At the beginning of the novel, it's 1952 and Caroline Bender is starting her first job in the typing pool at a New York publishing company. This isn't what she intended at all. She went to a good college and did what she was supposed to do--snagged a man, a good catch, and got engaged--all set for her MRS degree. But then he married someone else and she is a failure because he dumped her and she isn't starting the life she's supposed to have and she's trying to figure out what to do and to be instead. She's 20.
She and the other women in the book, none of them older than their early 20s, have absorbed the lessons that their goal in life is to marry a suitable man and then their life can begin properly. Their only source of identity is as a chosen companion to that man. He will determine who she is, where she lives, what she's worth, what she needs. They only really exist in their reflection in men's eyes. They know perfectly well that most of these men are shits, but they never question the basic assumptions of their world. If they don't succeed on the terms of that world, they assume that the failure is their own--they have failed as women. They were too frigid or too easy, too accommodating or not accommodating enough, too needy or too independent, too sexy or not sexy enough, too pliant or too opinionated, too sophisticated or not sophisticated enough. If they sleep with a man, they were too easy and if they get pregnant they were clearly trying to trap a nice man into marriage. If they refuse to sleep with a man, they are cold and don't understand a man's needs. If they flirt, they are fickle and silly and contemptible, but if they don't flirt, they are insufficiently feminine and need to be brought down a peg or two. If they are clearly focussed on finding a husband, they're man-traps, but if they show no interest in getting married anytime soon, they are good-time girls who deserve whatever they get or career girls who are at risk of losing their feminine softness and appeal. And no matter what they do, they are always fair game for men. Men can paw them, corner them, stick their hands up their skirts, ask intrusive questions about their boyfriends, pour drinks into them to soften them up for sex, get on the floor at a company party and look up their skirts--and women have to dodge them without wounding their egos, protect themselves without making the men look bad, be good sports about it all, and examine their own behaviour for what might have encouraged the men to act like that. The game is rigged against them, but they don't fully understand that because the conceptual tools to think that way don't exist in their world. Each one just has to navigate the maze as best she can and hope to come out labelled a success. Wives disappear from the narrative because their stories are officially over now, but husbands just carry on as they always have because their identities haven't changed with marriage. If anyone ever suggests that feminism wasn't (and isn't) necessary, this book ought to provide sufficient rejoinder. Jaffe doesn't analyse any of this either, certainly not as anything like a system of power and gender roles; she just tells the story as she knows it. And it's a really great story. I love this book. And in case I've made it sound too dark, it's frequently pretty funny, too, in a very sharp-edged way.