As a big fan of Stibbe’s writing (and her previous autobiographical book, ‘Love, Nina’), I requested this without actually knowing what it was about. I don’t regret this at all!
In fact, it’s kind of tricky to pin down what this book is actually about. It’s Nina Stibbe’s diaries covering her move to London (with dog, Peggy, as indicated by the title) in the period of an impending divorce. Leaving her home in Cornwall, Stibbe takes a spare room in the home of author Deborah Moggach (‘Debby’) and spends a year navigating a new life in the city. Surrounded by friends (including lots of other writers) and her grown-up children, Stibbe reevaluates her life and muses on a range of topics – from the big things (life, love, family) to the very small (toads, internet adverts, swimming at the lido).
Given the diary-structure, there isn’t a clear narrative thread, but that doesn’t matter. Instead, we get a gossipy, often-funny and lively look at Stibbe’s London life and social circle. This includes a lot of famous friends – I loved that Stibbe’s room was previously Sathnam Sanghera’s (in Deborah Moggach’s house!) and both Nick Hornby and Cathy Rentzenbrink turn up regularly. I’m assuming they have all approved this diary for publication, but it’s an often-affectionate look at the quirky cast of characters who help Stibbe through this tough patch in her life. Alongside the big names, there’s people we met through ‘Love, Nina’, plus new locals like the launderette owner and more members of Stibbe’s extended family.
The diary format also allows Stibbe to grapple with topics which may be considered taboo or personal – there’s a lot about menopause, Rachel Dearborn’s waterworks problems, kegel exercises and HRT. This unflinching warts-and-all approach was refreshing and also educational – there was a lovely sense of female community as the women swap advice and support each other. Other topics are also surprising – there’s a taxi driver story that was both shocking and made me snort with laughter, such is Stibbe’s comic handling of the storytelling.
In ‘Love, Nina’, Stibbe was 20 – in ‘Went to London, Took the Dog’, she’s 60, so it’s definitely a different perspective as she’s older, wiser and more scarred by life. However, she hasn’t lost her keen eye for finding humour in situations and recording snippets of funny conversations – this book is charming and funny, albeit with a thoughtful and sometimes slightly melancholy edge.
I’d recommend this book to anyone who enjoys chatty, witty musings on a range of topics. Some people may be deterred by the lack of narrative structure due to the diary format, but there are lovely threads running through the book that hold it together nicely – things left in the house by Sathnam Sanghera and Debby’s fixation with watering the garden to give a couple of examples. It’s like spending time with a gossipy friend who’s happy to open her heart to you – and you’re left grateful for the experience.
Thanks to NetGalley for my copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.
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Header photo by JESHOOTS.COM on Unsplash
