JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings

Josephine Thomas has heard every conceivable theory about her mother’s disappearance. That she was kidnapped. Murdered. That she took on a new identity to start a new family. That she was a witch. This is the most worrying charge, because in a world where witches are real, peculiar behaviour raises suspicions and a woman – especially a Black woman – can find herself on trial for witchcraft.

But fourteen years have passed since her mother’s disappearance, and now Jo is finally ready to let go of the past. Yet her future is in doubt. The State mandates that all women marry by the age of thirty – or enrol in a registry that allows them to be monitored, effectively forfeiting their autonomy. At twenty-eight, Jo is ambivalent about marriage. With her ability to control her life on the line, she feels as if she has her never understood her mother more. When she’s offered the opportunity to honour one last request from her mother’s will, Jo leaves her regular life to feel connected to her one last time.

Megan Giddings’ The Women Could Fly follows twenty-seven-year-old Josephine Thomas, whose mother disappeared fourteen years earlier. Under suspicion of witchcraft, her disappearance caused irreparable damage for Josephine and her father. Naturally, people suspect Jo of being a witch too.

Jo and her father, after fourteen years, decide to accept that Jo’s mother is dead. They mourn her, grieve her. Jo reflects over her mother’s belongings in an attempt to gain closure for her mother’s decision to disappear. Her mother’s will, updated and read, stipulates that if Jo travels to an island in Lake Superior, on a specific day, she would receive a substantial inheritance. Jo decides to honour her mother’s wish and what she finds on that island challenges everything she thought she knew about her family.

“After my mother’s disappearance, the usual protocols happened. While the police quietly investigated my dad, I was taken away by the Bureau of Witchcraft to be questioned. A woman who can vanish might not be in danger, instead, she might be a danger to everyone. And if you’re the daughter of a witch?”

If magic were real and available largely to only women, of course men would try to control it – control those with the power to wield the magic. Once a woman turns 28, she must register with the state and be subjected to regular tests designed to uncover witches. Marriage with a man ensures protection, and thus is Jo’s best chance at remaining undetected.

The Women Could Fly explores magic and family, but also patriarchy and power – control over those we do not understand, and unwillingness to try and understand them. This is a multi-layered novel, and Jo’s POV allows for a nuanced, deep understanding of the world around her and how unsafe she feels as a black woman with a witch for a mother.

“I was so tired of people suspecting me, so tired of always having to follow arbitrary rules. How could I live the rest of my life like this? I was almost twenty-eight and exhausted already. I reminded myself that throughout history women had endured far worse things.”

Megan’s writing is raw, sleek and observant. She captures so much with such few words, and set within a world where women must marry by 30, The Women Could Fly feels like a modern-day The Handmaid’s Tale. What she encapsulates within 270 pages allows for a reflective reading experience that sits with the reader.

“He shared food the way I liked to share food, by gingerly cutting off a piece for the other person and putting it on a appetizer plate. He asked me questions. We held hands under the table. I realized we had never done that before.”

Recommended for literary readers, and those interested in books tackling social commentary and power. Readership skews 30+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Women Could Fly
Megan Giddings
August 2022
Pan Macmillan Publishers

Everything Feels Like the End of the World by Else Fitzgerald

Each story is anchored, at its heart, in what it means to be human: grief, loss, pain and love. A young woman is faced with a difficult choice about her pregnancy in a community ravaged by doubt. An engineer working on a solar shield protecting the Earth shares memories of their lover with an AI companion. Two archivists must decide what is worth saving when the world is flooded by rising sea levels. In a heavily policed state that preferences the human and punishes the different, a mother gives herself up to save her transgenic child.

These transformative stories are both epic and granular, and forever astonishing in their imaginative detail, sense of revelation and emotional connection. They herald the arrival of a stunning new voice.

Else Fitzgerald’s short story collection Everything Feels Like the End of the World is a series of compact speculative fiction tales exploring possible futures in Australia – some settings don’t seem too far removed from our present life, but others are vastly different and set thousands of years into an unrecognisable future.

God, I really appreciated the brevity of some of these stories – at just 250 pages, this book has thirty-seven stories and they’re all just as rich and engrossing as each other. Jumping through different stories at quite a fast pace is actually a really refreshing read, so many short story collections have substantial (and therefore few in number) stories, and as a result, the pacing can lull a little in the middle. I loved the structure of this book and the order of the stories, which worked together cohesively across the course of the book.

“Out over the edge of the rooftop the reddish sun is sinking, its brightness so reduced from the smoke that you can stare right at it without hurting your eyes. At the far end of the roof garden shared by all the residents of the building, white sheets on the clotheslines flap in the smoky breeze – surrender of defiance, you’re not sure.”

Else’s specificity, particularly her observations of people and places – of interactions, feelings, and memories – are gems in the story, and one of the strengths of the collection. Her stories show you don’t need to use a lot of words to convey something beautiful or poignant. There is a strong personal undertone to the book, like we’re getting a strong sense of Else not just as a writer but as a person.

Each story explores elements of humanity and what it means to be alive, even when the world is ending – ie. even during times of disaster, we can still feel love and connection, nurture, all the while experiencing heightened levels of grief, heartache, and loss.

I also freakin’ love the cover of this book – the colours and the tone, as well as the title, make for a really beautiful addition to the bookshelf.

“His voice is tender but careful. Before the phone call to tell him what had happened, and to ask if we could come, we hadn’t spoken in a long while. My body trembles, the horror of the past few weeks seeping over the walls I’ve built inside me.”

With each story moving forward in time, we experience the haunting progression of climate degradation and the ramifications of a changing world, sometimes through the smallest of lenses. It’s a clever stylistic technique to keep the reader feeling both unprepared and alarmed as we progress through the future to alternate worlds not overly different to our own.

“The walk down to the town centre only takes ten minutes. It’s midwinter and tourism still hasn’t recovered from the pandemic years, so the place is empty. The pub is closed, but looking over the fence from the street they glimpse a view of the water through the vast beer garden.”

Else’s short story collection is an accessible read for reluctant readers, and perfect for those with only short spans of time to read. With vivid characters and engaging settings, readers will love this book. Readership skews 20+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

Everything Feels Like the End of the World
Else Fitzgerald
August 2022
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

Divergent, by Veronica Roth

I should really review Divergent and The Hunger Games in the same post, because of all the similarities. They’re both dystopian, and the main character in both novels is a feisty female who must learn to survive in an environment full of people trying to kill her.

I read Divergent on a plane from Sydney to Brisbane. I bought it just to read at the start and end of the plane trip when you’re not allowed to listen to music because you have to “switch off all electronic devices”. I ended up reading it the entire trip and then finishing it when I got home.

The premise is at first confusing: futuristic, post-apocalyptic Chicago is separated into different factions (similar to the districts in The Hunger Games). These factions are Abnegation, Amity, Candor, Erudite, and Dauntless. Beatrice Prior grew up in Abnegation, the faction known for being selfless. However, in the year she turns 16, she – and all the other 16 year olds in Chicago – can choose if they want to change. Beatrice changes to Dauntless, and becomes Tris.

She is thrust into a violent faction filled with deceit, lies, murder, and brutality. She is trained to be a fighter and defender of the city, and those who fall behind from the group are cast aside and deemed factionless.

The novel has an intriguing premise, but the first fourth of the novel is a little confusing and Roth doesn’t quite explain the setting well enough for the reader to picture it. The main character is refreshingly feisty and learns how to survive. The book has a strong romantic element that I think is missing from The Hunger Games. Tris is independent and relatable, and Roth’s writing is strong. The pace moves quickly and she’s created three dimensional characters.

My Score: 8/10

 

Nineteen Eighty-Four, by George Orwell

Because I’m studying Nineteen Eighty-Four for my Honours thesis, I’ve analysed it so much that I can’t actually remember what I initially thought of the novel. I remember reading the ending a few times, because I worried that I wasn’t fully grasping its significance. And then, I remember everyone frowning at me when I told them that this was the first time I’d ever read Nineteen Eighty-Four.

“You haven’t read 1984 before? Where did you go to school, the North Pole?”
Or
“You’re a writer, and yet you haven’t read 1984?”

It’s a thicker book, and it’s not an ‘I’ll just read a few pages before bed’ type of novel. It’s an ‘I’m feeling intellectual today and would like some stimulating material’ type of novel; you need to allocate a chunk of time in order to do it justice.

This dystopian novel was written by George Orwell on his death bed in 1948, and is set in the futuristic 1984. The protagonist, Winston Smith, inwardly defies the oppressive state, led by Big Brother. Winston buys a diary so that he can secretly express free will and thought, and starts an affair with Julia, a woman who works in his building. The novel is rife with irony and internal conflict, and Winston is presented as a fractured but defiant character.

This novel is faultless. The characters are fleshed out, and the development of the storyline is gradual, but needed. The final third of the novel – I won’t ruin it for anyone else who went to school in the North Pole – is powerful, in a way that the reader feels they haven’t quite grasped the meaning of it, yet they know they have. You feel like you have to re-read the novel a few times before you feel that you understand it. Nevertheless, if you have the time to read it, I highly recommend it.

My Score: 10/10
The Next Novel on my List? Hamlet by William Shakespeare.

Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury

I’ve been meaning to read Fahrenheit 451 for a while now, but never got around to it because of the hundreds of other books that I’ve been meaning to read. And truthfully, I finished reading it about three weeks ago, but have only now found the time to sit down and write this review.

I was thinking of studying it for my Honours degree, and I used that as an opportunity to read it. Now that I’ve read it, I’m not actually going to be studying it, but at least I can cross the novel off my list (I don’t actually have a list – who has time to write one?).

You’re probably noticing a pattern. My last review was a dystopian novel as well; that’s because I am a dystopian fiction writer. Or, a speculative fiction writer, but they really mean the same thing. Regardless, I read a lot of dystopian fiction (Margaret Atwood will probably feature a lot on this blog).

Set in a futuristic world, Guy Montag is a fireman, and in this dystopian setting, firemen actually start fires, instead of putting them out. That is, they’ll burn down houses if the person living inside owns outlawed books. Guy doesn’t doubt his job, but when he meets new neighbour, free-spirited Clarisse, and then a woman willingly burns herself alive in her own home (with her beloved books), Guy starts to second-guess his morals. And so Guy starts to hide books in his house, and read them aloud to his wife. And then he gets caught, and murders his boss, and then is on the run.

This novel is not too long, so for all those ‘I don’t read’ people, you have no excuse. Even though I’m not using this novel for my Honours thesis, I’d thoroughly recommend it.

My Score: 8/10
The Next Novel on my List? 1984 by George Orwell