In the Book Notes series, authors create and discuss a music playlist that relates in some way to their recently published book.
Previous contributors include Jesmyn Ward, Lauren Groff, Bret Easton Ellis, Celeste Ng, T.C. Boyle, Dana Spiotta, Hanif Abdurraqib, Andrew Sean Greer, Roxane Gay, and many others.
Lisa Owens’s novel Natural Disaster shares an compelling 24-hour glimpse of modern motherhood both profound and brilliantly comic.
Booklist wrote of the book:
“The pressures placed on the modern working mother shape Owens’ latest…Told entirely in a stream of consciousness, Natural Disaster follows the narrator’s shifting thoughts as she navigates the day…confront[ing] difficult subjects such as resentment, infidelity, and burnout, while showing how love can also feel demanding, conflicted, and hard to sustain. Owens presents a clear account of a woman trying to meet competing demands. The result is a focused study of motherhood, disappointment, and love.””
In her own words, here is Lisa Owens’s Book Notes music playlist for her novel Natural Disaster:
Natural Disaster is set across a single 24 hour period. It follows a mother who is hoping to spend a lovely last day with her two small children before returning to work after maternity leave, but inevitably her plans go awry almost from the outset. These songs and pieces reflect some of the themes, moods and ideas the book and its heroine are grappling with as the day spirals beyond her control.
Perfect Day, Lou Reed
If Natural Disaster were a movie this track would play over the trailer. As well as providing a nice dose of dramatic irony, I think the song also captures something of the spirit of the novel, which on one level is about what happens when perfectionism and idealism collides with a person’s private insecurities and fears that they are not really up to scratch.
Kooks, David Bowie
This is such a charming song, which acknowledges the bittersweet, fleeting nature of childhood – ‘soon you’ll grow’ – and I love the way it portrays the child as a benevolent figure gracing the parents with his presence. It’s so playful and joyful, which aren’t always modes accessible to the protagonist of Natural Disaster: I think if she had put Kooks on in the kitchen first thing in the morning, she might have loosened up a bit, and been able to approach the day with more levity and less anxiety.
The Planets: Jupiter, Gustav Holst
This piece has taken on a new significance since the ‘Sleepytime’ episode of the genius Australian TV show Bluey, which features ‘Jupiter’ as its soundtrack. There is a beautiful moment where the dreaming child perceives her mother as the sun, and the gorgeous swell of the music taps into the awesome and bewildering scope and scale of motherhood that I was trying to articulate in the novel.
All Things Must Pass by George Harrison
One of the most useful axioms I heard as a new parent was, ‘This too shall pass’: a vital reminder that every phase of a child’s development, whether challenging or delightful, will give way to a new set of challenges and joys – a lesson that is universally applicable to the phases of life, not just parenting. This song is hugely comforting in the way it confronts the natural, unstoppable flow of time, and the idea that nothing, however overwhelming it feels in the moment, is fixed: in my novel, I wanted the intense 24 hour structure to suggest that the protagonist’s difficult day (or days) will pass, and give way to different, possibly better ones.
Hush Little Baby, Nina Simone
I’m sadly not a gifted singer but have nonetheless been so grateful for the existence of the humble lullaby in my time as a parent. Being able to sing a simple tune over and over, even with my musical limitations, has in times of pain or sleeplessness or distress, sometimes been the only thing that has helped to calm and soothe my children. In my novel, the protagonist ruminates about her reliance on her phone and Google to find answers to parenting problems, and she worries whether she possesses an innate aptitude for motherhood. She finds it hard to be present and engaged in part because she is so concerned about getting it right, but like most mothers she probably does have the basic, effective, instinctive tools that would allow her to be ‘good enough’, if only she can get out of her own way and stop fixating on perfection.
Lisa Owens is a novelist and screenwriter. She was born in England to Irish parents, and grew up in Scotland and Hertfordshire. Her debut novel, Not Working, was published in 2016. She lives in London with her family.