Annabel Abbs
John Murray Press (UK, out now); G. P. Putnam鈥檚 Sons (US, 14 February)
MUCH ink has been spilled on sleep in popular science books (and in this magazine). We know how a lack of it can expose us to neurological conditions such as Alzheimer鈥檚 or Parkinson鈥檚, as well as corrupt memory and the ability to regulate emotions. We also know how many hours we need and how 鈥渟leep hygiene鈥� is key to getting more.
While true and important, this makes for unpleasant reading for the one-in-three people suffering from insomnia. Now, a book called Sleepless may help them find solace in the small hours.
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Its author is Annabel Abbs, a writer and novelist gripped by insomnia after the sudden death of her father in 2020. Like many who lose someone they love, she busied herself with admin and caring for those around her. The nights, she decided, were her time to grieve. She gave up on chasing sleep and allowed herself to be drawn to the power of night and darkness.
Sleepless chronicles the discovery of what Abbs calls her 鈥渘ight self鈥�, a side of her personality she had never met before. Each chapter examines a different facet of this self, weaving personal experience and cultural exploration of other insomniac women throughout history with scientific explanations of the physiology that might create a nighttime shift in personality.
Experiencing this shift is open to us all 鈥� if we dare examine it. Daring is a big part of the story, as we have evolved (for good and obvious reasons) to fear the dark. Much of Abbs鈥檚 journey is spent attempting to conquer this fear, but also embrace it. Research shows, for instance, that people who fear the dark are more imaginative in semi-obscurity.
Fear of the night is a legitimate concern for women, who have often been unwelcome and vulnerable in dark spaces, with studies conducted in dimly-lit streets showing that men become more disinhibited and antisocial there. So finding a way to embrace the night can be particularly liberating for women.
But while this book is focused on the female relationship with the night, Sleepless is most successful when it ventures into nature after dark, detailing the wonder of a nocturnal planet few of us experience. Abbs鈥檚 descriptions of the pleasures of sleeping, waking and walking under the night sky are a tempting reminder of adventure and connection with the wild.
For anyone who has gazed at the stars and felt calmer, Abbs cites experiments showing that our panoramic vision stills the amygdala, the brain鈥檚 鈥渢hreat centre鈥�. Then there is the cathedral effect, where high ceilings are said to encourage abstract thought and lower ceilings more detail-oriented thinking. What higher ceiling is there than the night sky? Writing at night, Abbs finds her imagination is unleashed, while Virginia Woolf, another insomniac, devised some of her wilder plots while laying awake.
In fact, Abbs credits fantastical novels such as Woolf鈥檚 literary satire Orlando to the biochemical changes shown to happen at night. For example, levels of noradrenaline and cortisol, hormones that block connections between widespread brain areas to keep us focused, dip at night to leave tired brains more connected and able to free-associate. Dopamine levels also rise, fuelling imagination.
This switching between culture and science makes for an easy read, but can leave you wanting more, and the science sometimes feels shoehorned in. Where Abbs really succeeds is in subverting narratives about sleep, making connections between grief and insomnia many will relate to 鈥� and in revealing a wondrous night world.
Sleepless is more than an antidote to sleep zealotry; it marks a special place to embrace and enjoy: 鈥淲hen the world sleeps, space opens up for those who need it.鈥�
