AnotherPlanet_ATeenagerinSuburbia - (EPUB全文下载)

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AnotherPlanet
Also by Tracey ThornBedsit Disco QueenNaked at the Albert Hall
TraceyThorn
AnotherPlanet
A Teenager in Suburbia
First published in Great Britain, the USA and Canada in 2019by Canongate Books Ltd,14 High Street, Edinburgh EH1 1TE
Distributed in the USA by Publishers Group West and in Canada by Publishers Group Canada
canongate.co.uk
This digital edition first published in 2019 by Canongate Books
Copyright © Tracey Thorn, 2019
The moral right of the author has been asserted
For permission credits please see p. 211
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication DataA catalogue record for this book is available onrequest from the British Library
ISBN 978 1 78689 255 3Export ISBN 978 1 78689 256 0eISBN 978 1 78689 257 7
For Debbie and KeithAnd in memory of Audrey and DennisWith love
CONTENTS
Preface
Another Planet
Author’s Note
Acknowledgements
Permission Credits
PREFACE
‘You look as if you wished the place in Hell,’
My friend said, ‘judging from your face.’ ‘Oh well,
I suppose it’s not the place’s fault,’ I said.
‘Nothing, like something, happens anywhere.’
(Philip Larkin: ‘I Remember, I Remember’)
When I try to summon up the past – when I want to remember what really happened, instead of what I think happened, and what I really felt, instead of what I’d like to think I felt, and what I really did, instead of what I say I did – I look at my diaries. They never fail to shock me with all the things they say, and all the things they don’t. Going right back to the start, I try to picture myself on the day I first decided to keep a diary: 29 December 1975, when I was thirteen years old. I must have been given it as a Christmas present, and although it was for the year 1976, its first few pages invited entries for the end of the previous year. So I began as the old year ended, just before it turned to face the new.
I would have settled down with a pen, riffled through the year’s worth of blank, empty pages before breaking it open at the very start, and then:
29 December 1975 – ‘Went to St Albans with Debbie. Got a belt. Could not get a jumper or skirt.’
That’s it, that’s all she wrote. No starting with a bang, no announcing herself to the world, or to a future reader, no declaration of intent. Nothing along the lines of ‘Dear Diary, draw closer and listen to what I have to say. Here I am; this is me; let me tell you the story of my life.’ Not even the guileless enthusiasm of a thirteen-year-old self-introduction – ‘Hello, I’m Tracey and this is my diary.’ ............

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