2018: Year in Review

Another year down, full of much less reading but still some interesting books. I don't have quite the heart to abandon my faithful blog completely, even though I managed only one review this year--my lowest participation since I began. Not surprisingly, this slump came after returning to work following my maternity leave with my second daughter. As I said after my first daughter was born, while I can work or parent, doing both at once leaves little room for anything beyond the absolute basics.

Books read in 2018:
A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle (Feb)
The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up by Marie Kondo (Feb)
You Will Know Me by Megan Abbott (Apr)
All Our Wrong Todays by Elan Mastai (May)
The Four Tendencies by Gretchen Rubin (June)
Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer (June)
The Power by Naomi Alderman (June)
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote (July)
Disobedience by Naomi Alderman (Sept)
The Ethical Slut by Dossie Easton and Janet Hardy (Oct)
The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin (Oct)
Exit West by Mohsid Hamid (Nov)
Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan (Dec)

Thirteen is not too bad, all things considered. Most were read for my book club, but I managed a few on my own too. Exit West probably tops my list--Hamid has beautiful, sparse prose, and a gentle approach to describing the natural ebb and flow of any relationship. The novel's focus on immigration is intensely topical, but its depiction of individual growth and its impact on relationships is timeless.
Alderman's dystopia The Power sparked the best discussion. In our #metoo era, it was also incredibly topical, and it posed a lot of questions about the nature of relationships between men and women and the path towards equality.

N.K. Jemisin continues to do no wrong for me. Every time I pick up one of her books I assume it's going to be cliche and stilted fantasy, and yet every time I'm impressed with storytelling rich in worldbuilding, characterization, and prose.

I read a number of nonfiction books, which is somewhat unusual. Rubin's The Four Tendencies surprised me by being more insightful and helpful than I would have thought. Not shockingly, I'm an "upholder," but the book gave insight into why my tendency can interfere with my relationships, and learning about my husband's "obliger" ways was also useful in understanding his behavior.

Like so many others, Kondo worked her magic on me, and I did a full Kondo-purge of my wardrobe. Almost a year later I've maintained her folding and near-empty closet style. I don't think I have the fortitude for a whole-house purge, but she has helped me to part with things I know I don't want. I'm now apt to throw a junky plastic toy immediately in the trash, and I have a large donation bag in my bedroom into which I throw any item I no longer want (I mean, that doesn't give me joy!).

If I can manage an average of a book a month again next year, I'll be pleased. Happy 2018, and here's to the year ahead!

"The Power" by Naomi Alderman

Naomi Alderman’s The Power came at just the right moment. As #metoo is heard everywhere, Alderman’s novel posits a world where women’s physical strength suddenly surpasses--greatly surpasses--that of men. Her novel explores what would happen to our understanding of men and women if women could physically dominate.

The crux is, of course, whether men and women are biologically different, or if any difference stems from men’s greater physical strength and sexist socialization. Alderman’s answer appears to be simple: if women had the physical advantage, women would become “men,” and men would become “women.” It’s the simplicity of her response that both bothers me and is somewhat intriguing. In her speculation, absolute power does corrupt absolutely, and once women are given that opportunity, they dominate and destroy men as savagely as the worst male oppressors and tyrants.

Now, presumably there are some women who wouldn’t act this way (just as there are many men in history and modern times who treat women with respect). And in fact, the female protagonists of the story aren’t real villains. But, as the novel doesn’t follow any “ordinary” women who gain power, we don’t see typical married couples, for example, trying to navigate a relationship anew once one person’s position has changed.

Instead, the novel follows only the people with the most outsized influence on the changing world. There’s Allie, who becomes the spiritual cult leader Mother Eve; Roxy, a gangster’s daughter who takes on the family business; Margot, a politician with increasing aspirations; and Tunde, a journalist covering the uprisings in less developed areas of the world and the only male narrator.

The the three female narrators have largely negative relationships with men, so it’s not surprising when they use their power to take control from men. But, again, I wanted to also learn what would happen to women who had power but had had largely positive relationships with men.

Allie, who of anyone has the most influence on the changing world, felt undeveloped as a character. She’d had a rough upbringing, but becoming a cult leader overnight? Roxy made the most sense in terms of her character arc, and her end-of-the-novel connection with Tunde worked more for me than I would have thought.

One of the most interesting elements of the novel was Alderman’s take on physical strength and its connection to sex. Women’s newfound power almost immediately takes a role in sexual relationships, both as a tool for pleasure and torture. The graphic scenes of women raping men were grotesque and difficult to read.

The book was surprisingly violent and gory, perhaps done so to emphasize that any depiction of women as docile, sweet, or passive is socially structured rather than innate.

Ultimately The Power wasn’t quite what I was hoping to read, but in defying my expectations, it perhaps gave me more to think about.