His has been a life caught up in confessional discourse from the very start. As an ex-choirboy in Northampton, he came out to his family at the age of 16. Later, experiencing the Aids epidemic at first-hand in London in his mid-20s, he consoled a lot of suffering friends and sat beside many deathbeds. Around that time, as part of the pop band the Communards, Coles co-wrote a string of confessional ballads. In his 30s he was a Catholic monk for a time, switching to Anglicanism and becoming a vicar in his 40s. When social media came along Coles went all in, becoming a devoted and filter-less Tweeter and Facebooker. The book is a story of loss, but also a captivating tale of a romance – it has to be, because without understanding the depth of love we can’t fathom the clawing darkness of losing it. That symbiosis, that paradox, is the foundation of an intimate partnership, and one part of it can’t be had without the other.

The epidemic brought Coles closer to God, in a similar way, he says, to the spike in the number of men who sought ordination after the second world war. He spent much of his youth as an atheist (even setting up an atheist society at school), but after the years of fame, drugs and grief, he consulted a psychiatrist, who suggested he see a priest. Walking out of Kettering General Hospital’s A&E on December 13, 2019, the Rev Richard Coles heard a voice. “Oh look, it’s the Strictly Rev! Do us a twirl, Rev!” Coles allowed himself to be steered through the inevitable selfies — “smile, thumbs up” — wondering if his admirers would later wonder why he was so pale, or notice the blood dried on his hands.It is a compelling and movingly honest read. Obviously, Coles’ feelings are still very raw as he struggles to come to terms with the unexpected death of his partner who was a mere 42 years old. We understand at the beginning that the cause of death is a gastro-intestinal bleed and only learn much later that the root cause of this is alcohol. I had to laugh out loud when Richard likened David to Imelda in the shoe department - that was how Steve referred to me.

Beautifully written, raw and deeply personal . . . A revealing and often funny insight into love and loss— ATTITUDE These people find themselves repeatedly faced with some life-changing and traumatic events, and the reader can't help but be pulled right into the tangled web of the narrative. (There are so many secrets!)A lot about grief has surprised him: the volume of “sadmin” you have to do when someone dies, how much harder it is travelling for work alone (“I always used to call David when I stayed in a hotel on my own”), the sting of typing out a text message to his partner, then realising he is no longer there. Richard Coles' civil partner, David, died in December 2019 due to complications arising from his alcoholism. Whilst Coles had grown accustomed to David's quirks and side-effects due to his illness, his death was sudden and unexpected. Although not a self-help book, the homilies, experience and catharsis within creates invaluable solace. It will resonate for the myriad struggling with grief wrought by the pandemic— THE QUIETUS Also set in modern-day London, Bowl of Fruit tells the story of a man with a fantastical talent, and of his epic, twenty-four hour journey with a beautiful ghost-writer who knows more about his past than he does. IndieReader named Bowl of Fruit one of its "Best Indie Books of 2015", calling it "a magically original story" and "an incredible read". I spent Christmas with Charles and Karen Spencer at Althorp House, who have been so kind to me. They also have a wall around the house, which helped because I was getting some unwelcome media attention at the time. On Christmas Day I went for a walk in their grounds, and there was Diana’s grave, the resting place of someone whose death had been so public, so known. That rather focused it all.

A memoir of love and loss, The Madness of Grief is one clergyman's account of losing his partner of 12 years and coping withthe tragedy of bereavementafter his death. Death is par for the course for the Rev Richard Coles. Whether it’s pastoral care for the bereaved, discussions about the afterlife with parishioners or being called out to perform the last rites – death comes with the job. But since his partner, the Rev David Coles, died in December, a lot about death has taken Coles by surprise. I am not going to tell you any of the secrets, because that would spoil the whole thing for you. But remember that it is a book about secrets and identity, and realness and fantasy, grief and recovery, and what masquerades as fantasy often is a disguise for despair. No. Because I think I need to conceal this book from him. He would just be so angry, I know he would! He’d be furious. Wait, no, that’s wrong, he wouldn’t be furious. It’s just that it would be unthinkable for him.” In the book, he takes care to capture as well many of the quieter, less dramatic, sillier moments that defined the experience for him. David’s insistence, when the paramedics wheeled him away, that Coles remember to bring his sewing, not his knitting, to the hospital. Those squeamishness selfies he took with Strictly fans in A&E (“Do us a twirl, Rev!”) and, later, the cheerless McDonald’s breakfasts and Costa coffees consumed while waiting on the ward. He had an incongruous conversation about, of all things, the Liverpool manager Jürgen Klopp with an administrator while he was registering David’s death.

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Depression has been a constant companion for Coles. “I’ve never felt as desolate as I felt then,” he says. “But you look around the world sometimes and wonder why you wouldn’t be depressed. But there’s so much to not be depressed about too.” Asked what David was like, Coles says his partner brought out the best in him. “I have to be right, and think things through, and work out my position,” says Coles.

Again, I feel spoiled, having read such a wonderful piece of art. As I read the book, the words seemed to melt into my mind and put me in the place as Jane. The author somehow can put himself in the place of Jane, as well... even as a 16 year old girl. He can, seemingly magically, grasp the most inward feelings of all the characters and lead you through a maze of grief, surprise, unrest, fright, and happiness. Add into the story that Richard has 5 dachshunds (I have one) and I just couldn't help drawing an affinity for his journey. I was ultimately left feeling very touched, and not quite alone. David had bought a burial plot long before his death – and one for a bemused Coles. “He came home one day, and he said: ‘I’ve bought our graves.’ I said: ‘Why did you do that?’ He said: ‘It’s a northern thing.’”Much about grief surprised him: the volume of 'sadmin' you have to do when someone dies, how much harder it is travelling for work alone, even the pain of typing a text message to your partner - then realising you are alone. Whether it is pastoral care for the bereaved, discussions about the afterlife with parishioners or being called out to perform the last rites, death is part of the Reverend Richard Coles' routine. But since his partner the Reverend David Coles died in December, much about death has taken Coles by surprise. David's death at the age of 42 was unexpected - he never recovered from an operation for internal bleeding. The couple became civil partners in 2011. “He said that if I didn’t make an honest man of him, he would go off with somebody else.”