But in reading her memoir, it is clear that she saved herself. She mentions that journalists previously romanticised her journey to recovery by reporting her Harry Potter casting is what saved her from anorexia. “To me, recovery felt much more like surrendering, like giving up the fight, like turning my back on my truest friend,” she writes. She explains how “gaining weight” and “normal eating habits” are superficial aspects of recovery and how there is an element of grief and submission that comes with no longer being anorexic. “I really believe recovery from physical recovery is where the work to recovery truly begins, and that it’s a mistake to celebrate recovery at this juncture and to suppose it ended here.” “Mostly, when we talk about recovery, we talk about it being triumphant, glorious: all strength and power,” she writes. What is quite compelling is how Lynch dispels the myths around recovery. The child of two teachers, based in a small town in north-east of Drogheda. It is noted quite early on in the memoir that Lynch comes from a very loving home. She writes in painstaking detail about her time in a specialised eating disorder rehabilitation centre in London and reveals some disturbing truths about the psyche of the long-term anorexics she met during her hospitalisation.
There is an overwhelming focus on how her self-loathing manifests itself as pre-teen anorexia and the strain it had on her family and creative mind. The Irish actress, who is best known for her role as Luna Lovegood in Harry Potter, writes that her story is about “choosing creativity, love and a positive outlook on life”, and while there is an embellishment of hope and positivity in it, her gnawing sense of worthlessness and self-hatred are central themes throughout the book. However, it later becomes clear that the abrupt opening sets the tone for the rest of the memoir: a dark, and uncomfortable read that feigns a marginal degree of optimism.
Some readers may wonder whether the question is deliberately included for its shock value. “What’s rape?” she writes, as she recalls her 10-year-old self picking her mother’s brain about something “unspeakable”.
The opening chapter of Evanna Lynch’s memoir The Opposite of Butterfly Hunting may send a few chills down your spine.
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