Community Reviews
I hate the character and I know that’s the point but I hate it in a not enjoyable way, all of them where so fucked up and even tho the curiosity to understand what was going on keep me reading I didn’t like the explanation so naaaaaa .
I feel like there must be better ways to bring to the table the topic of the unhinged and fake modern “trad wife”
I feel like there must be better ways to bring to the table the topic of the unhinged and fake modern “trad wife”
This book didn't just miss the point for me—it backed over it, put it in reverse, and ran over it again for good measure.
I went in expecting a sharp feminist satire about gender roles, social media culture, and the fantasy of the trad-wife lifestyle. Instead, I got what felt like a 400-page public execution of one very specific kind of woman.
Natalie isn't written as a person. She's written as a caricature. Actually, scratch that. Every character in this book is a caricature. The difference is that Natalie is the only one the narrative seems determined to punish.
The book repeatedly tells us she's terrible, and then spends the rest of the story proving it with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Meanwhile, other female characters who are just as cruel, hateful, manipulative, or insufferable are treated as enlightened truth-tellers because they're on the "correct" side of the argument. The “Angry Women” are vicious. Shannon is awful. Reena, her roommate, is awful. Half the characters behave like cartoon villains. Yet readers are clearly expected to cheer for them while booing Natalie.
That's when I realized this story wasn't making me think. It was making me mad.
What really pushed me over the edge was the complete lack of proportional justice. Natalie receives thirty years of punishment while her husband—who cheats on her, uses her, drugs her, physically and emotionally abuses her, gaslights her, and participates in child abuse—somehow escapes carrying the same narrative weight. Apparently we're supposed to be furious at Natalie while shrugging at the man committing crimes alongside her, and Shannon, the producer who set her up specifically to destroy her, vilified her, blatantly lied about her, and was rewarded by the media and monetarily by the lawyers.
Interesting definition of justice.
The book claims to explore how society hates women, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it only hates certain women. Specifically women who don't fit the author's preferred worldview. The satire isn't aimed in all directions; it's aimed squarely at one target.
By the end, I wasn't challenged. I wasn't enlightened. I was just annoyed.
If the goal was to make me root for Natalie's downfall, it missed the mark. The book spent so much time trying to convince me she deserved it that I ended up rooting against the book instead.
I went in expecting a sharp feminist satire about gender roles, social media culture, and the fantasy of the trad-wife lifestyle. Instead, I got what felt like a 400-page public execution of one very specific kind of woman.
Natalie isn't written as a person. She's written as a caricature. Actually, scratch that. Every character in this book is a caricature. The difference is that Natalie is the only one the narrative seems determined to punish.
The book repeatedly tells us she's terrible, and then spends the rest of the story proving it with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Meanwhile, other female characters who are just as cruel, hateful, manipulative, or insufferable are treated as enlightened truth-tellers because they're on the "correct" side of the argument. The “Angry Women” are vicious. Shannon is awful. Reena, her roommate, is awful. Half the characters behave like cartoon villains. Yet readers are clearly expected to cheer for them while booing Natalie.
That's when I realized this story wasn't making me think. It was making me mad.
What really pushed me over the edge was the complete lack of proportional justice. Natalie receives thirty years of punishment while her husband—who cheats on her, uses her, drugs her, physically and emotionally abuses her, gaslights her, and participates in child abuse—somehow escapes carrying the same narrative weight. Apparently we're supposed to be furious at Natalie while shrugging at the man committing crimes alongside her, and Shannon, the producer who set her up specifically to destroy her, vilified her, blatantly lied about her, and was rewarded by the media and monetarily by the lawyers.
Interesting definition of justice.
The book claims to explore how society hates women, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it only hates certain women. Specifically women who don't fit the author's preferred worldview. The satire isn't aimed in all directions; it's aimed squarely at one target.
By the end, I wasn't challenged. I wasn't enlightened. I was just annoyed.
If the goal was to make me root for Natalie's downfall, it missed the mark. The book spent so much time trying to convince me she deserved it that I ended up rooting against the book instead.
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