You Should Read an Ordinary Age, by Rainesford Stauffer

This year, I found reading again. Some books provided much-needed, blissful escapism from real life; some provided much-needed education for real life; and some provided a not only much-needed but long-overdue mirror of real life. In this latter category was An Ordinary Age: Finding Your Way In A World That Demands Exceptional by Rainesford Stauffer.

If you’d have witnessed me adding it to basket as soon as I discovered it via a random, unrelated article on Medium, you’d probably have thought I was on some kind of Fastest Finger challenge - or, a perhaps more relevant example, trying to buy some One Direction concert tickets back in the day (I’ve never tried for Glastonbury, or Adele.) It was an immediate purchase, the type that makes me angry at myself for never saving my card details on my browser (as a way of discouraging impulse buys) because the process of punching the numbers in slows me down; the type that also makes me slightly sheepish that I, accordingly, now know the 18 digits I need to sail through a checkout swiftly off by heart, even though I struggle to remember my boyfriend of 8 years’ phone number with confidence.

And can you blame me, with that title? It was like Rainesford had reached into my soul with that title and laid me bare. Here was a book created for those of us perpetually stuck in an Always More, Never Enough state of being, on the hamster wheel of a wider Always More, Never Enough world.

And, as I found out as I read the book, she’d laid the situation bare too, with a powerful combination of tenderness, kindness and understanding, yet unflinching, rigorous investigation. Though I believe very much in the power of personal experience, it was so comforting to see studies and statistics and research and science that backed up how I and my peers felt. It’s the perfect companion for the Avocado Toast and Latte generation(s), which goes past the (much appreciated) sympathy statement of “it’ll take much more than stopping buying coffee beans to get on the property ladder” to “here’s the wider context and the perfect storm of how we’re in this situation and why it feels how it feels”. Esquire described it as “A meticulous cartography of how outer forces shape young people’s inner lives” and, as us young people say - mood.

It was this that really got me, too. Because on the face of it, I felt like I had a very basic, surface-level understanding of the fact that I was part of a system (I know instagram is a hell app yet I use it everyday, self-care has become a buzzword but I still invoke it on the reg, and I blame most things, only half-jokingly, on capitalism.) And yet, I still didn’t really understand it - it felt like it was integral to me but insurmountable to be. Inside me, but outside my reach. But with a firm and loving hand, this book granted me the permission (another thing I know about myself: I always want a permission slip) to really reexamine those myths I’ve been fed, and to redefine what I really want.

Also, sorry to take pain in your misery but, fittingly, for a book about being ordinary, it was a real relief to see that these feelings are normal, much more normal than we ever really talk about. Take your pick from the meaty chapters of the book. covering the perfect Zennial storm of loneliness, inadequacy, comparison and success (and failure) in home, spirituality and identity, perfectionism, online life, relationships, finding community, the education system, and more.

Each chapter was a tour de force - I don’t think I’ve ever underlined as many passages or turned down as many corners in a book, including my GCSE English Anthology - but my particular favourites were the chapters on work identities (“for the experience”), on hobbies & experiences, and on the self-care industry.

For example, Rainesford explores the darker side of the concept of finding our calling: “If you’re not getting ahead in what you’re “meant” to do,” she writes, “you’re already behind…We anticipate everyone getting on a single track. If they don’t [hit the benchmarks of success within it], we assume they’re directionless, instead of just finding their direction.” (Ooft.) And this: “What if we started these conversations earlier, unwinding hyped-up versions of “making it” that comes with “accomplishing your dreams”, leaving little room for the fact that dreams or goals might change based on circumstances, realities like finances, or simple shifts in personal preferences that happen as we grow up? After all, even passions can feel fatiguing and frustrating.” (OOFT.) And don’t get me started on the whole section of “How do I define myself beyond what I do, and the security I chase?” (A knock-me-down-with-a-feather, spit-on-my-crotch-fantastic, butter-my-rump-and-call-me-toast kinda ooft. In other words: a big one.)

I promise I’m not gonna regurgitate the whole book back for you - but other big hitters included (this on the chapter on self-care) “We can bath-bomb and girls’-night-in to our hearts’ content, but at the same time, reflect on nurturing different aspects of ourselves through a variety of means. It means not rejecting opportunities to slow down; it means, where we can, holding our societal structures accountable for acknowledging that extraordinary isn’t a standard we’ve chosen. Mostly, it means allowing ourselves the capacity to feel ordinary, to notice how we’re feeling. In other words, just feeling at all.” (I MEAAAAAAAANNNNNNN…!!!)

And, of course - I found some enthusiasm content in there too. (I’m like a truffle pig for the stuff.) I was consuming the book as a reader in desperate need of its help, so I hadn’t gone in with the intent of finding this, but I was so happy to see it reflected back at me (it’s always nice to have proof you’re not a total fraud, isn’t it?) In fact, this section was so key I refused to underline it, knowing as I do how wayward my Biro lines can be and not wanting to risk striking through any of the text. (Instead, I just lined the paragraph so hard to the side that I practically gave it a whole new ISBN.) Visual proof here:

TL;DR of this blog post: 10/10, would recommend. I feel so much less alone, and simultaneously soothed and better equipped to push back. Please buy it!

Aaaanyway. I don’t know whether this was a book review, a creepy fan review (Rainesford ur brill) or a desperate plea to you to read this life changing book and scream knowing “OH MY GODS” into the howling wind with me but whatever it was, I hope you enjoyed it! Here’s to a very, very ordinary 2022 (but, like, pre-pandemic ordinary, please. Not the new normal. No thanks)