3.5 stars

I feel like Moss is a bit like an insider secret, her name isn't as well known as some others, but if you know her work, you know you're getting something good every time.
Obviously this was no exception.
I was fully pulled in by the different parts of the story, and enjoyed it.
I'm definitely going to be spreading the word about this, and her other books.

This magnificent book takes readers back and forth in time between rural Italy in the 1960s and rural Ireland in the present day as we read about Edith at different points in her life. Edith is a bookish person who grew up on a farm in England and is excited to have earned a place at Oxford University. Her father and grandmother, with whom she lives on the farm, are supportive even as some of the locals consider her a bit uppity. Her mother comes and goes (for understandable reasons) and is against her going to Oxford without taking a year off first to travel first to Italy, then to France, arguing that this would not only improve her language skills, but also give her a wider experience. She makes arrangements for Edith to stay with some friends in each country. Edith goes along with this plan, which gets derailed when she is sent to a villa to be with her older sister, who is unmarried and pregnant. The sisters are quite different--Edith is into words and books while her sister, Lydia, thinks and responds to things in dance. When the story moves to rural Ireland, we're with the 70-something Edith as she goes about the life she's built there, having moved to Dublin as a married woman and going rural at a later point in her life. The chapters of the book alternate between these two settings and to some extent, two Ediths. It's not that she's completely different, but as with all of us (hopefully) with age comes wisdom, often hard-earned, and we inhabit ourselves differently at different times of our lives. This is illustrated beautifully in this book, both in the characterization of Edith at these points in her life, but also in the structure of the book.

For instance, in the Italian sections, Edith is narrating and uses 'I' a lot. It's clear that she is explaining both the events that occurred and what she felt about them. In the Ireland sections, there's an omniscient narrator telling readers what Edith did, said, and thought about. It was an interesting contrast for me as I read. I felt almost like Edith was observing herself and sharing her observations. It's particularly interesting because of her status as a blow-in to rural Ireland. As she acknowledges, she will never completely fit in, will never truly belong--her interactions are almost all performative in some way. The latter is true for everyone to some degree, but as a blow-in to rural Ireland myself, and having been here for over a decade now, I've had time to see how much more it's the case now for me. I can also say that Sarah Moss captured the dynamics of a village in rural Ireland brilliantly, in my opinion. She was spot-on in her descriptions of the kinds of interactions that occur.

In addition to this being a gripping story, I could relate to so much in the book. Themes of belonging or not, who gets to be part of a community, what it means to be a family, what it means to be an immigrant, gender expectations, generational trauma, finding solace and joy in books, and so much more are woven together throughout this excellent book. I highly recommend it. 5 stars

Ripeness by Sarah Moss was a very satisfying read and I enjoyed both the different timelines in which the story is set and found it compelling and well written. Highly recommend.

What a joyous read. The life and times of Edith were amazing, sad at times and very adventurous.

I loved how this was written in two timelines and they merged together giving the reader a richly descriptive and informative look in at Edith's life.

This book is just sublime and I loved it

Had me hooked from the first page, beautiful prose and a captivating main character. I loved the parallels between young and older Edith’s life and how her life experience changed her world view.

Seventy year old Edith is happily settled in her rural Ireland cottage. Once the family holiday home, the house became entirely hers as part of the very amicable divorce settlement agreed with ex husband Mike. Now in a casual relationship (friends with benefits!) with potter Gunther, Edith is enjoying life being a woman without ties, apart from son Pat who lives in far-off London, free to come and go as she pleases. With sea swimming, yoga, Gunther, the coffee shop and her local friends, Edith has all she can ask for, but she still feels like an outsider, never quite accepted by the community even though she has been a resident for years.

Running alongside this narrative, we have seventeen year old Edith’s story. It’s the 1960’s and clever Edith has just been awarded a place at Oxford University, a whole year ahead of her contemporaries due to her advanced learning. Having been raised on the family farm in Derbyshire, with farmer dad and homely gran, Edith has not had much experience of life outside the area. Unlike her mother Rachel, ‘Maman’, a nomadic, wanderlust of a woman. Rarely at home, Maman seeks to find herself and her roots elsewhere, and is far from the usual mother towards her children. Deeming that Edith is too young at present to have the wherewithal to cope at Oxford, Maman decides that Edith must spend some time abroad, to broaden her horizons and arrangements are made for her to travel. However, this all comes to nothing when Maman instructs Edith to go to Italy to be a companion to her older sister, ballet dancer Lydia, who finds herself in something of a predicament.

For me this was definitely a book of two halves. The chapters about young Edith were totally immersive and I loved them. Older Edith chapters not so much so, though I fully appreciate the intention of contrast between the ages, the circumstances and how lives and opinions change and develop. A coming of age novel led by a mature perspective was thought provoking and intriguing.

Though I was unfamiliar with the writing style of this author, once I was in the flow of the book I really enjoyed it.

Not a light read, the book needs dedication from the reader to appreciate its nuances, though I have no doubt it will become immensely popular.

Thank you NetGalley and Pan Macmillan.

Sarah Moss is a go -to author for me and I've enjoyed all her books. "Ripeness" is no exception. Set across two timelines, 1960's Italy and present day Ireland, it explores themes of connection, integration and identity. Edith is the main protagonist, a sea-swimming divorcee in her 70's and now living in rural South West Ireland, where she forever feels like an outsider in a country all about "blood and soil". There are flashbacks to her childhood where she spent some weeks as a teenager in an Italian villa on the shores of Lake Como. Edith had been sent there by her enigmatic French mother, 'Maman', to support her older sister Lydia - a ballerina in a London troupe - who is soon to give birth. The story is recounted by Edith, as we discover later, to Lydia's son, who was adopted after birth by an American family.

The author cleverly explores themes of integration, identity and belonging. "Isn't it what most people want to feel that they belong somewhere"? She compares Edith's experience of living in Ireland as an English woman for many years with that of the Ukrainian and International refugees. She also provides a very accurate (and non-patronising ) social commentary on modern Ireland, such as the mother and baby homes, emigration, housing and refugees. Moss has been living in Ireland herself for the past few years and its obvious that she really "gets" our country and our ways, One final point to note is the quality of the writing. It is richly evocative, especially the chapters set in Italy which bring to life the beautiful Lombardy countryside, the ripe fruit falling from the trees and the faded glory of the villa. Overall this was a very satisfying read, placing Sarah Moss firmly in the league of the best authors of the 21st century.

With many thanks to @netgalley, @picador and @panmacmillan for the advance copy of this book in return for my honest opinion.

Sarah Moss writes so beautifully her story lines the characters.This was an emotional read a very special book.I will be recommending this gem of a story.#NetGalley #panmacmillan

This was a fantastic read. Beautiful yet sparingly written. Moss manages to convey the most exquisite emotions. The characters were interestingly created and I loved the way the story was told in two time lines. The story was intensely thought provoking and is highly recommended.

Ripeness is told from the perspective of the 70-year-old Edith, brought up in England’s Midlands but here living a comfortable life in rural Ireland, somewhere around the present day. It consists of two strands: one focuses on her pleasant but mundane life in the here and now, her casual relationship (post-divorce) with Gunter, and her friendship with Maebh, who receives a message from a man in America claiming to be her half-brother. The second intertwining strand takes the form of a missive from Edith to her nephew, to be open upon her death, which describes the circumstances leading up to his birth in 1960s Italy to her young ballet-dancer sister Lydia. There are subtle plot details which slowly reveal themselves over the course of both parts of the narrative, which while not earth-shatteringly shocking are still integral to the reading experience, so I’ll keep my summary brief here.

The first thing to note here is the quality of the writing. It’s beautifully economical, making for a really pleasurable reading experience. The 1960s section, set in an artist’s residence on the shores of Lake Como, is particularly evocative, in spite of the at times troubling subject matter it’s never a chore to read, with rich but never overwrought descriptions of overripe fruit, chilly dips in the pool and marble bathrooms. The present day section is (perhaps purposefully) a little more flat and grey by comparison, with the action switching a little more to Edith’s inner world rather than dwelling on her surroundings.

It’s a book of intertwining themes, parallels and contrasts. Throughout, themes of (im)migration and the general movement of people (for good or ill) loom large. In the postwar Italian section, its young characters (the sisters and Lydia’s ballet friends) travel freely around Europe, without consequence and largely without much engagement with the local population, who appear largely as household servants, with the English characters (save Edith) engaging with them only as domestic servants and shopkeepers, and barely considering trying to speak the language. Through Edith’s narrative, though, we learn of her Jewish family heritage and explore the contrasts of this carefree/careless movement with the ‘suitcases always packed, ready for escape’ mentality of her mother and other ancestors.

In the present day, Edith has settled in Ireland, and despite occasional moments of awkwardness and moderate cultural difference, she is largely accepted as a ‘good immigrant’ and forms part of the local community. The same applies to the Ukrainian immigrants arriving in the wake of the Russian invasion, but strangely not to ‘other’ immigrants, who we encounter being bussed down from Dublin to take refuge in a local hotel. Edith’s reaction to her friend Maebh’s involvement in a protest against these other immigrants (presumably from non-European countries and of non-white extraction) is one of the more interesting pivot points of the book, with perhaps not quite the expected result.

Elsewhere, there are nods to other big contemporary themes. Modern day Edith is attempting to do her best in the face of the climate catastrophe, but fretting over whether she should take flights to join her friends on a holiday. We’re also not long after the Covid lockdowns, and Edith reflects on (elderly, vulnerable) friends of hers who appear to have withdrawn from the world during that period and never returned. The background to Lydia’s pregnancy is one which will continue to (sadly) resonate for many, even if her reaction to it may be shocking to some who have never found themselves in a similar situation.

Most interesting, I think, though, are the subtleties of the narrative around immigration / racism that runs through the whole thing. Edith seems to have found, through her travels, engagement with history, and life experience, a likeable kind of tolerance but she also demonstrates a kind of resignation to the forces of history, which at present seem to be swinging in the direction of intolerance. At her lifestage, Edith clearly lacks the energy to fight her friends over their racist views, even as they clearly wound her on a personal level. (While she was no more feisty as a 17-year-old in Italy, she displayed tendencies that suggested she might have grown more of a backbone in later life).

She’s perhaps representative of a kind of tragically fading idealism, a sort of European / liberal postwar consensus around freedom of movement and not slipping back into the seemingly obvious use of genetics to determine identity. The arrival of Maebh’s ‘brother’, who found her on some kind of 23&Me DNA test site, is to Edith both something she can facilitate and celebrate as a friend, but also something in a sense deeply concerning for her as someone of Jewish heritage. Her missive to her absent nephew, purposefully hidden away until after her death, is a semi-cloaked warning of the dangers of delving too deeply into ones ‘identity’, even as it tentatively pushes him towards doing so.

In some senses, it’s a slightly unsatisfying conclusion to what is a richly engaging and thought-provoking book. I think through reading, you come to expect a bit more of Edith in terms of kicking back against some of the bad stuff she encounters around her in the world, but then perhaps she’s there as a bit of a mirror to the likely liberal-consensus readership of this book. Her heart is in the right place, but ultimately where she is now - with Gunter, with her friendship and comfortable life - is worth more to her than the battles she could be fighting. Do we think less of her, or ourselves, as a result? That’s the interesting and very much open question that I found particularly resonant here.

A lush and immersive read, which hides deep and disturbing questions behind an easy-going façade. (9/10)

Ripeness by Sarah Moss is a beautifully layered exploration of family dynamics, identity, migration, and belonging. The book is set against two distinct timelines, one in the 1960s and the other in the present day, weaving together the past and present with deep emotional resonance.

The first timeline follows Edith, a young woman who, just out of school, is sent by her mother to rural Italy. Edith is tasked with helping her older sister, Lydia, a ballet dancer, through the final stages of her pregnancy. Her mother gives her strict instructions: to assist Lydia with the birth, make an important phone call, and seal the fate of both mother and child. The complexity of Edith’s role in this arrangement adds layers to her character, revealing her internal conflict as she navigates her responsibilities.

Decades later, Edith is happily divorced and content in Ireland, living a peaceful life. The second timeline introduces her best friend, Maebh, who receives a call from an American man claiming to be her half-brother. Maebh, uncertain about the truth of his claim, turns to Edith for support in deciding whether or not to meet him. This modern-day narrative brings Edith's past into sharper focus, particularly her emotional growth and the ways in which the past still shapes the present.

The writing style in Ripeness is distinctive and bold. Moss employs a stream-of-consciousness technique that eschews the use of inverted commas for dialogue, giving the narrative a fluid, almost dreamlike quality. At times, this approach can disrupt the reading flow, requiring the reader to pause and reread certain sentences to fully grasp their meaning. However, this unique style also contributes to the book’s thematic richness, inviting readers to interpret each sentence with care and to reflect on the complexities of the characters' thoughts and emotions.

The book's exploration of familial love is profound, delving into the connections we form with those closest to us, even when those bonds are complicated by the weight of decisions made long ago. It also addresses the concept of belonging, both in terms of family and the larger communities we inhabit. The themes of migration and new beginnings resonate deeply, as Edith’s journey in Italy contrasts with Maebh’s search for family in the present.

Ripeness is a book that demands patience and careful attention, but it rewards readers with its emotional depth and nuanced portrayal of family, identity, and the passage of time. While the writing style may not be to everyone’s taste, those willing to engage with its rhythms will find a story that lingers long after the final page. Highly recommended for readers who appreciate thought-provoking, character-driven narratives.

Read more at The Secret Book Review.

I very much enjoyed this book as well as admiring it. It is both a coming of age novel as well as dealing with old age and new relationships in old age.

In the 60s Edith, aged 17, goes to stay with her pregnant sister (a ballet dancer) in Italy. Moss never explains or elaborates but we see Edith grow in understanding of adult relationships, childbirth and the joys or otherwise of caring for a small child, as well as the joys and sacrifices of professional ballet. The narrative evokes the heat and smells of Italy beautifully.

Aged 70 she is living in Ireland and in a new relationship. Once again her situation is conveyed through her thoughts and musings - how is it being the perpetual English outsider, no matter how long you have lived in Ireland, how is it having a younger lover?

Sarah Moss is a wonderful writer and I would definitely recommend this book. Many thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for a review copy.

I found Ripeness increasingly compelling as I became more familiar with the writing style.

Ripeness has a dual timeliness: in the first the protagonist is in modern day, and recounts the story of a close friend meeting her newly discovered half-brother and in the other, Edith tells of time in Italy, at the age of seventeen, supporting her pregnant ballet dancing sister.

Moss uses an original writing style,; there are no inverted commas to indicate speech and at times it felt like a stream of consciousness that created an uncomfortable rhythm, interrupting the reading flow. I found I had to reread sentences to appreciate her clever sentence structure but also to ensure I am comprehending the meaning in its many layers.

There is no doubt: Ripeness is brilliantly written but only 4 stars as I found it a little difficult to get into the flow. That said, I blasted through the second half.

It is not necessarily a book I would recommend widely, as it is not an easy read and I would definitely say it is more literary but I do expect to see it on a few shortlists.

Thank you to NetGalley for providing me with an ARC.

To start at the beginning, what a gorgeous cover. And what a wonderful book.

I was completely immersed in the narratives of both Edith at 17 and Edith at 70. Her relationships with everybody in the book are so beautifully described: her restless mother who lost her family to the concentration camps, her farmer father, her elder ballerina sister whose role is so central to the whole story, her lover Gunter, to name but a few.

The prose is precise, no wasted words, and descriptions are impeccable, and there are thousands of little details that I could completely relate to,

This is a timely novel for me as I research my family tree, finding one or two disturbing surprises, and as I wait for my DNA results. The big question in this novel is how much do we need to know about our ancestors, should we leave the past alone? I'm soon to find out, and in the meantime, thank you to the author for making me think harder about this subject.

There are some heart-wrenching scenes, happy moments, funny observations, and a completely satisfactory ending.

What a delicious, unsettling ,thought-provoking book this is! It’s almost a duel-timeline story as Edith, in her 70-year-old present life, writes a letter to her lost but unforgotten nephew about the Italian summer when she was 17 and witnessed his birth and hurried adoption. There are so many lovely descriptions and touching moments, both in the past and the present. Sarah Moss has a deftness of touch and a beautiful way with words - Edith’s everyday musings on life, friendship, sex and death become almost poetic but also instantly recognisable. I rushed to read to the end of this book but savoured every page as well. Bravo Sarah Moss!

I’m writing this review on Christmas Eve, which I think gives a good indication of how much I savoured this book and how much I’m now bursting to tell people about it!
The title has so many layers: luscious Italian fruit ready to be picked, sexual relationships among older adults (still not commonly portrayed in novels, still!), emotional maturity, coming-of-age, the peak of talent (in this case, as a professional ballerina) and the time warp that is the third trimester in pregnancy. I’ve read most of Sarah Moss’s fiction and non-fiction, and I keep returning because of the intellectual heft (worn lightly) of her work and the gorgeous prose. Highly, highly recommended!

As I started to read this novel, it felt very unfamiliar Sarah Moss territory. We are in rural Ireland, with our female protagonist, Edith, now in her 70s and her lover, Gunter. It is a consumptive opening.

The story then rotates between her current life and her past life. The reader sees Edith's building blocks. Her nomadic French Jewish mother whose family were murdered in Belsen, her father, a Derbyshire farmer and her sister, a ballet dancer. With Moss' creative style the pieces are put in place gradually and her familiar tropes of feminism, the great outdoors, belonging and motherhood become evident. At some point I found "Night Waking" which I read many years ago, resonating.

I found the story, the contemporary attitudes and the rawness totally compelling. Moss brings her mastery of perspective to making a familiar story seem new. I thought it was fabulous.

With thanks to #NetGalley #PanMacmillan #Picador for offering me the opportunity to read and review