Jayne Tuttle wears her heart on her sleeve: such a strange saying, but here, apt because everything she feels is written down, bare as bones, in this glorious immersion into the early years of parenthood. I read it with my hands up to my face, hiding from my own memories, as I gave myself over to the tremendous power of this story

Jayne and her partner have arrived back in Paris, the city where once she nearly died. This time she is pregnant and filled with hope. The plan is to visit, establish their art practices and then head back to Australia. Fate has other ideas, and she gives birth to her daughter in Paris – a bloody, momentous occasion. From there on, the couple and the baby are in a type of limbo, balancing act. Which of the two adults is responsible for which responsibilities? Anyone who has parented a young child understands this: time is now precious. How to be a writer, a money earner, and a parent in a city where none of your family lives? Friends help. Relationships from long ago help. Love for their child helps. Is it enough?

Can you be a feminist with a baby and aspirations? Do you really have any choices? What to do with exhaustion, frustration, beauty, rage, and despair?

The Sea in the Metro is Tuttle’s memoir of these early years, and it places you there alongside her. Her writing is vital, urgent, and heartbroken. It is both a portrait of resilience, a long-term relationship, parenting, and Paris. Read it and weep. 

By the by, Jayne Tuttle now lives in Queenscliff where she co-owns the bookshop down there. She has been an actor, a copy writer, an author, a student – and now a bookshop retailer. It makes sense. If I do say so myself, tongue in cheek, all the most interesting people in the world are, in the end, drawn to bookshops.