No Other Troy

Sinéad Marie Bernadette O’Connor, also known as Magda Davitt and, since converting to Islam in 2018, Shuhada’ Sadaqat, died three years ago today in London, and the grief of millions was unleashed upon the world. “She was right all along!” cried the crowds, lamenting her collective mistreatment by the powers that be, the institutions of men that mocked her, cancelled her, threatened her, and robbed her. Of course, she was unbowed by it all. “I never wanted to be a pop star,” she said, again and again. “I'm Irish, I'm a fucking protest singer."

The idea for the collection Nothing Compares to You: What Sinéad O’Connor Means to Us — coedited by Sonya Huber and myself — came together in the immediacy of her death, just days later. The tidal wave of grief it unleashed was driven by women of a certain age, my age, whose consciousness was forged in the 80s and 90s and saw in her commitment to protest a path forward through the misogyny and commercialism of popular culture. What did she mean to us? Why were we, whom she had taught to distrust the false promises of stardom, so bereft? What was it, exactly, that we had lost?

When Sonya asked for help pulling a set of essays together in an attempt to craft a collective answer to that question, I jumped at the chance. One writer, one song, we decided — each essayist crafting a close read exploring the impact of Sinéad’s artistry on their own evolution as artists, thinkers, and humans in the world.

Neko Case writes in the foreword to our book:

“Sinéad O’Connor’s music is a gift I received from my persistent, loving friends. What a beautiful state of affairs. Most of us have "‘given’ music to another person one time or another and likely changed them away from some darker place, of just gave them some fizzy joy. It never stops amazing me what that transaction can manifest. I think that’s why sometimes we don’t listen to a favorite life-changing record for years after wearing it out and committing it to muscle memory. It acts as a poultice — a medicine, some feel-good drugs and a Ziploc bag to keep it in for later, when you need it. When you open it again you may not be ready and maybe that’s when you need it most. It feels like the reason we stay alive.”

I like to think that in a small way, the essays in Nothing Compares can be slipped into the same medicine bag. You might not know you need them, but when you find the one that heals your peculiar wound you’ll know it. As women’s rights continue to be crushed by the violence, greed, and cruelty that has become the currency of this land, they will remind you that you’re right, and that you’re still alive to fight.

You can read the rest of Neko’s essay at Lit Hub, here.

A few other essays from the collection were published last summer by various kind outlets, including Rayne Fisher Quann’s appreciation of “Daddy I’m Fine,” at Interview Magazine, and May-Lee Chai’s examination of the mother-daughter bond as forged through Sinéad and the song “Jump in the River,” which Peter C. Baker published at his Substack Tracks on Tracks.

And, of course, at Oldster Magazine you can read Megan Stielstra’s devastating take on the title track from our book — in which she weaves the beauty of this signature song into a tapestry of love and death and old/new love.

I think those are the only four pieces currently circulating in the world, but it’s enough to get you started for the day. The book itself contains a full 26 essays by a rack of brilliant women and nonbinary writers. In addition to those cited above, the book includes work by Sharbari Ahmed, Stacey Lynn Brown, Brooke Champagne, Jill Christman, Heidi Czerwiec, Mieke Eerkens, Gina Frangello, Madhushree Ghosh, Sinéad Gleeson, Stephanie Elizondo Griest, Myriam Gurba, Lauretta Hannon, Nalini Jones, Porochista Khakpour, Allyson McCabe, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha, Millicent Souris, Sarah Viren, Lidia Yuknavitch, Zoe Zolbrod, and my coeditor Sonya Huber and myself.

You can pick up a copy of the book anywhere books are sold. The paperback will be out August 25, but the hardback is currently discounted on Amazon (I just saw), and there’s also a beautiful ebook voiced by not one but FIVE different narrators.

Have a great Sunday.