You need to sign in or sign up before continuing.
Take a photo of a barcode or cover
3.83 AVERAGE
3.83 AVERAGE
This book has absolutely opened my eyes to the way that I have been viewing the very natural process that has occurred since the beginning of time - our periods. ⠀
⠀
I was left shocked, surprised, enlightened, inspired, proud and so very much relieved after reading this book. It is a gem and I wish I had read this just as I started my journey into womanhood. ⠀
⠀
It looks at the history of periods, and how it has affected and strengthened women whether it be relationships, the workplace, schools and even politics (this one surprised me the most). After reading this, I am reminded how strong us women are. We need to give ourselves a lot more credit y'all and we need to be proud of who we are as we were created. ⠀
⠀
⠀
I was left shocked, surprised, enlightened, inspired, proud and so very much relieved after reading this book. It is a gem and I wish I had read this just as I started my journey into womanhood. ⠀
⠀
It looks at the history of periods, and how it has affected and strengthened women whether it be relationships, the workplace, schools and even politics (this one surprised me the most). After reading this, I am reminded how strong us women are. We need to give ourselves a lot more credit y'all and we need to be proud of who we are as we were created. ⠀
⠀
This book is informative and clearly well-researched. I learned a lot and was guided to see aspects of having a period in ways I had never before considered. The chapter on period poverty is a good example of that. I particularly liked the last couple of chapters, about trans experiences, people who wanted periods but couldn’t have them and vice versa, and the menopause.
However, I hated the writing style. The endless quipping and jokey asides wore thin very quickly and left me at times positively reluctant to absorb the education I was receiving. The big magazine-style ‘subtitles’ or accents, for want of a better word, did nothing to abate my surliness. In fact, one wonders whether, in another era, perhaps, this book would have been better presented as a serialised column, or even make for a good documentary script. I could see a Carrie Bradshaw style spin-off, even. But to my view, the tone did not make for an enjoyable book. A large part of me suspects it simply wasn’t the ideal format.
My one other major gripe is the author’s few major swipes at religion. Given how the book seems to be founded on empathy, I find it quite amazing that Barnett apparently has none for any women who genuinely believe the tenets that she herself finds so laughable and offensive. Her glib entreaties to ‘shake off this nonsense’, her anecdote about leaving the synagogue after a surprising coaching session, and her indictment of the Hindu women protesting menstruating women from entering their sacred temple - not once did she consider how it must have been for women to get to that place, to have internalised the shame she seems to so easily spurn. I gently submit that if Barnett really does want to lift up the sisterhood and save us all from centuries-old traditions that she finds stifling, a good start would be to consider WHY women may uphold them, which factors may have been in play; whether through pressure from family, internalised misogyny, or - shock horror! - genuine, devoted belief. At points, the book felt like it was written as some kind of secret atheist manifesto, or worse, a rally cry only aimed at the liberal, solid-thinking elite who’ve realised all religions are a load of poppycock. Emma Barnett is totally entitled to this belief. But others are equally entitled to theirs, and if she aims to write an informative, empathetic work of non-fiction, I posit she would do well to remember that.
I know this review may sound churlish, given that I did finish the book and learned a lot. Heck, I even cracked a smile once or twice. But ultimately, if you were to ask me, would I have liked to learn these same facts in another way, my answer has to be, ‘I bloody would.’
However, I hated the writing style. The endless quipping and jokey asides wore thin very quickly and left me at times positively reluctant to absorb the education I was receiving. The big magazine-style ‘subtitles’ or accents, for want of a better word, did nothing to abate my surliness. In fact, one wonders whether, in another era, perhaps, this book would have been better presented as a serialised column, or even make for a good documentary script. I could see a Carrie Bradshaw style spin-off, even. But to my view, the tone did not make for an enjoyable book. A large part of me suspects it simply wasn’t the ideal format.
My one other major gripe is the author’s few major swipes at religion. Given how the book seems to be founded on empathy, I find it quite amazing that Barnett apparently has none for any women who genuinely believe the tenets that she herself finds so laughable and offensive. Her glib entreaties to ‘shake off this nonsense’, her anecdote about leaving the synagogue after a surprising coaching session, and her indictment of the Hindu women protesting menstruating women from entering their sacred temple - not once did she consider how it must have been for women to get to that place, to have internalised the shame she seems to so easily spurn. I gently submit that if Barnett really does want to lift up the sisterhood and save us all from centuries-old traditions that she finds stifling, a good start would be to consider WHY women may uphold them, which factors may have been in play; whether through pressure from family, internalised misogyny, or - shock horror! - genuine, devoted belief. At points, the book felt like it was written as some kind of secret atheist manifesto, or worse, a rally cry only aimed at the liberal, solid-thinking elite who’ve realised all religions are a load of poppycock. Emma Barnett is totally entitled to this belief. But others are equally entitled to theirs, and if she aims to write an informative, empathetic work of non-fiction, I posit she would do well to remember that.
I know this review may sound churlish, given that I did finish the book and learned a lot. Heck, I even cracked a smile once or twice. But ultimately, if you were to ask me, would I have liked to learn these same facts in another way, my answer has to be, ‘I bloody would.’
Fun. Illuminating. Necessary. An important read for women and men alike.
hopeful
informative
inspiring
medium-paced
This was due back to the library so I didn’t finish it, but it was heading for an “OK” review anyway. I was surprised by the occasional (unintentional, I believe) non-inclusive language à la “men don’t get periods and they never will” (pun intended, I’m sure). The brash attitude — as though broaching this subject is super shocking — felt a little weird to me because I am often looking at topics like this about women’s health and rights, but I think it may feel appropriately edgy and risqué to many readers. It was insightful here and there with a few interesting facts sprinkled in, but I’m not sure it will be worth my time to finish it when it becomes available from the library again.
It might not have been the best match for me, but if the topic is new to you and you like a “sassy” writing style, this might be exactly what you’re after.
It might not have been the best match for me, but if the topic is new to you and you like a “sassy” writing style, this might be exactly what you’re after.
I really enjoyed this. It’s enormously readable, interesting and amusing, but very serious about its subject matter and passionate too. It’s filled with a righteous, vital anger - if reading the stories from around the world of women’s various period-related struggles doesn’t infuriate you, then I don’t want to know you.
A note - not a criticism - that this book is largely from the perspective of first-world heterosexual cis women, but there’s information from worldwide about other situations, and a sensitive chapter about trans and nb menstruators.
Additionally, this book has put me onto an hilarious and bizarre 1946 Disney movie on periods, which has made my weekend.
A note - not a criticism - that this book is largely from the perspective of first-world heterosexual cis women, but there’s information from worldwide about other situations, and a sensitive chapter about trans and nb menstruators.
Additionally, this book has put me onto an hilarious and bizarre 1946 Disney movie on periods, which has made my weekend.
TLDR: The book contains some interesting content, but I think it would have been more interesting/groundbreaking 5 years ago. The mix of memoir and science/history/sociology didn't really work for me even though I am a big fan of those genres separately. For most of the book the language/framing is NOT LGBT+ inclusive which almost made me stop reading.
This book was quite memoir-based, which I wasn't expecting (and didn't really like). My favourite chapters were more the fact based ones (e.g. the section on period poverty, the histories of companies selling pads and tampons).
However, my major gripe with this book was the way almost all of it was presented in a very hetero- and cis-normative framework. It positions having periods and being a woman as being equivalent for 95% of the book (language such as "becoming a woman"). There is a chapter on women who don't have periods and non-women who do have periods, but it seems very cut off from the rest of the book. Much of this chapter focuses on woman who was born with a medical condition which means she has no periods. She experiences being sidelined and feeling "less than" because she has never experienced a period - a message the rest of the book contributes to by centering periods as the defining experience of womanhood. There is a brief discussion of trans men/nonbinary people who bleed but this was mainly via the story of a single person rather than looking at statistics/trends. People who have hysterectomies and then do or don't go through the menopause were also only discussed anecdotally and in passing. These topics would have fit in well in this chapter, along with a more inclusive/thoughtful use of language throughout the book.
Even more aggravatingly the chapter concerning "period sex" only considered penetrative sex between men and women - not only is this exclusionary, but I think discussion of women who have sex with women would have been really interesting (is it more likely if you have two periods to contend with? is there something about your partner also having a period that makes things different?).
I watch a lot of sex/relationships/queer content on youtube and lots of the discussions there are way ahead of the content of this book. Alternative menstrual products are barely mentioned in the book, even though there has been a huge rise in popularity of these in recent years for environmental and health purposes.
All in all, I'm not sure I'd recommend this book due to the weird framing of periods = woman, and odd tone of semi memoir/semi reporting.
This book was quite memoir-based, which I wasn't expecting (and didn't really like). My favourite chapters were more the fact based ones (e.g. the section on period poverty, the histories of companies selling pads and tampons).
However, my major gripe with this book was the way almost all of it was presented in a very hetero- and cis-normative framework. It positions having periods and being a woman as being equivalent for 95% of the book (language such as "becoming a woman"). There is a chapter on women who don't have periods and non-women who do have periods, but it seems very cut off from the rest of the book. Much of this chapter focuses on woman who was born with a medical condition which means she has no periods. She experiences being sidelined and feeling "less than" because she has never experienced a period - a message the rest of the book contributes to by centering periods as the defining experience of womanhood. There is a brief discussion of trans men/nonbinary people who bleed but this was mainly via the story of a single person rather than looking at statistics/trends. People who have hysterectomies and then do or don't go through the menopause were also only discussed anecdotally and in passing. These topics would have fit in well in this chapter, along with a more inclusive/thoughtful use of language throughout the book.
Even more aggravatingly the chapter concerning "period sex" only considered penetrative sex between men and women - not only is this exclusionary, but I think discussion of women who have sex with women would have been really interesting (is it more likely if you have two periods to contend with? is there something about your partner also having a period that makes things different?).
I watch a lot of sex/relationships/queer content on youtube and lots of the discussions there are way ahead of the content of this book. Alternative menstrual products are barely mentioned in the book, even though there has been a huge rise in popularity of these in recent years for environmental and health purposes.
All in all, I'm not sure I'd recommend this book due to the weird framing of periods = woman, and odd tone of semi memoir/semi reporting.