Women's Prize 2020

In 2020, I followed the Women's Prize longlist (well, a fair few of them!) before the shortlist was announced at the end of April. Not pictured here is Queenie, which I also read in 2019, The Dutch House by Ann Patchett and Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell. I will continue to read the remaining shortlisters that I hadn't got round to before the winner is announced later in the year. 

And now to the individual reviews...

Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams

This was the chosen book for the first week of my (very small!) book club. I spotted Queenie on the shelf and, having also seen it featured heavily on many book reviewers' Instagram pages, it jumped out immediately. The beautiful cover certainly helps! The novel has been branded as Bridget Jones' Diary meets Americanah, and I cannot say this helped - why do reviewers always have to compare novels to others?!

When we met for our book club discussion (in Waterstone's cafe, of course), we found that we both felt very similarly about this one. The first half, maybe even the first two thirds of the book, I did not enjoy. There are some very dark themes, including a couple of pretty horrendous instances of sexual abuse, which really took me off guard. The quotes on the back of the novel compared Queenie, the protagonist, to Bridget Jones - which is seriously misleading. At times I really felt like I wanted to close it and stop reading. Not only that, but the overwhelming feeling of frustration is definitely present throughout. 

Queenie, a Jamaican-British woman, has recently split up from her long-term white boyfriend, Tom, and is suffering pretty badly. She makes many unhealthy and less-than-sensible choices, such as having unprotected sex with a string of pretty horrific men, which are a sad result of her poor mental health. Though despite the pity and sadness this evokes, the eponymous heroine is not what I would consider a likeable character, or a relatable one for that matter. I didn't become attached or particularly invested in the character, which is unusual for me as a reader, and what would normally draw from me extreme sympathy somehow didn't. 

One of the reasons for this lack of sympathy may be due to the evidence we see in a series of flashbacks Queenie has to their relationship. What she evidently doesn't realise is that she treated Tom pretty badly, and pushed him away a lot. He also did some questionable stuff, and his family were downright disgusting at times (exhibiting racist tendencies and underhand remarks, which Tom  shockingly did not defend), but Queenie never once accepted that she had also played a part in their failure with her hostility and inability to make an effort with him, which was pretty frustrating.

The string of white men Queenie decides to sleep with in order to get over Tom or fulfil her need for attention and acceptance are just all so horrendous. I'm not saying it is completely unrealistic, but for her to have such bad luck with every single man, and to be abused both physically and racially by all of them without even attempting to detach herself, is pretty hard to believe past a certain point. The author seems to pin this inability to choose a respectful and caring partner to the lack of trust Queenie has in men which began at a young age when she witnessed the abuse of her mother, and was also subjected to it herself. Somehow I just feel that the author didn't do this woman justice in how she dealt with everything that happened to her.

We also agreed that the indication that her issues at work were related to her race was not really validated in the novel. Yes, it may have played a part, but the reality is that she was pretty terrible at her job! She didn't turn up to work, was late, or spent her days chatting by the coffee machine and distracting her coworkers - if anything, she got away with a lot in not getting suspended sooner! 

The final third of this novel, and a few memorable moments throughout, did redeem it somewhat. Her friend Kyazike was a fantastically strong woman (though her overuse of "fam" and "innit" did play up to stereotypes A LOT which I was unsure about), and Darcy is just a lovely pillar of friendship and support throughout. Her Jamaican grandparents really made me laugh and were supportive of Queenie - albeit archaic in their mindset towards dealing with mental health at times - but I particularly loved the part when her grandad really cheekily embraced her decision to do something about it instead of just 'getting on with it', and stood up to her grandma. 

There were A LOT of cliche and pretty corny moments in this novel which I could have spotted a mile off (don't want to include too many spoilers here) but ultimately I quite liked the ending, despite all of this. It was a feel-good ending whilst not just conforming to the happily ever after, rather giving a quiet hope that things were moving forward in a positive way. Somewhere between a 2.5 and 3 out of five, star-rating wise - not quite what I had hoped for!

Dominicana by Angie Cruz

Angie Cruz's Dominicana is a highly accomplished book, well-deserving of the longlist accolade. The novel is set in 1965 and begins in the Dominican Republic, where fifteen-year-old Ana Cancion is proposed to by Juan Ruiz, along with the promise that she will be taken to New York City, leaving her modest countryside lifestyle behind. The USA also represents an escape route for the rest of her family, adding pressure to her decision. Despite him being twice her age, she has to say yes. So on New Year's Day, she is married to a man she barely knows and leaves her life and family behind for the rush of the big city. In contrast to the exciting and wealthy lifestyle she imagined, Ana Ruiz is now confined to a tiny apartment from which she cannot leave, oppressed by the possessiveness of Juan, who beats and accuses her. There are times when she sees glimpses of a kind and loving man, and these moments convince her to push his cruelty to the back of her mind - a true sign of a manipulative man. 

When political unrest strikes up back home, Juan has to return to the Dominican Republic to protect his family's assets, leaving Ana to fend for herself - the happiest she has ever been in New York, she starts her own small food business and takes English lessons to give herself a sense of independence and earn her own income. During her time alone, she hatches a plan to run away from her new life and return home, willing to suffer the wrath of her desperate family who cannot wait for their ticket out of the Dominican Republic and are pinning all their hopes on her. But Juan's charming and kind brother, César, convinces her to stay for a little while longer.

This was a highly enjoyable and gripping read (can you call something enjoyable when it also has disturbing content?), and a really eye-opening depiction of what it means to be an immigrant - particularly in 1960s America. Ana is a likeable and sympathetic protagonist, and the first-person narration ultimately brings you closer to her and heightens the empathy you feel for her situation (as first-person narratives tend to do). Cruz's characterisation is well-rounded and developed, and you really become invested in the relatively short character list in this novel. This is at once a triumphant, frustrating and heart-rending novel and I would highly recommend it!

Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson

I really enjoyed this one and was really rooting for it for the shortlist. It begins in 2001 in Brooklyn, with sixteen-year-old Melody, who is preparing for her ‘coming of age’ ceremony and wearing the same dress that was made for her mother years earlier. Her mother ultimately never got the chance to wear the dress as she fell pregnant at age fifteen, bringing shame to her traditional family. The story explores three generations of the same family, beginning in 1921 with her grandparents and focusing in on the Tulsa race massacre, spanning all the way to the 9/11 terror attack in New York.

Woodson tackles themes of family, identity, race, class and the meaning of parenthood, as well as sexuality. In such a short novel these themes are super poignant and hard-hitting, and this book gets you right in the feels. The narrative zooms in on different family members and although it’s a short book, you really become attached to the characters which is always a win with me - I like to really get invested in the people I’m reading about. This is such a great book and a quick read so I would highly recommend it!

Weather by Jenny Offill

Weather by Jenny Offill was not at all what I expected. The novel is short - about 200 pages - and Offill's writing definitely packs a punch. But is it a memorable book? In my opinion, not so much. I didn't dislike the book at all, in fact I rather liked it, but I'm already struggling to remember much about it despite only finishing it a couple of days ago. The protagonist is Lizzie Benson, who works as a librarian by day but is also a 'fake' shrink in her spare time. It is evident that she is overstretched and feels extremely responsible for the people around her, having taken care of her mother and addict brother for years - but this sense of duty means that she has increasingly less time to dedicate to her own husband and son. 

When Lizzie is hired by her old mentor Sylvia to answer fan mail sent in response to her podcast, she tries her best to keep everyone happy but is left increasingly mentally drained herself. She finds herself responding to listeners who are polar opposites politically, simultaneously trying to help and empathise with each, and is constantly being pulled in different directions, leaving her completely overwhelmed. Meanwhile, she is fearful about climate change (hence the title), and this only adds to the many burdens of her overly-busy life. Most of the action of this book is not actually witnessed by the reader - we only receive a second-hand commentary of events, and their implications. Offill has condensed the book into short lines and paragraphs so overall it feels extremely fleeting and somewhat dream-like. There's not much plot to the book but I think the author's intention was to comment more on how the domesticity of Lizzie's everyday life, however mundane, can still be extremely wearisome and stressful. 

The novel is choppy, sporadic and jumps around a lot, recounting snippets here and there - an unconventional structure, and not at all linear in its progression. I personally quite liked this style when reading, and can appreciate the subtlety of Offill's writing, however it's not easy to become invested in a book like this. We are given very little information about Lizzie, or the people around her for that matter, and the author leaves us to piece this together for ourselves. The pages are almost like diary entries, with jokes, anecdotes and media snippets thrown in to create a collage of her daily life. One reviewer wrote 'there is obviously a selection of things to be noted... but there are no conclusions or points to be made'. This is definitely the case as although there were moments of beauty, there was no overarching conclusion to be drawn from this book - although, I think that's quite what Offill intended.

Girl by Edna O'Brien

This novel follows a young woman named Maryam in rural Nigeria who is kidnapped by Boko Haram, a notorious terror organisation. The story is extremely harrowing and visceral, with scenes of death by stoning and gang rape - so be warned, it can be pretty upsetting at times. Maryam is chosen from the group of prisoners to be given as a prize to one of the soldiers, who she marries and quickly becomes pregnant to. The soldier, Mahmoud, confesses how he betrayed his family and due to his guilt, gives her a wedge of money to escape with. She takes her baby, whom she calls Babba, and along with her friend they make a dash for it.

I tend to read books without doing any prior research into their background or author (unless it’s by an author who I’m already familiar with). I had no idea when I began this that it was written by an Irish author, and when a friend pointed it out I struggled between my love for the book and feeling slightly uncomfortable at the writer being so far away from her protagonist with an acute lack of first-hand experience to bolster her storytelling.

Yet having finished the book and reflecting upon its contents, I also think that it’s important that an author, whatever heritage they may have, make this story known - in 2014, 276 young girls were abducted by Boko Haram. I think O’Brien has given a powerful voice to her protagonist and illuminated the horrors of very real experiences beautifully. It’s a story that needs to be heard, no matter who tells it. I was really hoping that Girl would make the shortlist!

Djinn Patrol on the Purple Line by Deepa Anappara

 Djinn Patrol on the Purple Line by Deepa Anappara is unlike anything I have ever read and was intensely moving, harrowing and creative. This novel focuses in on the extremely important issue of the vast amount of children who go missing in India, and the fact that this is often overlooked by Indian authorities. The narrator, Jai, is a nine-year-old boy living in a basti (an Indian slum) with his parents and sister, Runu. Jai loves watching Police Patrol, a detective show on TV, and wants nothing more than to be a detective himself. When a local boy, Bahadur, goes missing, Jai and his friends Pari and Faiz decide to play detectives and solve the case for themselves. They believe (correctly) that the authorities are indifferent to the incident, and that they must take matters into their own hands, beginning by searching for clues in the local bazaar. Over the course of the novel, more and more children begin to disappear and the situation becomes increasingly devastating.

Despite the title of the novel, there are not a lot of supernatural references - the 'Purple Line' is a train route which leads to Mumbai, which the three friends believe is the direction in which the missing children have 'run away' from home. I learned that a djinn is a type of spirit that can appear in human or animal forms, according to Arabian and Muslim mythology - the children suspect that djinns may be responsible for the disappearance of their classmates, not entertaining the possibility that there may be a criminal at large in their own community. Anappara explores the extreme class division in India, with the impoverished slum as the novel's setting which is constantly watched over by the looming high-rise buildings which house the much wealthier members of society. The economic, religious and social divide is cleverly illuminated by the narration of the honesty and naivety of a child. Due to the very poignant reality of the subject matter in this book, don't expect a happy ending from this one. 

The narrative voice is the real superstar element of this novel. Anappara has cleverly constructed the 'world' according to a nine-year-old boy, who believes he is highly aware and mature beyond his years - but in reality is extremely naive and innocent. The story through the lens of a child makes for a frank, honest and objective account of what he sees and experiences, free from the prejudice that is often held in adults. There are elements which are humorous, childlike and heartwarming, such as the descriptions of the colours and smells of the bazaar; yet equally some extremely harrowing scenes when Jai begins to come to terms with the reality of the situation, in contrast to his earlier disbelief and immense optimism that the children would be found alive. This is a truly eye-opening, heartbreaking and emotional coming-of-age novel which has educated me on the reality of the dangers of the divided society of modern India, where lives really do seem to be worth less when you have less.

Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell

This is my first Maggie O’Farrell novel and I am so excited to read more of her work after enjoying this one so much. Hamnet is inspired by the life and marriage of William Shakespeare and one of his three children, Hamnet, who died aged eleven. The narrative jumps between the novel’s present, when Hamnet is a child, and also the courtship of his parents and how they met. The playwright is never named throughout the story; only referred to ‘the father’ or ‘the husband’, which illuminates the focus on his role in a domestic sense as opposed to his fame as a writer. In fact, his work in London is barely referred to throughout most of the novel, with only allusions to just how successful his career was. We are given a snapshot purely of the family life in Stratford, where he met his wife Agnes at the age of 18. Agnes was a subject of much speculation in the town and was believed to be a witch or wise-woman, so his partnership with her, particularly when she fell pregnant out of wedlock, was largely frowned upon.

The novel repeatedly jumps forward in time to when the couple have three children - Susanna, the eldest; and Hamnet and Judith, who are twins. At the beginning of the story, Judith has taken to bed with a fever and buboes - a sure sign of plague. The tale focuses largely on one week of the family’s life, during which one of the children is destined not to survive. It is a beautiful and moving tale of the loss of a child, and how grief has the capability to tear a family apart - or bring them together. O’Farrell captures the nuances of family life in a stunning way. The historical novel also draws on a very topical issue which is happening right now - the spread of disease. O’Farrell cleverly illustrates how the illness has been passed on from animal to human, and travelled a great distance crossing large bodies of water, to reach an unassuming family in Stratford. This is particularly pertinent today with the prolific Covid-19 which has dominated headlines for weeks and months.

The Dutch House by Ann Patchett

This book was selected for the Women's Prize longlist, which was the reason for me purchasing it initially, and although it did not progress to the shortlist, this is still a fantastic book which I thoroughly enjoyed. Patchett is the author of seven novels and three works of non-fiction, and this is the first of her works that I have read. The novel, set just after the Second World War, spans five decades and follows the lives of a family and their attachment to their childhood home, The Dutch House. Cyril Conroy, the father of our protagonist Danny, happens upon immense wealth due to the success of his real-estate business, and purchases the grand home which is intended as a present for his wife.

This sets in motion the unravelling of the family - Elna Conroy despises the house, and when it becomes too much for her she decides to leave her husband and children behind. Danny's older sister by eight years, Maeve, is overcome with grief and diagnosed with diabetes soon after her mother's disappearance, which is partly attributed to the sorrow she had been faced with at such a young age. When their father remarries a spiteful and jealous woman, and moves into the house with her two children, the lives of Danny and Maeve are further thrown into turmoil. Their father's death when Danny is just fifteen is the final straw - his widow takes claim of the house and Danny and Maeve, as well as their beloved household staff, are removed and asked never to return.

This is at times the most frustrating book to read - the injustice of the siblings' treatment is so physically angering that you just want to throw it against a wall. The two once-wealthy children are thrown quickly back into poverty and must navigate their lives with no parents and their childhood memories ripped from underneath them. Throughout the course of the novel, despite relationships and friendships it becomes clear that the only people they can truly count on are each other, and their bond grows ever stronger. They return to the house periodically over the years, only stopping outside in the car to glance briefly at their beloved childhood home, and find that they remain drawn to the magnificent building which they should rightly have inherited. 

This novel was extremely character-driven, which I loved - the protagonist was sympathetic and narrated the tale well (though he had his own flaws which were illuminated well), and Maeve was a brilliant and strong persona. Patchett's character development throughout was stellar, and added to the thrilling plot this made for a wonderful read. I would have liked to learn more about Andrea's (wicked stepmother) background - however I can see why the author wanted to focus on the present of the novel and the characters of Danny and Maeve, and she didn't stray from that too much except for in anecdotes or dialogue referring to their parents' past. Ultimately, this novel is beautiful and raw portrait of the bond between siblings and how a family can be torn apart by wealth - it is such an enjoyable and moving read and I highly recommend it.

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernadine Evaristo

This novel focuses in on twelve vibrant characters who are mostly black women, although not exclusively, and the trials and tribulations of living in contemporary Britain, faced with prejudice, scrutiny and everyday racism in a culture which is predominantly white.

I enjoyed the book and found it intensely funny, entertaining and, of course, highly frustrating at times. Evaristo’s writing was accessible and absorbing and I can see why Girl, Woman, Other received the acclaim that it did. It is written like a collection of short stories about the different characters, who are all from different social and economic backgrounds, and the narratives intertwine in the final chapter which rounds the novel off nicely. Evaristo’s characters and landscapes were vibrant, colourful and quirky, and I laughed out loud a lot at this book.

Although I thought this book was great, not to mention important, I didn’t find the story overly memorable - perhaps because of the fairly large cast of protagonists which made it more difficult to become invested in a primary narrator. It’s always difficult when reading a book which has been hugely praised, but this one definitely didn’t disappoint!