Aimee Reviews~ The Reactor by Nick Blackburn

When I first spotted Nick Blackburn’s The Reactor, I was drawn to it’s simple and enigmatic cover. The dark indigo cover makes the pink title, The Reactor, pop. But underneath is the embossed subtitle, almost hidden in certain lights: A Book about Grief and Repair. How unusual, I thought.

A memoir about grief may sound like a miserable and almost taboo read, but the first few episodic and emphatic pages are so full of pathos and feeling that I felt compelled to read on. Before I knew it, I was 50 pages in and truly hooked.

Blackburn’s voice is tender and thoughtful, pulling fragmented images together in an attempt to understand his father’s life, his death, and his own emotions about it all. Recurring images, like the reactor at Chernobyl and the image of a precarious nuclear meltdown, both abstract and make clear the fragility and power of grief. Blackburn writes: “Radioactive atoms want to become stable again, so they release energy until they get back to a balanced state.”

Somehow, like a broken mirror, this book feels at once alien and distorted but also creates a glimmer whole picture. Like grief, the distorted sections play with the reader’s perception of time, place, and subject. But somehow, it all fits. This deeply personal image of grief and emotion feels like an honour to read, to be let in on this process, not merely as an act of sympathy but as act of listening to the power of memory, story-telling, and life.

I was particular excited to read this text in light of the ‘The Art of Grieving’ exhibition at the St Albans museum, running from 27 May - 04 Sep 2022. This powerful exhibition features a range of art, sculpture, film, and conversation to make this often hidden and difficult conversation about death a more accessible, comfortable, and human one.