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A review by elerireads
The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing
4.0
There's a hell of a lot packed into this book. The jumping about between all the different notebooks and third person narrative at different points in time was a bit confusing, especially the extended sections of the novel Anna is writing, because it's so similar to her own life, but the resulting jumbled mess seemed like quite an accurate reflection of life. It certainly managed to capture a lot of different aspects of Anna's life that way. The fragmentation of the narrative mirrors Anna's perception of society as falling apart, as well as her own deteriorating mental health, especially as she refers to this as "cracking up".
Although Anna is fairly heavily involved with the Communist Party, there's very little about communist ideology itself - her psychoanalyst even comments that she never talks about politics. The red notebook, which is allocated to politics, mostly focuses on party dynamics and ends up building up quite a substantial critique of the way the CP operates, especially the confusion of British communists trying to make sense of events in Russia in the 1950s. In fact, most of the political messaging is anti-war; behind all of the other, more personal events there's a constant backdrop of worry about war and terror of the H-bomb.
Throughout the book there's a common thread of men and women, their relationships with one another, and women's place in society in the 50s. It starts off fairly gently, just commenting on jealousy and power dynamics as side remarks, and portraying George's affairs in quite a forgiving light. Then as it progresses, the men treating women like crap starts to become a bit of a theme, and there comes a point about 2/3 of the way through (at least it was about there for me) when you become consciously aware that you loathe every single male character. Even the ones who seem kind and intelligent end up being hypocrites or callous and oblivious in some way. Without fully registering exactly when or how it happened, I realised Doris Lessing had somehow managed to induce a fervent hatred for the entirety of mankind. Quite near the end, one of them freely admits to and borderline boasts about benefitting from societal sexism, and all you feel is relief that at least he is aware of it. Anna and her friend Molly describe themselves as "free women" because they are unmarried and at therefore at liberty to have affairs and sleep with whoever they like, but it becomes clear that they are using the term ironically because in reality they are far from free.
I particularly liked the part when Anna decided to record every detail of one day, and realised she would have to write about having her period when she never normally would because the word "blood" looks far too dramatic on a page for what it actually is. We then see that in fact being on her period has a substantial effect on her day, making her late in the morning, having to plan her day strategically, causing her pain, affecting her mood and making her constantly distracted by worrying if she smells. Meanwhile of course all her male colleagues are totally unaware of all that stuff going on. That same day she has to deal with childcare and shopping and cooking for Michael, who then never comes. It was a really powerful way of illustrating how the small things add up.
Although for the most part it's a tolerant and forward-thinking book, there's some fairly unpleasant and uncomfortable discourse about "real men" (mirrored in a really bizarre discussion of "real orgasms" that was jarringly reminiscent of some of the more ludicrous passages from Lady Chatterley's Lover), seemingly defined as the opposite of homosexuals, who Anna pities and is disgusted by. It's mostly an attitude of condescension, rather than outright hatred, but that makes it particularly disappointing and hypocritical given that Anna is so scathing about Marion's pity and condescension towards black Africans.
Overall I enjoyed this book and it was very thought-provoking, but I think it was perhaps a bit too long (much like this review which seems to have turned into a small book... Oops). There aren't many natural stopping points so it's not great for dipping in and out of, which made it not an ideal choice for exam time. Also, because Anna is a writer, a lot of the book is about writing, which had the unfortunate effect of making me want to write, even though I know I can't.
Although Anna is fairly heavily involved with the Communist Party, there's very little about communist ideology itself - her psychoanalyst even comments that she never talks about politics. The red notebook, which is allocated to politics, mostly focuses on party dynamics and ends up building up quite a substantial critique of the way the CP operates, especially the confusion of British communists trying to make sense of events in Russia in the 1950s. In fact, most of the political messaging is anti-war; behind all of the other, more personal events there's a constant backdrop of worry about war and terror of the H-bomb.
Throughout the book there's a common thread of men and women, their relationships with one another, and women's place in society in the 50s. It starts off fairly gently, just commenting on jealousy and power dynamics as side remarks, and portraying George's affairs in quite a forgiving light. Then as it progresses, the men treating women like crap starts to become a bit of a theme, and there comes a point about 2/3 of the way through (at least it was about there for me) when you become consciously aware that you loathe every single male character. Even the ones who seem kind and intelligent end up being hypocrites or callous and oblivious in some way. Without fully registering exactly when or how it happened, I realised Doris Lessing had somehow managed to induce a fervent hatred for the entirety of mankind. Quite near the end, one of them freely admits to and borderline boasts about benefitting from societal sexism, and all you feel is relief that at least he is aware of it. Anna and her friend Molly describe themselves as "free women" because they are unmarried and at therefore at liberty to have affairs and sleep with whoever they like, but it becomes clear that they are using the term ironically because in reality they are far from free.
I particularly liked the part when Anna decided to record every detail of one day, and realised she would have to write about having her period when she never normally would because the word "blood" looks far too dramatic on a page for what it actually is. We then see that in fact being on her period has a substantial effect on her day, making her late in the morning, having to plan her day strategically, causing her pain, affecting her mood and making her constantly distracted by worrying if she smells. Meanwhile of course all her male colleagues are totally unaware of all that stuff going on. That same day she has to deal with childcare and shopping and cooking for Michael, who then never comes. It was a really powerful way of illustrating how the small things add up.
Although for the most part it's a tolerant and forward-thinking book, there's some fairly unpleasant and uncomfortable discourse about "real men" (mirrored in a really bizarre discussion of "real orgasms" that was jarringly reminiscent of some of the more ludicrous passages from Lady Chatterley's Lover), seemingly defined as the opposite of homosexuals, who Anna pities and is disgusted by. It's mostly an attitude of condescension, rather than outright hatred, but that makes it particularly disappointing and hypocritical given that Anna is so scathing about Marion's pity and condescension towards black Africans.
Overall I enjoyed this book and it was very thought-provoking, but I think it was perhaps a bit too long (much like this review which seems to have turned into a small book... Oops). There aren't many natural stopping points so it's not great for dipping in and out of, which made it not an ideal choice for exam time. Also, because Anna is a writer, a lot of the book is about writing, which had the unfortunate effect of making me want to write, even though I know I can't.