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There have been some absolutely amazing novels published recently reflecting the fear of the current political and social climate continuing and the potential disastrous effect it could (continue to) have on the lives of women. Louise Erdrich's Future Home of the Living God (2018) is my favorite - it begins with a road trip by an adopted daughter to visit her birth mother, an Ojibwe woman who lives on a nearby reservation. Cedar's adoptive mother and father are anxious as she leaves because there is a "a new kind of virus. Maybe bacteria. From the permafrost. Use hand sanitizer." Cedar is pregnant, and ostensibly visits her birth mother to ask about inheritable diseases. What Erdrich teases out in those first few pages about a possible virus eventually becomes an excuse to police women's bodies. Within the larger global drama she's created exists a beautiful story about the love this family has for each other. And within that narrative is the protective instinct Cedar has for her developing child, with not-so-subtle allusions to a newborn Christ. Which had me thinking, isn't it a natural reaction to consider that the child you bear might be the savior of the world? Listen, I get very *eyeroll* over pregnancy stories, but Future Home of the Living God had me ALL IN. I've only read two of Erdrich's books but she's quickly becoming My Favorite Author Of All Time.
Last year I saw Margaret Atwood speak and she hyped The Water Cure by Sophie Mackintosh (and also, coincidentally, hinted at a big announcement to come which ended up being The Handmaid's Tale: Part Deux, which I now realize was painfully obvious). I wanted that book so bad I ordered a British copy. Three girls live with their mother and father on an island and women visit to experience the water cure, administered by their parents. The girls are under the impression that the outside world is a lawless, dangerous place for women and therefore they've created this extreme but safe oasis for them. The parent's solution, and how it further breeds mistrust between women, was a striking example of how isolation isn't the answer to the world's problems. (Hello, Mike Pence.)
Christina Dalcher's Vox is perhaps the most infuriating (in a good way?) of the recent batch of dystopian novels. In it, all women, even young girls, are required to wear a bracelet that provides an increasingly painful electric shock every time they speak over 100 words in 24 hours. What really struck me was how the main character's daughter never came near her 100 words and easily adapted to this new paradigm, simply by the socialization of those around her. It made me bristle to remember every time that I had been told that I talk too much, that I was better seen and not heard, that I was too loud, to forceful, and every argument I've ever heard that women aren't suited for certain positions and roles due to nature or religious conventions. (Reminder: It is commonly perceived that women speak much more than men - we don't.) . So, if you like being filled with RIGHTEOUS and FURIOUS ANGER, you should definitely read Vox (seriously, you really should.)
Sarah Pinborough’s Cross Her Heart is so full of twists and turns it got me thinking about the modern novel, post-Gone Girl, and the role of the Unexpected Twist. First, it dawned on me that the “twist” actually existed BEFORE Gone Girl, it just wasn’t called a “twist.” I mean, wouldn’t a nineteenth century reader be absolutely shocked to discover that, just as Jane was about to marry Mr. Rochester, she finds out his WIFE is living in the attic of the damn house she’s been living in. THEN, when she hears his voice one night, goes back to Thornfield mansion to find the damn place burned down, Rochester’s wife lept off the fucking ROOF and he’s blind and only has one functional hand. That’s ALMOST as nuts as Amy framing her boring husband for her own murder, then double-framing her ex-boyfriend instead, and then getting herself pregnant with some sperm she hid in the freezer JUST IN CASE this whole scheme went to shit.
Secondly, I am getting tired of books with crazy twists, although I almost always have to doff my hat to those that do it well, as Pinborough does. I like reading mysteries, and it often it feels like mysteries are written in a formulaic way, with twists, with “girl” in the title, and ladies being raped and murdered on the page for reading pleasure (concerning all these conceits - see this whole crazy story re: AJ Finn and The Woman in the Window).
Anyway, to summarize Cross Her Heart would be too difficult without giving much away, aside from saying that it’s a captivating read, and I had a good time apprising M for a few days at the multiple twists and turns it made (namely re: some missing girls on vacation in Thailand and a concerned journalist.)
There have been some absolutely amazing novels published recently reflecting the fear of the current political and social climate continuing and the potential disastrous effect it could (continue to) have on the lives of women. Louise Erdrich's Future Home of the Living God (2018) is my favorite - it begins with a road trip by an adopted daughter to visit her birth mother, an Ojibwe woman who lives on a nearby reservation. Cedar's adoptive mother and father are anxious as she leaves because there is a "a new kind of virus. Maybe bacteria. From the permafrost. Use hand sanitizer." Cedar is pregnant, and ostensibly visits her birth mother to ask about inheritable diseases. What Erdrich teases out in those first few pages about a possible virus eventually becomes an excuse to police women's bodies. Within the larger global drama she's created exists a beautiful story about the love this family has for each other. And within that narrative is the protective instinct Cedar has for her developing child, with not-so-subtle allusions to a newborn Christ. Which had me thinking, isn't it a natural reaction to consider that the child you bear might be the savior of the world? Listen, I get very *eyeroll* over pregnancy stories, but Future Home of the Living God had me ALL IN. I've only read two of Erdrich's books but she's quickly becoming My Favorite Author Of All Time. 
Last year I saw Margaret Atwood speak and she hyped The Water Cure by Sophie Mackintosh (and also, coincidentally, hinted at a big announcement to come which ended up being The Handmaid's Tale: Part Deux, which I now realize was painfully obvious). I wanted that book so bad I ordered a British copy. Three girls live with their mother and father on an island and women visit to experience the water cure, administered by their parents. The girls are under the impression that the outside world is a lawless, dangerous place for women and therefore they've created this extreme but safe oasis for them. The parent's solution, and how it further breeds mistrust between women, was a striking example of how isolation isn't the answer to the world's problems. (Hello, Mike Pence.) 
Christina Dalcher's Vox is perhaps the most infuriating (in a good way?) of the recent batch of dystopian novels. In it, all women, even young girls, are required to wear a bracelet that provides an increasingly painful electric shock every time they speak over 100 words in 24 hours. What really struck me was how the main character's daughter never came near her 100 words and easily adapted to this new paradigm, simply by the socialization of those around her. It made me bristle to remember every time that I had been told that I talk too much, that I was better seen and not heard, that I was too loud, to forceful, and every argument I've ever heard that women aren't suited for certain positions and roles due to nature or religious conventions. (Reminder: It is commonly perceived that women speak much more than men - we don't.) . So, if you like being filled with RIGHTEOUS and FURIOUS ANGER, you should definitely read Vox (seriously, you really should.)
