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3.71 AVERAGE
3.71 AVERAGE
I was a little thrown off of this at first but I'm really glad I read it. It's pretty weird but also very touching and raw.
I have seen a significant uptick in the "feminist dystopia" genre in the last year, but RED CLOCKS is the first book to fall into this category that feels fully realized and fully successful to me.
It took me a little while to get going, to understand how the characters fit together, and to see how the structure of the book was going to work. But once I was oriented I found myself getting deeply absorbed. I read this book on the sidelines of t-ball practice, with people and kids running all around me, working as hard as I could to tune it out because I wanted more time in it.
Sometimes in these near-future dystopias I find myself annoyed and rolling my eyes. Most of these books are societies where things suddenly turn on a dime, where the change happens so quickly, and where the real repercussions of that kind of change don't actually seem to penetrate. The new society is the kind of society where the current rules have always been the rules. It's not the most effective worldbuilding. Here, I felt regularly creeped out by Zumas's speculative leaps. They feel like the kind of thing that could happen, that could happen soon, that could happen even with the hurdles it would require. And more than that, the world she lives in is one where people remember the rules before, where not everyone likes them, where people are still figuring out what to do with the new cards they've been dealt. To me, that makes it much more scary and affecting than a book with a horrific patriarchal system that feels farther away from my own reality.
The structure of the novel is basically perfect. The four women in the book all have lives centered around the central system of the female sex: its ability to bear children. It is the thing that has made patriarchal culture what it is, but it is also something that women have reclaimed and found joy and identity in as feminism has evolved. The way these women relate to pregnancy, birth, abortion, and childrearing stands in stark contrast to one another, but they all felt real and personally relevant. That Zumas allows them to be so different, to envy and dislike each other for their differences, and leaves it all without comment, without choosing any one character to be a moral highground or an arbiter of what is good, is another thing I liked about it so much. The book stays zoomed in on these women's lives, letting us see how they intertwine and react. It doesn't try to make a bigger statement, which is why it makes such an effective statement.
Extra bonus points for the fantastic cover, get the actually physical book if you can and take it with you out in public because there is very little in the world that is better than a book with (basically) a vagina on the cover.
It took me a little while to get going, to understand how the characters fit together, and to see how the structure of the book was going to work. But once I was oriented I found myself getting deeply absorbed. I read this book on the sidelines of t-ball practice, with people and kids running all around me, working as hard as I could to tune it out because I wanted more time in it.
Sometimes in these near-future dystopias I find myself annoyed and rolling my eyes. Most of these books are societies where things suddenly turn on a dime, where the change happens so quickly, and where the real repercussions of that kind of change don't actually seem to penetrate. The new society is the kind of society where the current rules have always been the rules. It's not the most effective worldbuilding. Here, I felt regularly creeped out by Zumas's speculative leaps. They feel like the kind of thing that could happen, that could happen soon, that could happen even with the hurdles it would require. And more than that, the world she lives in is one where people remember the rules before, where not everyone likes them, where people are still figuring out what to do with the new cards they've been dealt. To me, that makes it much more scary and affecting than a book with a horrific patriarchal system that feels farther away from my own reality.
The structure of the novel is basically perfect. The four women in the book all have lives centered around the central system of the female sex: its ability to bear children. It is the thing that has made patriarchal culture what it is, but it is also something that women have reclaimed and found joy and identity in as feminism has evolved. The way these women relate to pregnancy, birth, abortion, and childrearing stands in stark contrast to one another, but they all felt real and personally relevant. That Zumas allows them to be so different, to envy and dislike each other for their differences, and leaves it all without comment, without choosing any one character to be a moral highground or an arbiter of what is good, is another thing I liked about it so much. The book stays zoomed in on these women's lives, letting us see how they intertwine and react. It doesn't try to make a bigger statement, which is why it makes such an effective statement.
Extra bonus points for the fantastic cover, get the actually physical book if you can and take it with you out in public because there is very little in the world that is better than a book with (basically) a vagina on the cover.
First of all, I would really appreciate if Auto-Correct would quit changing "Zumas" to "Zumba."
Second of all, for no good reason, this book was a chore and a half. It took all of my effort, energy, and spirit to start this book and really dig into it. I am happy that I did. The dystopian law-making is infuriating, but it is not unimaginable. The Personhood Amendment sounds like a bill that Dan Lipinski or Paul Ryan would introduce, and in this day and age of impressionable conservatives, I could see this situation being entirely real.
I'd expected Red Clocks to be a straightforward dystopia. When I first sat down to it, I was blown away by the prose. Zumas has a strange voice. Interwoven between the alternating perspectives are snippets of a story about a female arctic explorer; these are excerpts from a biography being written by one of the characters. Each time the perspective changes, the chapter is headed by their title: either the mender, the biographer, the wife, or the daughter. The style of writing is intensely cerebral; this wasn't an easy read for me. While the jarring style tested me at first, I decided that it was worth it. Zumas's voice is intellectual, but far from pretentious, and it has distinguished this book as a very smart, intense read.
A large part of me yearns for the idea of a more attainable prose style. I am pro-choice and proud, and I was so excited by the concept of this book. I knew I would devour it and find all of the truths I was looking for. And I did find truth, but I had to break through the elaborate wall of abstract execution first. I loved the concept of this book a little bit more than I loved the actual book, but I think it's just a personal preference. I wanted to get closer to the situation and to the characters, and I wanted to feel passionately connected to the ideas within, but the thoughtful, creative prose kept me at a bit of a distance. I think it was a respectful view of (cisgender) womanhood, but I didn't really find this to be the feminist work of art that I'd expected. I made a lot of assumptions about Red Clocks, so, again, let me reiterate that I firmly believe my shortcomings with this book are really just the fault of my own misguided expectations.
The book isn't obvious about its views toward abortion rights. It presents a situation and simply explores the ramifications of it. Red Clocks shows the affect of the Personhood Amendment from entirely different attitudes. The Biographer is a single woman who desperately wants a child, but can't conceive on her own, and soon, will be unable to adopt as a single parent. She resents The Daughter, one of her high school students, for seeking out an abortion across the Canadian border. While I selfishly wish I could claim this is a piece of pro-choice literature, I cannot. Red Clocks is elevated above the idea of right or wrong. The book is accepting and exploratory of all consequences of the amendment, and I believe that you could read this and find truth in it no matter your political orientation.
I almost want to say thank you to Leni Zumas, for creating a book about abortion that tells multiple stories, that explores the meaning of it within the lives of different women. Thank you for the nuance, for the honesty, and for the representation.
Second of all, for no good reason, this book was a chore and a half. It took all of my effort, energy, and spirit to start this book and really dig into it. I am happy that I did. The dystopian law-making is infuriating, but it is not unimaginable. The Personhood Amendment sounds like a bill that Dan Lipinski or Paul Ryan would introduce, and in this day and age of impressionable conservatives, I could see this situation being entirely real.
I'd expected Red Clocks to be a straightforward dystopia. When I first sat down to it, I was blown away by the prose. Zumas has a strange voice. Interwoven between the alternating perspectives are snippets of a story about a female arctic explorer; these are excerpts from a biography being written by one of the characters. Each time the perspective changes, the chapter is headed by their title: either the mender, the biographer, the wife, or the daughter. The style of writing is intensely cerebral; this wasn't an easy read for me. While the jarring style tested me at first, I decided that it was worth it. Zumas's voice is intellectual, but far from pretentious, and it has distinguished this book as a very smart, intense read.
A large part of me yearns for the idea of a more attainable prose style. I am pro-choice and proud, and I was so excited by the concept of this book. I knew I would devour it and find all of the truths I was looking for. And I did find truth, but I had to break through the elaborate wall of abstract execution first. I loved the concept of this book a little bit more than I loved the actual book, but I think it's just a personal preference. I wanted to get closer to the situation and to the characters, and I wanted to feel passionately connected to the ideas within, but the thoughtful, creative prose kept me at a bit of a distance. I think it was a respectful view of (cisgender) womanhood, but I didn't really find this to be the feminist work of art that I'd expected. I made a lot of assumptions about Red Clocks, so, again, let me reiterate that I firmly believe my shortcomings with this book are really just the fault of my own misguided expectations.
The book isn't obvious about its views toward abortion rights. It presents a situation and simply explores the ramifications of it. Red Clocks shows the affect of the Personhood Amendment from entirely different attitudes. The Biographer is a single woman who desperately wants a child, but can't conceive on her own, and soon, will be unable to adopt as a single parent. She resents The Daughter, one of her high school students, for seeking out an abortion across the Canadian border. While I selfishly wish I could claim this is a piece of pro-choice literature, I cannot. Red Clocks is elevated above the idea of right or wrong. The book is accepting and exploratory of all consequences of the amendment, and I believe that you could read this and find truth in it no matter your political orientation.
I almost want to say thank you to Leni Zumas, for creating a book about abortion that tells multiple stories, that explores the meaning of it within the lives of different women. Thank you for the nuance, for the honesty, and for the representation.
I struggled deciding whether to give this book a 3 or 4 star rating but decided to go with 4 because it definitely grabbed my attention. Initially I thought it was weird and It did take some getting used to because the writing style is different but once I did I couldn't stop. It's an important read because it makes you ask yourself tough questions. Like what if (in our lifetime) abortion was considered illegal? , what if you had to have a spouse in order to adopt?, what if IVF was illegal? These situations are only some of what the characters are dealing with. If you can get through the weirdness this book has a lot of potential.
3.5 stars.
It's been awhile since I stayed up until 2 am to finish a book, so you have to know that I enjoyed this one because it kept me reading long past my bedtime.
But I've been hearing that this book is the new [b:The Handmaid's Tale|38447|The Handmaid's Tale|Margaret Atwood|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1498057733s/38447.jpg|1119185] and that everyone needs to read it and I don't quite feel like it lived up to the hype.
So I'm torn. Did I thoroughly enjoy this book? Absolutely. Do I feel like it was overhyped? Absolutely.
It could be that I'm missing a lot of the messages in this book and I'll need to read it again. That's possible.
But I mostly think that I'm just not as taken with these dystopian cautionary tales as a lot of people are.
It also could be that I read this book at a time when it doesn't really feel like a cautionary tale anymore. Especially in light of all the insane Supreme Court things that happened this week, I don't feel like this book is that far from anything that could happen. We're already seeing gag rules put in place to limit abortions and cries from right-wing politicians that we need to care about family values. So it isn't that far-fetched to think abortion could be outlawed and only two-parents families could be allowed to adopt children.
The implications of possibly political actions are both far more terrifying and a lot less terrifying when they aren't so difficult to imagine actually happening. This book was both a wonderful and fascinating look at what this country could become and also a bit of a look at women's place in the world we already occupy.
So it this worth reading? Absolutely. But am I really tired of speculation on what's going to happen next, especially when it feels like reality couldn't get any more insane? Yeah.
Highly recommended if you loved [b:The Handmaid's Tale|38447|The Handmaid's Tale|Margaret Atwood|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1498057733s/38447.jpg|1119185] and enjoy other political and feminist books. Wait to read it if you can't handle any more political crises at the moment.
It's been awhile since I stayed up until 2 am to finish a book, so you have to know that I enjoyed this one because it kept me reading long past my bedtime.
But I've been hearing that this book is the new [b:The Handmaid's Tale|38447|The Handmaid's Tale|Margaret Atwood|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1498057733s/38447.jpg|1119185] and that everyone needs to read it and I don't quite feel like it lived up to the hype.
So I'm torn. Did I thoroughly enjoy this book? Absolutely. Do I feel like it was overhyped? Absolutely.
It could be that I'm missing a lot of the messages in this book and I'll need to read it again. That's possible.
But I mostly think that I'm just not as taken with these dystopian cautionary tales as a lot of people are.
It also could be that I read this book at a time when it doesn't really feel like a cautionary tale anymore. Especially in light of all the insane Supreme Court things that happened this week, I don't feel like this book is that far from anything that could happen. We're already seeing gag rules put in place to limit abortions and cries from right-wing politicians that we need to care about family values. So it isn't that far-fetched to think abortion could be outlawed and only two-parents families could be allowed to adopt children.
The implications of possibly political actions are both far more terrifying and a lot less terrifying when they aren't so difficult to imagine actually happening. This book was both a wonderful and fascinating look at what this country could become and also a bit of a look at women's place in the world we already occupy.
So it this worth reading? Absolutely. But am I really tired of speculation on what's going to happen next, especially when it feels like reality couldn't get any more insane? Yeah.
Highly recommended if you loved [b:The Handmaid's Tale|38447|The Handmaid's Tale|Margaret Atwood|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1498057733s/38447.jpg|1119185] and enjoy other political and feminist books. Wait to read it if you can't handle any more political crises at the moment.
(Full disclosure: I was sent a copy by the publisher to review)
This is where I remind you that three stars means I solidly liked it and would recommend! By now, I'm sure most of you are familiar with the premise of Red Clocks: abortion is illegal, as well as IVF and adoption by single people. The tagline asks, "What is a woman for?" and Zumas tackles this question from the angle of a teenager who finds out she's pregnant, a woman unhappy in her marriage, a woman desperate for a baby, a woman on the outskirts of society.
The construction of this novel plays a big role. These four narrators (or five, depending on how you count) tell the story through short bursts of chapters, skipping fluidly between them. The chapters aren't labeled with their names, but with a description: the daughter, the wife, the biographer, the mender. That leads me to think that despite the intimate subject matter, we're supposed to feel a little distance from them - and I definitely felt distanced.
I really liked the puzzle at the beginning of figuring out who these characters were and how their relationship to each other, and the short chapters kept me turning pages. The set up was interesting enough and I enjoyed the writing, but the build up never really gained momentum and the resolution missed the emotional punch that I think was supposed to be felt.
This is where I remind you that three stars means I solidly liked it and would recommend! By now, I'm sure most of you are familiar with the premise of Red Clocks: abortion is illegal, as well as IVF and adoption by single people. The tagline asks, "What is a woman for?" and Zumas tackles this question from the angle of a teenager who finds out she's pregnant, a woman unhappy in her marriage, a woman desperate for a baby, a woman on the outskirts of society.
The construction of this novel plays a big role. These four narrators (or five, depending on how you count) tell the story through short bursts of chapters, skipping fluidly between them. The chapters aren't labeled with their names, but with a description: the daughter, the wife, the biographer, the mender. That leads me to think that despite the intimate subject matter, we're supposed to feel a little distance from them - and I definitely felt distanced.
I really liked the puzzle at the beginning of figuring out who these characters were and how their relationship to each other, and the short chapters kept me turning pages. The set up was interesting enough and I enjoyed the writing, but the build up never really gained momentum and the resolution missed the emotional punch that I think was supposed to be felt.