Jen Musgrave lost her baby, and almost died in the process. Yet the community that should be offering her comfort – a cause she has wholeheartedly dedicated her life to – has turned its back on her, castigating her for choosing to survive.
Isobel Forge has spent a lifetime following the prescriptions set out for an ideal daughter, dutiful mother, and suitable wife to a community elder, all at the expense of getting to know her own self. When her husband leaves her, what becomes of her identity – what role can she possibly assume?
Zelda Bloom is a creature of sin and abjection according to the brotherhood she was born into, a people whose cruelty continues to haunt her after all these years of successfully having run away from it – until. She measures out what her designs and photographs reveal about herself, while there is so much of the past she cannot dare but conceal.
Three women, with distinct lives, disparate desires, and different degrees of belief in this ‘community’ – a religious cult known as The Disciples of the Last Days – that controls their bodies, their personhood, their whole lives. Oh, Sister tells the gut-wrenching story of these women’s experiences of disfellowship and their difficult, intertwined journeys of coming to terms with the reality of their predicament and rising above it, above the misogyny, corruption, violence, and zealotry of it all. The author bases the substance of this supposed fiction off of her own upbringing as a Jehovah’s Witness; what may come across as the unimaginably dystopian suffering of her female characters is happening to real women in this very world that we call ours.
A gripping horror story, this book does a brilliant job of exploring the ways in which the love for a greater god is manipulated within organised religion, and the deep psychological impact of fear, submission, and groupthink on those subsumed by their indoctrination and those individuals who seek to move beyond it. Each of the three protagonists are here sketched out with a great degree of attention, their habits and motivations nuanced to the point where they assume the solidity of people outside of the page, people we cannot help feel for even if we do not agree with or even like them. The effect of religious trauma and guilt on each woman’s sexuality and general sense of agency was particularly interesting to me as a reader, and I could not help but appreciate the depth with which their psychic turmoil was explored. Although I initially found the three narratives too disjointed, I was moved and shaken by the intensity of the story, and quite taken by the realistic sense of sisterhood that develops between them.
In style, Oh, Sister is certainly more commercial than literary; I was not the greatest fan of the writing on a sentence level. However, the tale it tells is bursting with urgency and far from the simplistic story it starts out as. I’m glad I stuck with it, and would recommend others to give it a try.