'I had not given a moment's thought to the existence of female boxers, because I did not like boxing. I dislike violence. Nevertheless, the first time ever I threw a punch, I was hooked.' Boxing is something women are not supposed to do: a violent and often bloody pastime whose status as a sport is frequently debated. And when, in recent years, women have begun to box professionally, their contests have - sometimes all too justifiably - been seen as freak-shows. But in this remarkable book, for the first time, a woman explains, with eloquence, wit and honesty, how and why she took up boxing. An English journalist who had sung in a punk-rock band and eventually settled in New York, Kate Sekules didn't climb into the boxing ring for the money, or in pursuit of fame. She did it for complicated reasons that, even after two professional fights, still perplex her. Boxing, as a woman, challenged the stereotype of the fragile, defenceless female. It gave her entry into a hitherto exclusively male world of tough camaraderie and often surprising tenderness. She learnt that what can appear to the uninitiated as two people indiscriminately hitting one another is actually the exercise of precise, geometric skills. She also found out how much it hurts to be bopped full on the nose. But above all she discovered in herself, quite simply, a need to fight: the strange, exhilarating challenge of controlled combat - of climbing through those ropes to become utterly responsible for your own fate. Opening, compulsively, in Kate's corner as she awaits the bell for round one of her first fight, The Boxer's Heart is as much a book about women as it is about sport. How come women worry so much about their weight (by which they mean fatness) when male boxers prize weight (when it means muscle)? Do women have the monopoly on tenderness, when male cornermen cherish their fighters with a maternal compassion? How does the identification of a woman with aggression affect the dynamics of a sexual relationship? Written with a journalistic immediacy, witty self-deprecation and a gritty sense of place. The Boxer's Heart is a long way from the ghosted memoirs of Jane Couch.