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       Copyright

      The Borough Press

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       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      HarperCollinsPublishers

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      Dublin 4, Ireland

      First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

      Copyright © Lionel Shriver 2020

      Cover /illustration © Shout/Dutch uncle

      Cover design by Claire Ward © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

      Lionel Shriver asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

      A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

      This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

      Source ISBN: 9780007560813

      Ebook Edition © APRIL 2021 ISBN: 9780007560806

      Version: 2021-02-01

       Praise for The Motion of the Body Through Space:

      ‘Enjoyably abrasive … a compelling read … sardonic and elegant’

       Evening Standard

      ‘Scabrously funny … few authors can be as entertainingly problematic as Shriver’

       Guardian

      ‘With laugh-out-loud and sad moments, it’s a pinpoint-sharp novel’

       Woman & Home

      ‘Darkly funny … Shriver is so good at making wry observations about human behaviour and this is particularly witty on the dynamics between couples who have been together a long time’

       Good Housekeeping

      ‘Shriver is an exuberant novelist, fertile in ideas, robust in argument and disdainful of economy … She writes bold and fearless comedy and delights in slaughtering the sacred cows of the stupid times we live in. Few novelists now raise a laugh. Shriver does so time and again’

       ALLAN MASSIE, Scotsman

      ‘A satire on fitness zealotry with a side serving of culture-war intrigue … diverting’

       Financial Times

      ‘Mischievous Lionel Shriver takes aim at the narcissistic modern cult of exercise. When Serenata’s usually sedentary husband, Remington, takes up exercise and engages an attractive personal trainer called Bambi, the couple’s lives are turned upside down’

       The Times

       Dedication

       To Jeff—whose luxurious lassitude has spared me the plot of this novel.

       Added together and divided by two, we make a perfectly balanced person.

       Epigraph

      “The glory of suffering might be humankind’s biggest, ever-recyclable con trick.”

      —MELANIE REID, The World I Fell Out Of

      “Clearly his personal god or chi was not made for great things. A man could not rise beyond the destiny of his chi. The saying of the elders was not true—that if a man said yea his chi also affirmed. Here was a man whose chi said nay despite his own affirmation.”

      —CHINUA ACHEBE, Things Fall Apart

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

      Praise for The Motion of the Body Through Space

      Dedication

      Epigraph

      Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Afterword

       About the Author

       Also by Lionel Shriver

       About the Publisher

       ONE

      “I’ve decided to run a marathon.”

      In a second-rate sitcom, she’d have spewed coffee across her breakfast. Yet Serenata was an understated person, and between sips. “What?” Her tone was a little arch, but polite.

      “You heard me.” Back to the stove, Remington studied her with a discomfiting level gaze. “I have my eye on the race in Saratoga Springs in April.”

      She had the sense, rare in her marriage, that she should watch what she said. “This is serious. You’re not pulling my leg.”

      “Do I often make statements of intent, and then pull the rug out: just foolin’? I’m not sure how to take your disbelief as anything but an insult.”

      “My ‘disbelief’ might have something to do with the

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