Mark: A study in Science magazine found that many people would rather give themselves a mild electric shock than sit alone with their thoughts for just fifteen minutes. Michelle: Wow. An actual electric shock? That’s... bleak. It says a lot about how terrified we are of our own company. Mark: It’s a deep-seated fear. But what if that fear is the biggest lie we've been told about ourselves? That very question is at the heart of The Art of Living Alone by Jane Mathews. Michelle: I’m so glad we’re talking about this book. It feels incredibly relevant. Mark: It is. Mathews wrote it after her own divorce, when she was suddenly thrust into solo living. She felt completely unprepared and realized millions of others, especially women, were in the same boat. It’s a very personal book, born from her own transformation. Michelle: And it’s not a niche issue anymore, is it? I read that solo dwellers are the fastest-growing housing demographic in Australia, the US, and much of Europe. This isn't just a self-help guide; it’s a response to a massive social shift. Mark: Exactly. Mathews argues the first battle isn't with the empty house or the silent phone. It's with the stories we tell ourselves in our own heads.

Michelle: Okay, I like that. The battle is internal. But what does that mean in practice? How do you fight an enemy that, as the book says, has outposts in your head? Mark: Mathews starts by showing us how easily we accept negative labels. She tells this hilarious and brilliant story from her childhood about her "witchy toe." Michelle: Her what now? Mark: Her witchy toe. Her older sister convinced her that because her third toe was longer than her second, it was a sign she was a witch. And as a little kid, she just… believed it. She ran crying to her mother, completely accepting this absurd, made-up flaw. Michelle: Oh, I love that. It’s so childishly relatable. And I see the point. We do that as adults, don't we? We accept these societal labels—like "spinster" or "lonely cat lady"—without ever questioning if they're as ridiculous as a witchy toe. Mark: Precisely. We internalize the idea that living alone is a sign of failure or sadness. Mathews wants us to see that label for what it is: a silly story someone else made up. To really drive this home, she puts our own feelings of loneliness into a stark perspective with the story of Hanako. Michelle: Who was Hanako? Mark: Hanako was an elephant, a gift from Thailand to Japan after World War II. She was two years old. She was put in a small concrete enclosure in a Tokyo zoo and for the next 67 years, she never saw another elephant again. Michelle: Oh, that’s heartbreaking. 67 years. Mark: She became known as "The loneliest elephant in the world." And Mathews uses this to say, look, your feelings of loneliness are valid, but when you feel that pang on a Saturday night, remember Hanako. You have friends you can call. You can walk outside. You have a universe of connection she never had. It’s a powerful tool for perspective. Michelle: That is powerful. But I have to push back a little. It’s one thing to have perspective, but loneliness is still a real, physical pain for many people. You can't just 'think' it away entirely, can you? Mark: You can't. And Mathews doesn't suggest you can. What she does is introduce a crucial distinction, one that theologian Paul Tillich famously wrote about. He said our language wisely created two words: "loneliness" to express the pain of being alone, and "solitude" to express the glory of being alone. Michelle: Loneliness versus solitude. I see. So it’s about reframing the experience. Mark: It’s about transforming it. Loneliness is a feeling of lack. Solitude is a feeling of wholeness. It's a choice. It's a skill. Mathews says living alone well is like learning a language—it takes effort, but it isn't difficult. She suggests finding "totems" or mental symbols of strength. Michelle: Like what kind of totems? Mark: She gives a few powerful examples. Think of the bison that, instead of running from a snowstorm, turns and walks directly into it, knowing it's the fastest way through. Or the Assyrian Lioness relief in the British Museum—a lioness pierced with arrows, but still roaring, still fighting. These are images to call on when you feel overwhelmed. They are mental tools to build that muscle of solitude. Michelle: I like that. It’s not about pretending the storm isn’t there; it’s about turning to face it. So once you've started that mental shift, what's next? You can't just sit in your glorious solitude and not pay the rent. Mark: Exactly. And that brings us to the practical core of the book.

Michelle: So once you've got the mindset, you have to actually build the life. It's one thing to feel good about being alone, it's another to deal with the bills and the cooking. How does Mathews tackle the practical side? Mark: She frames it as becoming the CEO of your own life. You are in charge of every department: Finance, Health, Home, Nutrition. And it starts with a radical act of self-respect. She tells the story of the Roman general Lucullus, who was famous for his lavish banquets. Michelle: Okay, I’m listening. Mark: One night, he was dining alone, and his steward served him a simple, mediocre meal. Lucullus was furious. He called the steward and demanded to know why the meal was so plain. The steward replied, "But sir, you have no guests tonight." And Lucullus famously retorted, "What? Did you not know that tonight, Lucullus dines with Lucullus?" Michelle: Oh, I love that! "Lucullus dines with Lucullus." That’s a powerful idea. The effort you put into cooking for yourself is a direct measure of your self-worth. It’s not about being fancy, it's about believing you are worthy of the effort. Mark: Exactly. It's an antidote to the "it's not worth the bother" mentality. And this philosophy extends directly to the scariest department for many people: finance. Mathews is brutally honest about her own past. She admits she was completely financially ignorant in her marriage. Her father handled the money, then her husband did. She never even thought about it. Michelle: That’s a story many women from that generation can relate to. Mark: When she got divorced, it was a terrifying wake-up call. She had to learn everything from scratch. She uses her own painful journey to create a 12-step "Financial Blueprint" for readers. It’s about taking control, understanding your money, and never, ever relinquishing that power again. Michelle: This is where some of the criticism of the book comes in, though. Some readers feel it reflects a certain level of privilege. The idea of "curating your life" or dining like Lucullus can sound expensive. What about the very real "singles penalty"—the fact that it just costs more to live alone? Mark: That's a fair and important critique. The book is definitely aimed at a middle-class audience. But Mathews' core point on finance isn't about being wealthy; it's about being literate and in control. She’s not saying everyone can afford lavish meals. She's saying everyone must know where their money is going. And the urgency is real. She quotes a devastating statistic: in the first year after a divorce, a woman's standard of living drops, on average, by 73%. Michelle: Seventy-three percent. That’s staggering. That puts the need for a "Financial Blueprint" in a much starker light. It’s not a lifestyle choice; it’s a survival tool. Mark: It’s the foundation of independence. And that independence, paradoxically, is what allows for the final, and perhaps most surprising, part of the art of living alone.

Mark: This idea of self-reliance leads to a huge paradox in the book. You'd think it's all about becoming a fortress of one, but Mathews argues the opposite. True independence is what allows you to form better, healthier connections with others. Michelle: How so? Because you're not connecting out of neediness or desperation? Mark: Precisely. You're connecting from a place of strength and choice. She shares a very vulnerable story about her first few birthdays after her divorce. One year, nobody remembered. Not her kids, not her friends. She was so desperate to hear the words "Happy Birthday" that she went to shops and told the cashiers it was her birthday, just to get a response. Michelle: Oh, that’s so raw. I think anyone who has lived alone has had a moment like that, where you feel completely invisible. Mark: It’s a gut punch. But she didn't stay there. She decided to take control. Now, she has a two-pronged birthday plan. First, she takes herself on a "treat day"—a spa treatment, a movie, she buys herself flowers and a gift. Second, she hosts a dinner for her friends and tells them, "This is my birthday celebration." She orchestrates her own joy. Michelle: That’s a huge shift. From passively waiting for acknowledgment to actively creating it. I love the contrast with another story she tells, about the dog show. Mark: Yes! The "Sherlock Bones" story. She wanted to meet more people in her neighborhood, so she entered her Airedale terrier, Rory, in the local dog show. She made him a Sherlock Holmes costume, he won the fancy-dress category, and she ended up connecting with the woman who sponsored the prize. It’s a simple, funny story, but the message is profound: you have to go to them sometimes. You can't wait in your corner of the forest. Michelle: It’s so true. We see so many people who are "lonely in a crowd" or trapped in unhappy relationships. It's fascinating that the book cites research suggesting only about a quarter of married Australians describe their marriages as happy. Mark: It’s one of the book's most radical points. Marilyn Monroe is quoted saying, "It's far better to be unhappy alone than unhappy with someone." Mathews builds on that, arguing that a fulfilling solo life isn't a consolation prize. For many, it's the grand prize. It’s the freedom to be authentically yourself.

Michelle: So when you put it all together, the art of living alone isn't really about isolation at all. It's about building a strong enough core within yourself—mentally, practically, financially—that you can then connect with the world on your own terms, not out of neediness. Mark: Exactly. The book's ultimate message is about shifting from 'living by yourself' to 'living with yourself.' It’s about becoming your own best company. Mathews’ challenge to the reader is to ask, 'What is one small thing I can do for myself today?' Michelle: Not for your boss, not for your kids, not for your partner, but just for you. Mark: Yes. Whether it's cooking a real meal like Lucullus, facing a fear like the bison, or just sitting in silence for five minutes without reaching for your phone and the electric shock of distraction. Michelle: I really like that as a takeaway. It’s simple and actionable. We'd love to hear what our listeners think. What's your 'art of living alone'? Do you have a ritual or a totem that helps you? Share your thoughts with the Aibrary community on our social channels. Mark: It’s a conversation worth having. Because ultimately, this isn't just for people who live alone. It's for anyone who wants to be more comfortable in their own skin. Michelle: A skill we could all use. Mark: This is Aibrary, signing off.