Required Reading If… You're A Woman Who Is (Or Ever Has Been) In A Relationship With A Man

(you poor thing)

I’d love to say this was my idea, but if you listen to Not Without My Sister you’ll note that, in a recent episode, Beatrice raised the idea of “required reading”, as she waxed lyrical about Women, Language & Power: Giving Voice to Our Ambition by Susannah Baldwin.

She then – off-mic – suggested that I do a series on “required reading”, recommending different books for different times, situations and seasons of life.

I have a lot of broad themes in mind, books to read if: you’re pregnant; you’re a step parent; you’re feeling disempowered; you’re looking for answers; you’re getting into gardening; you have a Buffy-shaped hole in your life. And so on. The world truly is my (our) oyster.

Do let me know if you have any required reading lists you need in your life, or would simply love for someone else to collate for you.

Unless otherwise stated, all of the books listed will be books I’ve read, and liked well enough to recommend to other people. No two-star books here, friends!

---

This American Ex-Wife: How I Ended My Marriage and Started My Life

by Lyz Lenz

That the cover of this book – part memoir, part political treatise examining and annihilating the reasons women choose to marry men – depicts a burning wedding dress should tell you something about This American Ex-Wife, but it’s not the full story.

Sure, writer and fellow Substacker

lyz

is writing about the demise of her own marriage, the burning down of her life as a Midwestern mom and all-round Good Girl, and its reincarnation from the ashes of what once was, but she’s also writing about all of our lives, all of our marriages.

It’s the kind of book that has you humming along in recognition, feeling soothed by the fact that no, it’s not just you going through this or that, but on the next page feeling an incandescent rage at the fact that so many heterosexual women in marriages to men undergo the same mistreatments over and over and over again, and are expected just to grin and bear it “for the sake of the marriage” or “for the sake of the kids”.

What about for your own sake? Lenz asks. What about that?

This American Ex-Wife is powerful and funny and moving and enraging but there is also a hopefulness to the idea that we’re all here, looking behind the curtain at the same time, seeing that the Great and Powerful Oz is nothing but another self-aggrandizing little man, after all.

It’s just been released in the US, so I’m not sure if and when it will reach European shores – but you can buy Lenz’s first book, God Land, from Easons.

My Dark Vanessa

by Kate Elizabeth Russell

I read My Dark Vanessa in the time it took to fly from Dublin to Chicago, on March 14th of 2020, a few days before the whole world would seem to shift on its axis. (Don’t confuse the fact of its being a quick read with its being an easy read, at least not in the emotional sense.)

What I was expecting: a modern Lolita tale of girlish attraction, this time stripped of the male lens and told through the eyes of the eponymous Vanessa.

What I got: an examination of sexual attraction and power, and the ways in which each can be wielded, and perceived, with an almost Gothic horror style undertone.

That I related to Russell’s debut novel a lot seemed to say much about me, as I read it – but afterwards, as I spoke to friends who’d also read it, as I gorged myself on reviews and think pieces about the book, I realised, as with Lenz’s This American Ex-Wife, that there is much to relate to in this book for many women who have, at one stage or another, been lusted after by men – or, perhaps more aptly, felt somehow imbued with the power of perceiving that lust, as it was directed at them.

Russell deftly marries power and desire, lust and loyalty, to create a book that is a mirror held up to the experience of being a straight woman coming of age around the turn of the century, and lays bare the struggles many of us have with the #MeToo movement and the complex categorisation of man-as-predator.

Three Women

by Lisa Taddeo

Another debut author (don’t you just hate that?!), Lisa Taddeo’s Three Women is a work of journalistic brilliance: she spent years with the three women of the book, speaking to them at length about their sexual and romantic histories.

Though biographical writing can often seem a bit flat, Taddeo avoids that by instilling her writing with just enough graphic – although not sordid – detail to keep you entranced, and it helps that one of the three tales she tells comes to a climax in the form of a courtoom battle that serves as the sort of denouement of the book.

Ultimately, Three Women tells three stories of frustration, longing and life, each specific and discrete but – this is truly the theme of this list, I guess – universal in that specificity.

There are so many moments in Three Women that had me wanting to shout at the book, at the women therein, “WHY DON’T YOU JUST WALK AWAY?!” But they’re the same kinds of moments I’ve experienced all too many times, moments at which I didn’t walk away, either.

Because of its very nature – the narrative is incredibly well constructed by Taddeo, but these are real women’s stories, told by them and interpreted by the author – this is the kind of book that leaves you with more questions than answers. A lot like life, really.

It won’t be for everyone, but if you can suspend your scepticism – and, perhaps, impatience with people who make obviously dumb decisions – you might glean a lot from it.

This is Not About You

by Rosemary Mac Cabe (er, me)

Is it tacky to include one’s own book in a list of “required reading”? I don’t think I care.

This is Not About You is the story of my life thus far, told via the romantic and sexual relationships dotted throughout it – all of which have, for better or for worse (worse, I think, honestly) – been with men. It’s an unorthodox way to craft a memoir, but it felt the most honest to me; I had spent so much of my life planning my days and my outfits and my calendar to directly cater to the boy I was with or the man I was pursuing or, or, or.

It feels pathetic, to write it down like that – but it also feels like there is a certain universality in it, too. So many women are conditioned, almost from birth, to want to find a man, have a marriage, be a wife. Is it any wonder that I moulded myself so carefully to achieve those goals?

I could spend more time waxing lyrical about my own book, but instead I’ll share some reviews of the book from people I don’t know personally (or, at least, I don’t think I do):

“I loved this book so much and couldn’t put it down. I’ve got so many comparable experiences, and I thought I was unique (weird/even broken) in that.”

“I wish I had this book to read in my teens - it’s a lesson in self respect and being true to yourself… I was looking forward to reading her book for the writing alone, but I hadn’t realised just how moving her story would be. Parts were joyful, parts funny, parts heartbreaking but ultimately it is a book filled with hope. I loved it - it’s definitely in to reread pile.”

“The book is so well written that I could barely put it down, Mac Cabe’s writing is captivating, endearing, emotional, and brutally honest. I loved how the streets of Dublin were brought to life in the stories, and I found myself laughing along and nodding with the familiarity of it all. Mac Cabe is self-deprecating in many areas she needn’t be, but it makes the truth of her stories even more creditable. A lot of heterosexual women will be able to relate to the parts of ourselves that we give away for the sake of thankless men.”

It was also reviewed by The Irish Times, but heads up: you’ll need to be a subscriber to read it.

---

What books would you say are required reading for the cishet women among us?!

(And if you are a member of the LGBTQIA+ community and you’d like to write me a guest post with some recommended reading that sits outside of my sphere of knowledge and insight, please reply to this email and let’s make a deal!)