts fragmented further, a process that she captures with vivid clarity, darkly tinged yet unblurred. The author thought about writing a story about a man who, while robbing a cash machine, loses his wedding ring. It unfurls in sections, floating along in the darkness like quiet waves. "Is the story going anywhere?" Harvey asks herself. Also, is insomnia caused by fear or anxiety? "Anxiety, my hypnotherapist says; you are safe in your bed yet your heart is racing as if a tiger is present. You must learn to see that there is no tiger," she writes. "But there is a tiger: sleep deprivation. Sleep deprivation isn't a perceived threat but a real one, like thirst or starvation." Finally, "one day when you're done with it, it will lose its footing and fall away, and you'll drop each night into sleep without knowing how you once found it impossible." Though the narrative is a highly personal interior monologue, others who have suffered insomnia will find abundant resonance. An exquisitely rendered voyage into the "shapelessness of a life without sleep, where days merge unbounded." Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Harvey's insomnia came on accompanied by waves of frustration and sadness. Shortly after she moved, she began to be awakened by the sounds of traffic, and not long after that her anger over the passage of Brexit left her feeling restless. Added to that was a wave of personal losses--the death of her cousin, who was found in his apartment after two days; the separation of her sister and her partner; the dementia diagnosis of her father's partner with dementia--all occurred as she stopped being able to fall, or stay, asleep. But as Harvey makes clear in this masterful and captivating memoir, insomnia is not easily defined by its causes, and it's certainly not easily defeated. At once intensely personal and universal, Harvey's ruminations on the agony of sleepless nights and the way exhaustion ravages every aspect of waking life. Despairing at the useless advice she's given and feeling powerless to solve her severe sleeping problems, Harvey nonetheless finds courage to fight on.