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A review by cassieyorke
For the Love of Many by Vivian Dunn, Vivian Dunn
5.0
In For the Love of Many, a beautiful lesbian relationship between two young women is a candle flickering in the darkness of patriarchy and paranoia. Like in 1984, a life-redeeming romance swells in the first third of the narrative, only for the bill to come due around the middle of the book when the world wakes up to the happiness blooming in its midst. It's also a bit like the late Third Age in J.R.R. Tolkien's legendarium, where the searching gaze of Sauron expands outward, bent on snuffing the last flickers of hope in a darkening world.
But far from dark, Vivian's world is bright, vivid, colorful, the nights blinded by cabaret footlights and the watery haze of heartbroken tears. Fairly quickly, New York City rises in the distance, glittering, shining, waiting. It's a coming-of-age story set in the craziest place one could come of age - among the speakeasies of NYC. Vivian captures the breathless excitement of new adulthood, brought together with near-strangers in taxis where the anonymity and unfamiliar surroundings make instant friends of you and your companions. It's classic human adventure - you're neck-deep in the unknown, riding on unexpected fortune, with disaster a breath away. And in the middle of the adrenaline and new friendships, love emerges. It's a dopamine and adrenaline cocktail, set amidst the blinding glitz and glamour of the Flapper Age.
And instead of dark lords in distant towers, the villains in this book are all too real - whinging, smarmy little men. Little men who exaggerate their importance in the book by overpowering and smothering the protagonists. One heroine is dominated by a clingy, jealous husband that remains an absent menace until he comes to see another young woman as a rival - whereupon he makes himself a clingy, jealous stink in our heroine's life. Men like this are everywhere in our world, and feature prominently in Vivian's world too. Another man is a looming threat over our other heroine's shoulder, a sexually-menacing threat. These men conspire to smother all the light of hope and love in the world, dominating the protagonists, sowing doubt in their souls, equating themselves with the world at large. The love and beauty at the heart of the story begins to rot inside our heroine's hearts when they come to see these men as their world, come to believe there's no escaping their grip, their shadow, the children they try to impregnate them with.
For me, this is why Vivian's debut novel remains a tragedy. While eventually the shadow is battled away, it's a temporary reprieve. The darkness remains - the shadow of patriarchy, the shadow of these men who own the heroines like chattel - are still inside their hearts, their minds, their souls. The girls aren't free by a long shot. Because instead of Sauron with his dark armies and the power that the One Ring has over anyone who picks it up, these men are already inside the heroines, rotting them from inside, turning all hope to doubt. "I'm inescapable," they seem to say, all in one voice. "Even if you escape me. Because not only can I make you doubt what you have, I can make you not want it at all. I can make you want to be my property." You feel this from Manny, the husband, more than any character in the book - and sometimes Nadine gives in. And when they aren't sowing doubt in the present, they're in the girls' memories, crawling out of the shadows of the past to menace the present.
I gave this book five stars for its beauty, its prose, its wit. You won't find many depictions of the 1920s more beautiful, more vivid than this one. And Vivian sure knows how to capture those moments of loneliness and guilt, what it feels like to be truly alone and terrified in a huge world that sees a young woman as a quick meal.
But don't come to this book in search of good feels. And most importantly - abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
But far from dark, Vivian's world is bright, vivid, colorful, the nights blinded by cabaret footlights and the watery haze of heartbroken tears. Fairly quickly, New York City rises in the distance, glittering, shining, waiting. It's a coming-of-age story set in the craziest place one could come of age - among the speakeasies of NYC. Vivian captures the breathless excitement of new adulthood, brought together with near-strangers in taxis where the anonymity and unfamiliar surroundings make instant friends of you and your companions. It's classic human adventure - you're neck-deep in the unknown, riding on unexpected fortune, with disaster a breath away. And in the middle of the adrenaline and new friendships, love emerges. It's a dopamine and adrenaline cocktail, set amidst the blinding glitz and glamour of the Flapper Age.
And instead of dark lords in distant towers, the villains in this book are all too real - whinging, smarmy little men. Little men who exaggerate their importance in the book by overpowering and smothering the protagonists. One heroine is dominated by a clingy, jealous husband that remains an absent menace until he comes to see another young woman as a rival - whereupon he makes himself a clingy, jealous stink in our heroine's life. Men like this are everywhere in our world, and feature prominently in Vivian's world too. Another man is a looming threat over our other heroine's shoulder, a sexually-menacing threat. These men conspire to smother all the light of hope and love in the world, dominating the protagonists, sowing doubt in their souls, equating themselves with the world at large. The love and beauty at the heart of the story begins to rot inside our heroine's hearts when they come to see these men as their world, come to believe there's no escaping their grip, their shadow, the children they try to impregnate them with.
For me, this is why Vivian's debut novel remains a tragedy. While eventually the shadow is battled away, it's a temporary reprieve. The darkness remains - the shadow of patriarchy, the shadow of these men who own the heroines like chattel - are still inside their hearts, their minds, their souls. The girls aren't free by a long shot. Because instead of Sauron with his dark armies and the power that the One Ring has over anyone who picks it up, these men are already inside the heroines, rotting them from inside, turning all hope to doubt. "I'm inescapable," they seem to say, all in one voice. "Even if you escape me. Because not only can I make you doubt what you have, I can make you not want it at all. I can make you want to be my property." You feel this from Manny, the husband, more than any character in the book - and sometimes Nadine gives in. And when they aren't sowing doubt in the present, they're in the girls' memories, crawling out of the shadows of the past to menace the present.
I gave this book five stars for its beauty, its prose, its wit. You won't find many depictions of the 1920s more beautiful, more vivid than this one. And Vivian sure knows how to capture those moments of loneliness and guilt, what it feels like to be truly alone and terrified in a huge world that sees a young woman as a quick meal.
But don't come to this book in search of good feels. And most importantly - abandon all hope, ye who enter here.