Annie Lord

Dark, fierce and raw, Notes on Heartbreak is a love story told in reverse, starting with a devastating break-up. As Annie Lord deals with her broken heart, the book constantly revisits the past, from the moment she first fell in love, to the months that saw the slow erosion of a bond five years in the making. We feel Annie's pain with her, join her as she begins to heal, and cringe or laugh in recognition of our own experience as Annie charts her attempts to move on, from disastrous rebound sex to sending ill-advised nudes, stalking your ex's new girlfriend on Instagram and the sharp indignity of being ghosted. This stunning exploration of love and heartbreak from cult journalist and Vogue columnist Annie Lord, is so much more than a book about one singular break-up. it is an unflinchingly honest yet lyrical meditation on the simultaneous joy and pain of being in love that will resonate with anyone who has ever nursed a broken heart. It's a book about the best and worst of love: the euphoric and the painful, the beautiful and the messy. Perfect for fans of Everything I Know About Love, How to Heal a Broken Heart, Conversations on Love and Three Women.

Notes on Heartbreak

Kristina Bonitz

I know, he says, and for a moment I think about how lucky I am to have people who love me so much they will let me hate them just in case it helps.

But more than curating my own space, I want to be free to be messy in it too. To see myself as so important that the place I live comes second to it. 

It makes me think about something my mum always says, which is that her favorite thing about women is their ability to chat. Everything roams and spirals, turns down unexpected corners. 

Men say women aren't funny and I think that's because they need a badum-bum-tish punchline; they don't see that the humour is riddled through everything we say, so that everyone's always laughing a little bit. Most of the time we talk through the language of experiences, a few too many of them painful, and we find our way to those hurts and tug them out of each other, like following the trail of a map we didn’t know was already inside us. 

I feel so powerless, not being able to check on him, like when you’re small and someone stretches out their arm and puts their palm on your head so that when you try to fight them you can’t reach far enough to hit them with your arms. 

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