Book Review: Court Ludwick's These Strange Bodies
What does it mean to truly know oneself? To become familiar with the complexities and contours of being human? To understand the rawness and intricacies of familial relationships and how they shape not only our emotional selves but also our physicality? These questions lingered in my mind as I read Court Ludwick’s These Strange Bodies, an extraordinary collection of essays that dives into the profound messiness of identity, family, and the human body. It is one of the most fascinating works of creative nonfiction I have encountered, giving a memorable exploration of adolescence, adulthood, trauma, and healing.
Early on in the collection, the essay “Loose Tooth” sets the tone with startling vulnerability and sharp prose: “Now unfastened. But there’s a certain freedom in flushing part of your body down the toilet and pretending your mother is mad, you mean crazy, when she asks where your front tooth has up and gone. In secret, you touch the hole it left. That emptiness tastes good, like metal and memory.” Here, Ludwick introduces themes of loss, bodily transformation, and the complex dance between secrecy and exposure. It is a coming-of-age narrative, but one that refuses to recoil from the messier aspects of growing up—the vulnerability, the violence, and the strange beauty that comes from both.
Another standout essay, “Room 1152,” delves into the narrator’s relationship with her mother, exploring the tensions and tenderness that define their bond. Ludwick’s writing artfully balances intimacy and distance, revealing how these familial relationships intersect with her experiences of sexuality, identity, and transition from one life stage to the next. The prose is both sensual and clever, carrying readers through moments of clarity and confusion, growth and stagnation. Lines like “Isn’t it sorta beautiful how the skin is the largest organ and also the only one that’s ever felt?” showcase Ludwick’s ability to clarify complex emotions into simple yet evocative language.
The voice throughout These Strange Bodies is striking in its range and emotional depth. Ludwick writes with a rawness that resonates deeply, particularly for readers navigating the complexities of womanhood, adulthood, or the unfamiliarity of a changing body. Beyond the physical, the essays also deal with mental illness and the scars it leaves behind, both personally and generationally. Ludwick’s delicate exploration of these topics heightens the collection into something profoundly moving.
While I found the essays captivating, I was occasionally struck by Ludwick’s unconventional use of punctuation and sentence structure. For instance, in lines like “Full bellied laughing because it’s cold all right but it’s also beautiful also dangerous also you never knew oceans felt this cold, felt like this,” the run-on quality made me pause. I wondered whether these stylistic choices were intentional, meant to reflect the narrator’s stream of consciousness, or perhaps the fragmented nature of memory and emotion itself. Regardless, the rhythm and cadence of Ludwick’s writing ultimately feel purposeful, adding another layer to her exploration of form and meaning.
These Strange Bodies is a stunning collection that will remain with readers long after the final page. It is a book for anyone who has ever questioned their own body, their relationships, or the stories they carry. Ludwick’s essays invite readers to accept the strange, the uncomfortable, and the beautifully human aspects of ourselves—and to seek freedom within them. I cannot recommend this collection highly enough.
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