Book Review: Beta Vulgaris by Margie Sarsfield
When I first stumbled upon Beta Vulgaris, I was intrigued, not just by the unconventional title (which pointed to something about beets) but also by the promise of a raw exploration of mental health. How often do we read a story set against the backdrop of a beet farm? As I dove into Margie Sarsfield’s raw and poignant narrative, I found myself completely drawn into the chaotic mind of Elise, the main character, whose journey through the throes of depression felt both alien and intimately familiar.
At its core, Beta Vulgaris is a powerful examination of a woman spiraling into unhinged self-loathing amidst the monotony of a seasonal beet-harvesting job. Elise’s internal dialogue is both brutally honest and painfully relatable, reflecting a deep-seated fear that the world, like herself, harbors disdain. Sarsfield’s sharp humor weaves through this heaviness, a reminder that even in darkness, there are shards of light—albeit twisted.
Elise is a complex character, experiencing an all-too-real struggle with her mental health. From the very first pages, readers witness her unraveling, exacerbated by an eerily relatable cast of characters and the strikingly mundane environment of the farm. A rash on her neck becomes a metaphor for her deteriorating mental health, while her self-awareness juxtaposes her inability to escape her self-inflicted prison of doubt. “Wasn’t there a weird sign on the wall earlier? Where did it go?” These seemingly innocuous observations highlight her disintegrating grip on reality, making her journey feel both surreal and painfully authentic.
Sarsfield certainly knows how to capture the nuances of mid-life anxiety and depression; her portrayal of Elise’s struggle with food—oscillating between starvation and binge-eating—is visceral yet poetically observed. I found my heart sinking with every consuming thought and moment of self-parody, catching myself in the discomfort of her relentless honesty. Her self-critique, punctuated by numbers in parentheses that denote calorie counts, creates a rhythmic dread that echoes throughout the pages. Yet amidst this, there is absurdity and humor—who could resist laughing at the idea of a restaurant called “Spaghett About It”?
One of my favorite moments was when Elise feels a peculiar connection to the beets themselves, as if they whisper to her. This bizarre meta-narrative beautifully captures her alienation and highlights the surreal aspect of her deteriorating mental state. The micro-triggers throughout this book resonate deeply, making every confession hit close to home. While many readers might find Elise’s relentless self-criticism exhausting, I found it grounding; perhaps a reflection of our collective struggles.
While Beta Vulgaris might not be everyone’s cup of tea, especially those who prefer a lighter read, it’s an essential exploration for those interested in the complexities of mental health. Sarsfield evokes a rawness that is haunting yet illuminating, crafted with a skill that leaves you questioning. I personally loved the challenge this book presented, as it pushed me to confront uncomfortable truths about mental health and the human experience.
In closing, I recommend Beta Vulgaris to readers who appreciate a candid examination of bleak topics, flavored with dark humor. It’s a tale that stays with you long after the last page, questioning the nature of identity and connection to self amidst overwhelming self-doubt. If you find comfort in the uncomfortable and are unafraid of the messiness of life, this book could just be one of your best reads of the year, as it was for me. Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for providing this ARC; it was a wild ride, and one worth taking!