41-LOVE

The British novelist tells of how a midlife return to competitive tennis turned into a “cursed dance” that unexpectedly derailed her life.

At 41, Thomas had solid career prospects at her university, a stable relationship, and a just-finished new novel. Yet all she really wanted was “another trophy” to affirm that she was still the “prodigy, sort of,” who walked away from tennis at age 14. “Tennis was my first love,” writes the author. “Every other sport I ever played was with my eyes closed and the duvet stuffed in my mouth so I didn’t shout out its name, the name of my real passion, my soulmate.” When her wealthy paternal grandmother deemed the author “common, as well as uncouth and unsophisticated and weird,” Thomas was sent away to a posh private school. Soon, her intense desire to prove her tennis skills transformed winning games into losing ones. When she finally returned to the game again in the summer of 2013, Thomas discovered that tennis was more than just a social and athletic hobby; it soon controlled her life and thoughts. For the next year, the author pursued the sport relentlessly, winning trophies and local recognition. Yet her wins felt meaningless; she only wanted more. Her own harshest critic, Thomas eventually reached the semifinals at Seniors’ Wimbledon, then learned she was ranked “131 in the world for over-40 women.” Soon after, she suffered from burnout, “like a moth sizzling in the plastic tray of a fluorescent light, because I could not keep away from the brightness and the flames.” With its obsessive attention to such details as tennis equipment, attire, and events on the court during matches, much of the story is tedious and often overshadows the more compelling emotional and socio-economic aspects underlying the author’s brutal need to win. Ultimately, Thomas hints at rather than consciously explores the reasons behind her fall from tennis grace, and the book’s appeal may be limited to those who share the author’s love of tennis.

An interesting but flawed narrative experiment.