2.5 stars but I don't feel comfortable rounding it up.
*
I need someone to explain the title to me because other than a reference to the protagonist’s first university sexual encounter being someone from her gender theory seminar, this book is quite gender normative and superficially queer.
I thought the use of second-person perspective was interesting and could have made for an impactful exploration of identity, both the protagonist’s queer identity, and being a woman with endometriosis. Unfortunately, the book fell into the trope of young women falling off the wagon because of [insert stereotype here]. In this case it’s the disappointment, shame, and loneliness that a person experiences because their body isn’t working as it should. While all of those feelings are natural and, you could even argue, normal, I’m tired of narratives that imply that a certain health condition is to blame for a character’s messiness, helplessness and dependence. It does people who live with those conditions a real disservice.
The protagonists' chronic illness/pain condition is coupled with not having a strong familial support system, or any type of support system outside of her friend Ella. It's never clearly explained why the protagonist doesn't have any other friends, and I dislike the implication that her endometriosis and uninvolved parents combo is to blame for her lack of friends. It's made clear throughout that the protagonist can make friends, however superficial, but she doesn't really have anyone outside of Ella and an ex-boyfriend who is, inexplicably, keen to support the protagonist long after they'd broken up. It's not the protagonist's unlikeability that I have an issue with, but it's the implied underlying reasons.
I don't think any of the above is helped by the fact that all of the characters, including the protagonist, are very underdeveloped. We don't know anything about Ella other than the fact that she is the protagonist's foil. We don't learn much about any of the other characters that the protagonist becomes involved with, either romantically or platonically. What we do learn is enough to emphasise how the protagonist has no real sense of self and moulds herself to whoever's company she's in.
Given that it's a short book, it can be forgiven that the secondary characters aren't as developed, but it's inexcusable to have such a flat protagonist. Despite repeated instances where her sexual orientation is discussed, the discussions and introspection remain very shallow. Nothing is explored through a queer lens. In fact, other than her relationship with Bertie and dalliances with women throughout, the protagonist is very gender normative. On two occasions, she fantasises about living a quaint, comfortable life with a male partner and their potential children. When endometriosis is considered a potential diagnosis for her gynaecological issues and pain, all that the protagonist worries about is her ability to have children because her (male) partner at the time really wants to have kids. I'm not saying that the protagonist was wrong to feel sad around potentially not being able to have kids, but at no point is this, or other issues, looked at through a queer lens.
I also felt conflicted about the fact that the protagonist only gets her life together after Ella sets boundaries in place. Again, the lack of introspection after each major event in her life was borderline unbelievable (I say borderline because I have met people who lack any self-awareness), but to go from being so uninvolved in her own life to suddenly doing a 180 and pulling her life together in the span of a few months felt a little unrealistic and too tidy. The 'breakup' with Ella wasn't the only turning point to be fair, the protagonist's appointment with a gynaecologist who truly listens and offers patient-centred care is another pivotal moment, and I can believe that finding relief and proper support for a condition that is as debilitating as endometriosis can have a profound effect on a person's life. BUT, this appointment with the gynaecologist only came after the breakup with Ella because Ella finally explicitly told her she's a bad friend and impassive about her life. I personally don't understand the reasoning behind this because the protagonist alludes to being aware that she's dependent on others, Ella especially, so she could have asked herself what they would have wanted to do at any point and therefore could have got the care and treatment she deserved earlier.
But what truly perplexed me, particularly considering the title, is that the protagonists finds meaning and purpose to her life after she accidentally falls into a nannying job. Considering a particular scene earlier on in the book and combined with the worry about having children while in a relationship with Rowan, it kind of rubbed me the wrong way. Oh, and again, it's a very gender normative thing considering the title is called GENDER THEORY.
Also! The queer characters that do feature feel very cliché and stereotypical. You've got the queer woman who is angry, very vocal about feminist issues, and will lecture people at any opportunity. Then you've got the queer man who takes drugs, parties and sleeps around until they find someone to try and have a serious relationship with (and the person they're dating ends up being a sleaze bag). It's just eww.
The reason I'm still swithering between 2 or 3 stars is because the book did do the following well:
1. Despite the implication that a chronic illness is partly to blame for a lot of the protagonist's poor life choices, the book did properly depict what life with a chronic illness can be like. More so when it comes to women's health. Gynaecological issues remain poorly understood because they're not properly researched or taught. There remains a lot of misinformation within the medical field around women's health, such as women not needing anaesthesia when inserting (or removing) and IUD, getting a cervix or uterus biopsy, etc. Medical gaslighting of women's symptoms and pain is also still majorly prevalent. I do think the book could have gone in more depth on what it's like to live with a chronic illness, especially through the use of the second-person perspective, but the little it did do was already incredibly (and sadly) accurate.
2. The writing style, while not for everyone, was captivating. I've seen many people describe this as a Scottish Sally Rooney, and I agree. Docherty has even emulated Rooney's preference to not use quotation marks or any other form of dialogue markers (a serious pet peeve of mine).
3. Lastly, while the characters were superficial and Ella did seem a bit like a tool to remind readers that the protagonist is in fact queer, I liked the complex yet supportive female friendship they had. It was nice seeing how a friendship can ebb and flow as we go through life, and it makes me wish more care was given to really developing the characters because this could have been a much better book otherwise.