What if one half of a pair of twins no longer wants to live? What if the other can’t live without them? This question lies at the heart of Jente Posthuma’s deceptively simple What I’d Rather Not Think About. The narrator is a twin whose brother has recently taken his own life. She looks back on their childhood, and tells of their adult lives: how her brother tried to find happiness, but lost himself in various men and the Bhagwan movement, though never completely. 

A deeply moving exploration of grief, told in brief, precise vignettes and full of gentle melancholy and surprising humour. Translated from Dutch by Sarah Timmer Harvey.

Two

Two is the protagonist of What I’d Rather Not Think About. While her real name is never disclosed, we learn her twin brother defined her as ‘Two’ as she was born 45 minutes after him. ‘He treated me like his little sister, was longer and heavier than me at birth, and had taken up almost all the space in my mother’s belly. I’d been stuck behind him with my left leg thrown over my shoulder, or so the story goes.’ 

After his suicide, Two mourns the death of her brother and desperately seeks to find answers to his unhappiness, buried within his belongings. 

One

Two’s brother is described by One as ‘more active, talked louder, and threw bigger tantrums than I did’. His parents simply call him ‘headstrong’. One is gay, a fact Two always knows. In his adult life, he suffers from depression. He dies by suicide at age 35. 

Jente Posthuma was born in Enschede, Netherlands. Her critically acclaimed first novel, Mensen zonder uitstraling (People Without Charisma), was published in 2016 and nominated for the Dioraphte Literatour Prize, the Hebban Debut Prize and the ANV Debut Prize.

Posthuma took Literary Studies at university and began her career as a journalist, doing extensive interviews for De Groene Amsterdammer, nrc.next, and de Volkskrant. Her short stories appeared in, among others, De Revisor, Das Magazin, Hollands Maandblad, and De Gids.

Her second novel What I’d Rather Not Think About (2020) was equally well received and was also shortlisted for the European Union Prize for Literature 2021. 

Sarah Timmer Harvey is a translator and writer based in New York. Reconstruction, a collection of stories written by the Dutch-Surinamese writer Karin Amatmoekrim and translated by Sarah, was published by Strangers Press in 2020. Sarah’s translations of Dutch-language poetry and prose have appeared in Modern Poetry in Translation, Asymptote, Gulf Coast Journal, The Los Angeles Review, and elsewhere. 

The Telegraph 

‘What makes What I’d Rather Not Think About rise above the average mourning novel is its utter authenticity. Posthuma associates, philosophizes, links memories to everyday actions, draws on films and television series and tries to interpret in a laconic, light-footed and pointed way. “Less is more” with Jente Posthuma. And again, she seems to be saying: nothing is “whole” here, in the subhuman. Everything rumbles, frays, and creaks.’

Nederlands Letterenfonds / Dutch Foundation for Literature

‘Posthuma’s scenes are deceptively light and sometimes wryly absurd, full of dialogue that is all about what’s not being said. Two’s urge to keep her brother close is always pulsing beneath the surface. But her brother is ‘broken and can’t be fixed anymore.’ After his death, Two hides out in his apartment, reading and rereading his journals. The desire to understand him remains, but she doesn’t find the answers she’s looking for. Posthuma has written a novel about this predicament that is deeply moving, vulnerable and funny.’

Alison Huber, Readings.com.au

‘In some ways it is tricky to recommend this book widely because of its difficult subject matter: it revolves around the grief of a twin who is trying to work out how to move forward in her own life after her brother, a long-term sufferer of depression, takes his own. To paraphrase the title, familial suicide and depression are certainly two of the key things many people would rather not think (or indeed read) about, but I want to tell you that this book is gorgeous. It is expertly crafted, moving, and at times startlingly funny, as the narrator tries to navigate the enormity of her loss.’

The Sydney Morning Herald

‘This exquisitely vulnerable novel inverts the upbeat struggle between twins which tends to dominate fictional portrayals. The narrator, Two, had a twin brother, One, who has recently killed himself. […] It’s psychologically dark – Two succumbs to an eccentric compulsion and she researches everything she can about Mengele’s brutal “experiments” on twins at Auschwitz – with no false sense of “closure”, and reminded me of Thomas Bernhard’s unrelentingly bleak, absurd, existential short fiction (ultimately comic, but only just) on a similar theme.’

Rebecca Foster, Foreword

‘With no speech marks, the conversations blend into cogitation and memories. Two meets with a therapist to parse her conflicting emotions and contemplate the meaning of self-harm. Suicide stories pervade the text, with the twins trading trivia about Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, September 11, 2001, and the Holocaust. A wry tone, however, tempers the bleakness. What I’d Rather Not Think About is a forthright novel in which mental health, sexual orientation, and suicide are subjects of frank, empathetic consideration.’

‘A deeply moving exploration of grief and identity through the lives of twins, one of whom dies by suicide. Posthuma delves into the surviving twin’s efforts to understand and come to terms with the loss of her brother, examining the profound complexities of familial bonds. Posthuma navigates delicate themes with sensitivity and formal inventiveness, portraying the nuances of the twins’ relationship and the individual struggles they face. The author skilfully inflects tragedy with unexpected humour and provides a multifaceted look at the search for meaning in the aftermath of suicide. What I’d Rather Not Think About stands out for its empathetic portrayal of love, loss, and resilience.’ 

How would you summarise this book in a sentence to encourage readers to pick it up? 

What I’d Rather Not Think About is a deeply moving journey through the intertwining lives of twins grappling with the complexities of identity, loss, and the unspoken bonds that define us. 

Is there something unique about this book, something that you haven’t encountered in fiction before? 

The book’s raw exploration of a twin relationship, coupled with a rare authenticity in depicting the process of mourning, provides a narrative that’s both uniquely insightful and tender in its humanity. 

What do you think it is about this book that readers will not only admire, but really love? 

Readers will cherish the novel’s delicate balance between humour and heartbreak, as it navigates through the twins’ lives with wry wit and a moving candidness. 

Can you tell us about any particular characters that readers might connect with, and why? 

The brother, with his complex inner life and the starkly honest depiction of his struggles, will resonate with readers who appreciate characters that reflect the nuances of mental health struggles. 

Although it’s a work of fiction, is there anything about it that’s especially relevant to issues we’re confronting in today’s world? 

The novel’s frank examination of the ways that depression can shape an individual and an entire family makes it particularly relevant for today’s readers. 

Is there one specific moment in the book that has stuck in your mind and, if so, why? 

A moment that lingers is when the siblings attempt to waterboard each other out of a misguided sense of curiosity, leading to a profound realisation about trust, control, and the depth of their bond; it’s a raw, unsettling scene that captures the complex interplay of love and pain in close relationships.

[What were the inspirations behind the book? What made you want to tell this particular story?]

‘For me, each book begins very personally, with something happening within myself. For this book, it was the emotions I experienced when the one person I thought would always be there withdrew from my life. It was as if suddenly I had no ground beneath my feet and was falling into an endless abyss. My situation was very different from the protagonist’s situation in my book – nobody died – but the feelings were similar. It was a grieving process. I don’t believe in family anymore, is a statement from the book. I felt that way for a while too. It’s a cliché, but this experience gave me a profound awareness of my loneliness and, at the same time, instilled in me a confidence in myself that I didn’t have before.’

Read the full interview here.

‘I aimed to maintain sympathy for all the characters while ensuring that their portrayal was filtered through Two’s perspective. This lens was crucial for portraying One, who is indeed quite obsessive. His similarities with Two emerge throughout the novel, such as his obsession with cults and his attempts to assume his boyfriend’s identity. He’s searching for the same things that his sister is, but they struggle to communicate effectively. In navigating this dynamic, I drew from personal experiences with siblings and loved ones, where we tend to see people the way we want to see them rather than who they truly are.’

Read the full interview in Asymptotejournal.com.

‘The prose shines in its simplicity and dark humor. Kudos to author and translator in discussing an intense story about grief and loss in a concise, affable way. A work of astonishing sensitivity.’

Sandeep Gopalakrishnan

What I’d Rather Not Think About is made up of a series of vignettes – small chapters, often no longer than a paragraph in length – that traverse back and forth through time as the narrator recounts her life with her twin brother. Why do you think Posthuma adopted this format for the book, and what does it offer the reader that a traditional, linear novel could not?

The author peppers the text with moments of humour. As readers, it’s easy to laugh with – and even at – the narrator. Discuss how this use of humour, set within otherwise dark subject matter, may help readers navigate this material.

‘It took another eight years for my brother to tell our mother that he was into boys, a fact so obvious to me that his solemn tone seemed absurd. My brother was the norm, and I was the anomaly, which is why I didn’t understand my mother’s odd reaction.’ (Page 14). The narrator, Two, refers to herself as ‘the anomaly’ within the text. What might she have meant by the term, and why did she feel this of herself and her place in the family? 

Posthuma leverages a series of recurring ideas throughout What I’d Rather Not Think About as a way to discuss twins generally and her relationship with her brother: New York’s Twin Towers and Philippe Petit’s tightrope walk between them; Josef Mengele, the doctor of Auschwitz, and his experimentations on twins at Auschwitz. How are these seemingly disparate themes, or Two’s obsessions, interconnected, and what do they signify for her? 

After her brother’s death, Two moves into his apartment and dedicates much of her time to reading his journals, searching for clues and trying to understand his actions. She revisits their past, analysing times when their paths may have begun to diverge. Does she, and can she, find the answers she is looking for to ever truly understand her brother’s death? 

Two describes in the book how she approaches friendships, explaining that she likes to become a natural presence in her friends’ lives, almost like a piece of furniture. She believes that to be a natural presence, you shouldn’t take up too much space. Why do you think Two feels this way? Could it be because her parents gave more of their attention to her brother at a younger age, or some other reason?

When the twins turn 28 they are able to access their father’s savings. Their father believed that 28 is the age that people truly become adults, it was the age he had become a father. Would you agree?

There’s a significant quote in the book where Two says, ‘By my twenty-seventh birthday, I owned 142 sweaters, and it was high time I saw a therapist’ (Page 17). What do you think is the underlying problem that’s causing Two’s ever expanding sweater collection?

As the twins start to grow apart, Two brings it up with her brother, who says, ‘Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Eventually, we’re going to have to lead our own lives’ (Page 39). Hurt at One’s indifference, Two says that she doesn’t need her own life. Why do you think she says this?

‘According to Leo, natural law dictates that there’s always one person who loves more than the other’ (Page 66).  Do you think this is true or can relationships, both romantic and familial, be on equal footing in regards to love?

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