It is typical of Lucy, ever-generous, that proceeds from the sale of Raise The Roof are going to support her friends Leela and Jamie, who, she says in her preface, have stuck with her through thick and thin, and whose home burned down earlier this year.
Raise The Roof is the book of the show. Lucy is the Naked Dietician and I first saw her performance in its entirety in Edinburgh, on the Fringe. I've kept my ticket from that day as a souvenir.
I want to remember that performance because it was brave and bold: in fact, it was incendiary. Lucy's monologue is a weaving of stories of injustice, of heartbreak and oppression, into something that's alight with energy and hope. Always serious, she plays with words in a way that's clear with enjoyment and raises some chuckles amidst the intensity.
for right now I am on fire gut-busting for an exodus from stasis
so almighty it incites the gods in each of us to hurl up everything
they worship sacred secular profane inflame a new way
of doing being praying grieving growing speaking thinking longing
loving listening fucking that does justice justice
It's impossible to hear the density of Lucy's text and absorb it in one sitting. Hearing it again, I realised it's impossible to hear the density of Lucy's text and absorb it in two sittings, but it was definitely an advantage to hear it twice. And buying the book for a longer look makes sense.
On Sunday, the audience was focused and able to hear each word, each lift of hope and ecstasy, each plunge into despair and pain. Lucy's command of her words, her amazing memory for them, left us free to soak, washed over by wave upon wave of a searing yet playful narrative which includes the deeply personal references to self-harm and discrimination, and the deeply political longing for injustice to be brought out into the clear light of day, seen for what it is.