New Animal, Ella Baxter [best books to read for success .txt] 📗

PRAISE FOR

NEW ANIMAL

‘New Animal is a wild, moving and original debut—and like the best bits of sex and funerals, it’s very, very funny.’

ROBERT LUKINS, author of The Everlasting Sunday

‘If Six Feet Under was transplanted into small-town Australia and centred on a mordantly hilarious mortuary cosmetician in the throes of her Saturn return, it might look something like New Animal. Ella Baxter’s prose is clear, confident, and delectably off-kilter, and Amelia is one of the most memorable heroines I’ve encountered in a long time. Sex, death, humour, and heart—this novel has it all.’

LAURA ELIZABETH WOOLLETT, author of Beautiful Revolutionary

‘So complex is Amelia’s character and narration that as I read New Animal, I found myself squirming with discomfort, sniggering at the earthy and often incongruous humour, and tearing up—often at the same time. New Animal is an unputdownable read, which will linger with you long after you’ve torn through the pages.’

ERIN HORTLE, author of The Octopus and I

‘Equal parts profound and profane. Somehow both darkly hilarious and just plain dark. Baxter gives you everything you want in a debut—fresh ideas, fresh language, and fresh blood. She has officially exploded into the literary scene. I shrieked with laughter and horror. New Animal is a book for anyone who’s struggled with the interminable disconnect between brain and body. I tore through this and I guarantee you will too.’

BRI LEE, author of Eggshell Skull

‘A novel about having so much grief you want to break your body to match your heart. New Animal is funny, raw, gutsy and stealthily sweet. I sobbed my way through the last few pages and was left feeling bruised, but also wiser, braver and more generous.’

EMILY MAGUIRE, author of An Isolated Incident

Ella Baxter is a writer and artist living in Melbourne.

First published in 2021

Copyright © Ella Baxter 2021

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

Allen & Unwin

83 Alexander Street

Crows Nest NSW 2065

Australia

Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

Email: info@allenandunwin.com

Web: www.allenandunwin.com

ISBN 978 1 76087 779 8

eISBN 978 1 76106 118 9

Internal design by Simon Paterson, Bookhouse

Set by Bookhouse, Sydney

For Lumi

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CHAPTER ONE

There is a man with kind eyes and crooked teeth in my bed. He’s facing me and smiling, preparing to talk. I cough once, loudly, because talking is unnecessary at this point.

We both watched patiently as he prodded my vagina with his hangnailed finger, and we took turns sighing mid-thrust.

Afterwards, Adam squashes my memory foam pillow until it’s wedged beneath his armpit for support. He squints at my framed certificate hanging above the bookshelf. My stepdad Vincent paid for the framing in honour of all the technical skills I had to learn, because he likes to celebrate stamina and effort. My mother even made a cake.

‘Certificate IV in Embalming, awarded to Amelia Aurelia,’ Adam reads aloud.

‘I tend to focus more on the cosmetics aspect,’ I explain.

‘Right,’ he says, turning towards me. ‘Funeral make-up.’ He purses his lips, while continuing to crush my only good pillow.

I kick at the bed sheet until it’s down around our ankles. The cotton has absorbed the smell of sweat and salt. Some foot odour and a slight muskiness lingers. I toss the whole thing onto the floor and lie back on the bed, uncovered but still sticky in the muggy room. The February moon must be close to full because the clouds are low and brightly backlit. I can’t help but feel that if it were a bit darker, we wouldn’t be making so much accidental eye contact. He smothers a yawn, and I force my own mouth into a yawn shape so that we can yawn together and pass some time.

Adam picks up his wineglass from the bedside table and I watch him, wondering how I would do his make-up if he passed. Accentuate his ambiguous heritage maybe. Fill in his eyebrows and sweep a bit of bronzer along each temple. His hair would look lovely brushed back, too. Some of that high shine cream could really bring out the warm brunette tones. A burgundy shirt.

I glance quickly at the side of his face.

Forest green would also suit him.

As the pause stretches out, and he shows no sign of leaving, I wonder if he has assumed he’s sleeping the night.

I get up to use the bathroom; it’s important to urinate after sex, otherwise bacteria climbs up your urethra like a staircase. As I slide the ensuite door shut behind me, I can hear Adam change position in the bed less than a metre away. I can even hear him scratch an itch. I lean over to the sink and run the tap until the sound of water is louder than anything else, and my vagina can finally relax.

I take a moment to acknowledge my naked body. Longlimbed with the slightest hint of a tan. I turn to the side to look at my face in the mirror. The freckles smattered across my nose and cheeks are best seen in morning light, when they look rose gold. Under fluorescent lighting I just seem spotty. Kind of warm on the colour scale—reddish hair. Auburn usually, but fire when the setting sun hits it. Dark eyes and a long, aquiline nose. It’s hawkish. I have been told a few times by people not related to me that