‘Maguire writes with clear skill and confidence … One of the most compelling elements of this accomplished book is Maguire’s ability to completely inhabit a character … Impactful and beautifully rendered.’

—Saturday Paper

‘Like Melina Marchetta, [Maguire] is a deft hand at writing moving family sagas that give equal airtime to individual characters and their own idiosyncrasies, while also presenting the bigger picture.’

—Sydney Morning Herald

‘Fierce, insightful and deeply moving, Love Objects offers readers a gritty and honest look at contemporary Australia, examining issues of class, and privacy. It’s a brilliant and big-hearted novel and one of my favourite reads so far this year.’

—Better Reading

‘In Love Objects Maguire navigates the complex terrains of mental illness, class and rape culture with her trademark empathy and intelligence. This novel is an intimate, compelling read for fans of Sofie Laguna and Peggy Frew.’

—Books + Publishing

‘Love Objects speaks to the complex intersections between class, mental health, shame, age and the female body, and the way we navigate these topics within the intimate confines of family. Nic and Lena are fully realised—imperfect, complicated creations who are able to navigate the unintended consequences of their good intentions. Maguire’s latest novel is clear-eyed and hopeful—a case study in the deeply human desire to connect.’

—The Monthly

EMILY MAGUIRE is the author of six novels, including the Stella Prize and Miles Franklin Award shortlisted An Isolated Incident, and three non-fiction books. Love Objects was shortlisted for the Literary Fiction Book of the Year, Australian Book Industry Awards in 2022. Her articles and essays on sex, feminism, culture and literature have been published widely, including in The Sydney Morning Herald, The Australian, The Observer and The Age. Emily works as a teacher and as a mentor to young and emerging writers and was the 2018/2019 Writer-in-Residence at the Charles Perkins Centre at the University of Sydney.

ONE

NIC

NIC

Nic’s shoes had always worn unevenly. Pigeon-toed was what the ballet teacher, who was actually just an ordinary mum who had lived in France for a year when she was younger, had called her. Such a pretty face, but those feet! the fake-French ballet teacher would cry, patting six-year-old Nic’s smooth cheeks and gazing not at the terrible feet but away from them at the school hall rafters. What would she say now? Nic wonders, watching each foot press its inside into the asphalt as it stepped. Such a sagging face! At last a match for your sloppy feet!