Raziqueh Hussain
IT is with a heart that feels personally and profoundly broken that we say goodbye to Sophie Kinsella. The world has lost its literary sunshine, and for so many of us, it feels like losing the friend who always understood the beautiful, chaotic mess of being a woman.
Sophie didn’t just write novels; she wrote lifelines. Her irrepressible Becky Bloomwood was the sister we all recognised, validating our secret passions and assuring us that a maxed-out credit card couldn’t max out our spirit. But for me, and perhaps for you, her magic went deeper than the shopping bag. It wove itself into the very fabric of our lives.
The Undomestic Goddess wasn’t just a book to me; it was my mirror. Like Samantha Sweeting, I, too, was framed at my workplace. I knew the chilling vertigo of a career shattering in a single, unjust moment. And Sophie, with her divine understanding, didn’t just narrate that panic, she built an escape route out of it. She led me, through Samantha, into a world where burning a roast was a triumph, where dust bunnies held less power than a good friend, and where starting over with flour on your nose was the bravest, most glorious thing you could do.
Her stories became the chapters of my own story. They were there for my fresh start, and they were there for my great, public stumble and the resilient comeback that followed. When Becky Bloomwood took on America in Shopaholic Takes Manhattan, I felt that same thrilling, naive hope. And like Becky, I too have been “captured in headlines” during a fall from grace, (from a concocted dishonest blogger) a moment of very public humiliation that felt like it would define me forever. But Sophie, through Becky, taught me the art of the spring-back. She showed me that a scandal could be outrun, a headline could be forgotten, and that resilience wasn’t about avoiding the flashbulbs, but about smiling through them and writing your own next chapter with even more verve.
And her stories didn’t just heal our wounds and chart our comebacks; they soundtracked our deepest joys. For me, the sweet magic of I’ve Got Your Number is forever linked to the man who would become my husband. Its pages, that brilliant, hilarious tale of lost phones and found love, were his first gift to me. That book sits on our shelf, not just as a favourite, but as a sacred relic of our beginning. Sophie didn’t just write about romance; she provided the vocabulary for ours.
This is the legacy she leaves, not merely on shelves, but etched into our personal histories. She was the author who met us in our lowest cubicle-desperation, stood with us in the glare of our mistakes, and taught us to bounce back with grace and humour.
Sophie Kinsella leaves behind a universe of readers who don’t just admire her work, but owe her a piece of their happiness and their resilience. For us, her global family of readers, the story has ended too soon. But every time we laugh in the face of chaos, choose hope over perfection, dust ourselves off from a public fall, or see our own lives, our setbacks, our leaps of faith, our great loves, reflected in a well-loved page, her extraordinary light continues to shine.
Thank you for everything, Sophie. I will miss you terribly. Rest in peace, and keep them laughing up there.
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Raziqueh Hussain is the founder of Explorer’s Digest, the children’s magazine that makes learning an adventure. A distinguished journalist, she previously served as Editor-in-Chief of a major UK magazine.
