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Yesteryear
A traditional, beautiful wife and mother who sells her pioneer lifestyle of raw milk and farm-fresh eggs to her millions of social media followers, suddenly awakens cold, filthy, and terrified in the brutal reality of 1805—where she must unravel whether this living nightmare is an elaborate hoax, a twisted reality show, or something far more sinister in this sensational debut novel.
My name was Natalie Heller Mills, and I was perfect at being alive.
Natalie lives a traditional lifestyle. Her charming farmhouse is rustic, her husband a handsome cowboy, her six children each more delightful than the last. So what if there are nannies and producers behind the scenes, her kitchen hiding industrial-grade fridges and ovens, her husband the Republican equivalent of a Kennedy? What Natalie’s followers—all 8 million of them—don’t know won’t hurt them. And The Angry Women? The privileged, Ivy League, coastal elite haters who call her an antifeminist iconoclast? They’re sick with jealousy. Because Natalie isn’t simply living the good life, she’s living the ideal—and just so happens to be building an empire from it.
Until one morning she wakes up in a life that isn’t hers. Her home, her husband, her children—they’re all familiar, but something’s off. Her kitchen is warmed by a sputtering fire rather than electricity, her children are dirty and strange, and her soft-handed husband is suddenly a competent farmer. Just yesterday Natalie was curating photos of homemade jam for her Instagram, and now she’s expected to haul firewood and handwash clothes until her fingers bleed. Has she become the unwitting star of a brutal reality show? Could it really be time travel? Is she being tested by God? By Satan? When Natalie suffers a brutal injury in the woods, she realizes two This is not her beautiful life, and she must escape by any means possible.
A gripping, electrifying novel that is as darkly funny as it is frightening, Yesteryear is a gimlet-eyed look at tradition, fame, faith, and the grand performance of womanhood.
My name was Natalie Heller Mills, and I was perfect at being alive.
Natalie lives a traditional lifestyle. Her charming farmhouse is rustic, her husband a handsome cowboy, her six children each more delightful than the last. So what if there are nannies and producers behind the scenes, her kitchen hiding industrial-grade fridges and ovens, her husband the Republican equivalent of a Kennedy? What Natalie’s followers—all 8 million of them—don’t know won’t hurt them. And The Angry Women? The privileged, Ivy League, coastal elite haters who call her an antifeminist iconoclast? They’re sick with jealousy. Because Natalie isn’t simply living the good life, she’s living the ideal—and just so happens to be building an empire from it.
Until one morning she wakes up in a life that isn’t hers. Her home, her husband, her children—they’re all familiar, but something’s off. Her kitchen is warmed by a sputtering fire rather than electricity, her children are dirty and strange, and her soft-handed husband is suddenly a competent farmer. Just yesterday Natalie was curating photos of homemade jam for her Instagram, and now she’s expected to haul firewood and handwash clothes until her fingers bleed. Has she become the unwitting star of a brutal reality show? Could it really be time travel? Is she being tested by God? By Satan? When Natalie suffers a brutal injury in the woods, she realizes two This is not her beautiful life, and she must escape by any means possible.
A gripping, electrifying novel that is as darkly funny as it is frightening, Yesteryear is a gimlet-eyed look at tradition, fame, faith, and the grand performance of womanhood.
592 pages, Paperback
First published April 7, 2026
About the author
Caro Claire Burke
1 book5,793 followersCaro Claire Burke received her Master's in Fine Arts from the Bennington Writing Seminars. She is the co-host of Diabolical Lies, a politics and culture podcast. Yesteryear is her first novel.
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April 7, 2026
Was this supposed to funny? Cause I didn't laugh.
Going in, I thought Yesteryear would be a slam dunk for me. But now I've found myself in the unexpected position of being just about the only one who didn't like it.
I thought this story was going to be about a traditional wife, one who wants to stay at home and revel in the domesticity of child rearing, cleaning, and cooking, all the while playing it up for the cameras of her social media account. And then one day, she actually wakes up in the 1800s and bumbles around, much to her consternation and our amusement. Now wouldn't that have been an interesting story? But instead, I got something else altogether.
You see, Natalie doesn't revel in the role. She only pretends to. Instead of spending her life doing what she actually enjoys, she inexplicably tortures herself into living a life she can't stand and faking her enjoyment of it, all the while looking down at every single person who doesn't adhere to her view of what a traditional woman should be. And so right off the bat, I'm confused. Because what exactly is the point here?
As is every story, it all comes down to the characters. And Natalie never gelled into a real, coherent one for me. She hates being a mother, but keeps having more kids. She hates farming, but insists on living on a farm. She doesn't like her husband, but screams at her sister for divorcing. And through it all, she documents every step for social media just so she can pretend some more. Yeah, I didn't get it.
There's a level of cynicism here that was hard to stomach. Natalie had a constant, internal dialogue of hate towards just about everyone who wasn't her, and it was painful to read. She viewed herself as a victim with no choice, even though every decision was hers the whole way through and she could've stopped at any time.
But Natalie isn't real, she's the creation of the author. So I feel like I'm forced to ask why Caro Claire Burke chose to write Natalie this way. It felt unnecessarily mean-spirited and cruel. Sure, there are women out there who want to have lots of kids and make every meal from scratch and let their husbands be the sole breadwinner of the family. But so what? I certainly wouldn't write a whole story just to make fun of them.
I understand this is supposed to be satire, but it really missed the mark. Satire isn't just the act of mocking. In order to be effective, it also has to say something of substance. But the problem here is that even when presented with a slew of worthwhile topics, the book instead chose to eschew them all in favor of returning again and again to focus how deranged Natalie is, all the while punishing her for her views.
When you go so over the top, you end up losing the humanity underneath, and it becomes harder to see these characters as real people. Instead of being subversive and feminist, this book actually reinforces the awful idea that women are crazy and can't be trusted to figure out what they really want.
And maybe that's at the crux of my negative feelings. When you create a character that's so spiteful and unhinged, you're essentially walking them down a path of mental illness. And I guess I just don't find yet another story about a woman acting crazy and being perceived as mentally ill to be that funny.
I'm looking at the wide gulf between my thoughts and everyone else's, and I'm honestly puzzled. Perhaps I read a different book. Or I just lack the sense of humor necessary to understand this one. Either way, I'm in the minority, so don't let me dissuade you from giving it a try.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
✧ Connect with me ✧ Instagram ✧
Going in, I thought Yesteryear would be a slam dunk for me. But now I've found myself in the unexpected position of being just about the only one who didn't like it.
I thought this story was going to be about a traditional wife, one who wants to stay at home and revel in the domesticity of child rearing, cleaning, and cooking, all the while playing it up for the cameras of her social media account. And then one day, she actually wakes up in the 1800s and bumbles around, much to her consternation and our amusement. Now wouldn't that have been an interesting story? But instead, I got something else altogether.
You see, Natalie doesn't revel in the role. She only pretends to. Instead of spending her life doing what she actually enjoys, she inexplicably tortures herself into living a life she can't stand and faking her enjoyment of it, all the while looking down at every single person who doesn't adhere to her view of what a traditional woman should be. And so right off the bat, I'm confused. Because what exactly is the point here?
As is every story, it all comes down to the characters. And Natalie never gelled into a real, coherent one for me. She hates being a mother, but keeps having more kids. She hates farming, but insists on living on a farm. She doesn't like her husband, but screams at her sister for divorcing. And through it all, she documents every step for social media just so she can pretend some more. Yeah, I didn't get it.
There's a level of cynicism here that was hard to stomach. Natalie had a constant, internal dialogue of hate towards just about everyone who wasn't her, and it was painful to read. She viewed herself as a victim with no choice, even though every decision was hers the whole way through and she could've stopped at any time.
But Natalie isn't real, she's the creation of the author. So I feel like I'm forced to ask why Caro Claire Burke chose to write Natalie this way. It felt unnecessarily mean-spirited and cruel. Sure, there are women out there who want to have lots of kids and make every meal from scratch and let their husbands be the sole breadwinner of the family. But so what? I certainly wouldn't write a whole story just to make fun of them.
I understand this is supposed to be satire, but it really missed the mark. Satire isn't just the act of mocking. In order to be effective, it also has to say something of substance. But the problem here is that even when presented with a slew of worthwhile topics, the book instead chose to eschew them all in favor of returning again and again to focus how deranged Natalie is, all the while punishing her for her views.
When you go so over the top, you end up losing the humanity underneath, and it becomes harder to see these characters as real people. Instead of being subversive and feminist, this book actually reinforces the awful idea that women are crazy and can't be trusted to figure out what they really want.
And maybe that's at the crux of my negative feelings. When you create a character that's so spiteful and unhinged, you're essentially walking them down a path of mental illness. And I guess I just don't find yet another story about a woman acting crazy and being perceived as mentally ill to be that funny.
I'm looking at the wide gulf between my thoughts and everyone else's, and I'm honestly puzzled. Perhaps I read a different book. Or I just lack the sense of humor necessary to understand this one. Either way, I'm in the minority, so don't let me dissuade you from giving it a try.
Your mother lies to you, and then you lie to your children, and then your children lie to their children, and then you are an old woman, looking back at your own life, lying to yourself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
✧ Connect with me ✧ Instagram ✧
April 7, 2026
WARNING: This is a “brain-on” review with (hidden) spoilers, as I am mentally unable to “turn my brain off” while reading anything.
Yesteryear has one of the most compelling premises I’ve come across: a wildly successful tradwife influencer is forced to actually live the life she sells to millions. It promises satire and a biting critique of gender roles and performance. But despite that strong setup, the novel is underdeveloped, structurally uneven, and thematically hesitant, especially once the full picture comes into focus.
At the start,
For a while, this works. Watching her struggle—physically, emotionally, socially—has a brutal clarity. The fantasy collapses under the weight of reality: domestic labor is exhausting, dependence is dangerous, and the patriarchal structure she once aestheticized becomes suffocating. This is the novel at its strongest, where the premise and its implications are most aligned.
But the "twist" fundamentally reshapes the narrative—and not, in my opinion, for the better.
By the end, it’s revealed that
This reveal shifts the novel away from What initially reads as a confrontation with ideology (i.e., “live the life you promote”) becomes a story about
Instead of interrogating the tradwife phenomenon as a set of choices, incentives, and power structures, the book reframes it as something emerging from . And while both are contributing factors, doing the former would have actually made it the "bold and biting satire" others are claiming it to be, and opting for the latter created a trivialized, watered-down spectacle that will undoubtedly (and successfully) sell to the masses on nothing more than its concept—unfortunate, but expected and not at all surprising.
The novel sidesteps one of its most interesting and important questions: what does it mean to choose this life, to profit from it, and to promote it to others? Natalie is not simply trapped—she is also a builder and beneficiary of the system. She cultivates the brand, monetizes it, and helps reinforce the very ideals that later “trap” her. Yet the narrative doesn’t fully grapple with that complicity. Instead, it increasingly positions her as a victim: of her upbringing, her husband’s family, her audience, and her own mind.
The softens the critique, transforming what could have been an examination of agency into something closer to a .
This is where the book’s lack of depth becomes most apparent. It raises big ideas—patriarchy, religion, influencer capitalism—but doesn’t sustain a rigorous exploration of them. The 1855 world, which could function as a material critique of gendered labor and dependence, becomes symbolic instead. And while symbolism can be powerful, in Yesteryear it feels like a retreat from the harder, more uncomfortable questions about compliancy, participation, and power.
Structurally, the novel doesn’t fully support its ambitions either. The shifting timelines and genre blending (contemporary, speculative, psychological, thriller, mystery, etc.) was disjointed and propped up the ambiguity surrounding what is “real” versus constructed; it might be intentional, but it read as messy and confusing rather than as a methodical storytelling approach. By the time the ending arrives, any and all stakes had dissipated.
It’s also worth examining how the book engages with its subject matter on a broader cultural level. Yesteryear clearly wants to critique the tradwife phenomenon, but its approach aligns with a familiar pattern associated with white neoliberal feminism: an emphasis on individual experience and suffering over systemic analysis and accountability.
The novel centers Natalie’s distress—her loss of control, her psychological fragmentation, her suffering within patriarchal constraints. But it doesn’t fully interrogate how she participates in and perpetuates those constraints, particularly as someone with social and economic power; her platform reaches millions, her content shapes norms, and her brand generates profit. These dynamics are acknowledged, but not deeply examined in terms of how her financial incentives, validation from primarily female but also male audiences, and cultural influence actively reinforce the system she's depicted to be trapped within, or how her choices contribute to normalizing and sustaining those same oppressive structures for others, especially those who can't monetize it.
As a result, the critique is flattened into something more comfortable: the tradwife as victim rather than as an active participant in a broader ideological, social, and economic system. Missing is a sustained engagement with questions like:
(1) Who benefits from these narratives, and how?
(2) What responsibility do influencers bear in promoting regressive ideals?
(3) How do race, class, gender, and privilege shape who gets to “opt into” this lifestyle?
Without this layer, the novel’s themes are tepid at best, and contrived, willful blindness and ignorance at worst. It exposes the illusion of the lifestyle, but stops short of fully dissecting the structures and actions that sustain it.
The idea of Yesteryear is undeniably intriguing, and it taps into a very current cultural conversation, but it's ultimately a book that either pulls its punches or had no punches to throw to begin with. The scope is painfully narrow, turning a potentially sharp, satirical systemic critique into a more familiar narrative of individual collapse meant for a good time but not much else.
It’s not that the book has nothing to say, it’s that it doesn’t say enough, or with enough clarity, to match the strength of its premise. For a story built on such a rich and provocative idea, the gaps are too great, too relevant, and too important for me to ignore.
Readers who enjoyed Girl Dinner by Olivie Blake and/or The Once and Future Me by Melissa Pace may have a good time with this, I suppose.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Yesteryear has one of the most compelling premises I’ve come across: a wildly successful tradwife influencer is forced to actually live the life she sells to millions. It promises satire and a biting critique of gender roles and performance. But despite that strong setup, the novel is underdeveloped, structurally uneven, and thematically hesitant, especially once the full picture comes into focus.
At the start,
For a while, this works. Watching her struggle—physically, emotionally, socially—has a brutal clarity. The fantasy collapses under the weight of reality: domestic labor is exhausting, dependence is dangerous, and the patriarchal structure she once aestheticized becomes suffocating. This is the novel at its strongest, where the premise and its implications are most aligned.
But the "twist" fundamentally reshapes the narrative—and not, in my opinion, for the better.
By the end, it’s revealed that
This reveal shifts the novel away from What initially reads as a confrontation with ideology (i.e., “live the life you promote”) becomes a story about
Instead of interrogating the tradwife phenomenon as a set of choices, incentives, and power structures, the book reframes it as something emerging from . And while both are contributing factors, doing the former would have actually made it the "bold and biting satire" others are claiming it to be, and opting for the latter created a trivialized, watered-down spectacle that will undoubtedly (and successfully) sell to the masses on nothing more than its concept—unfortunate, but expected and not at all surprising.
The novel sidesteps one of its most interesting and important questions: what does it mean to choose this life, to profit from it, and to promote it to others? Natalie is not simply trapped—she is also a builder and beneficiary of the system. She cultivates the brand, monetizes it, and helps reinforce the very ideals that later “trap” her. Yet the narrative doesn’t fully grapple with that complicity. Instead, it increasingly positions her as a victim: of her upbringing, her husband’s family, her audience, and her own mind.
The softens the critique, transforming what could have been an examination of agency into something closer to a .
This is where the book’s lack of depth becomes most apparent. It raises big ideas—patriarchy, religion, influencer capitalism—but doesn’t sustain a rigorous exploration of them. The 1855 world, which could function as a material critique of gendered labor and dependence, becomes symbolic instead. And while symbolism can be powerful, in Yesteryear it feels like a retreat from the harder, more uncomfortable questions about compliancy, participation, and power.
Structurally, the novel doesn’t fully support its ambitions either. The shifting timelines and genre blending (contemporary, speculative, psychological, thriller, mystery, etc.) was disjointed and propped up the ambiguity surrounding what is “real” versus constructed; it might be intentional, but it read as messy and confusing rather than as a methodical storytelling approach. By the time the ending arrives, any and all stakes had dissipated.
It’s also worth examining how the book engages with its subject matter on a broader cultural level. Yesteryear clearly wants to critique the tradwife phenomenon, but its approach aligns with a familiar pattern associated with white neoliberal feminism: an emphasis on individual experience and suffering over systemic analysis and accountability.
The novel centers Natalie’s distress—her loss of control, her psychological fragmentation, her suffering within patriarchal constraints. But it doesn’t fully interrogate how she participates in and perpetuates those constraints, particularly as someone with social and economic power; her platform reaches millions, her content shapes norms, and her brand generates profit. These dynamics are acknowledged, but not deeply examined in terms of how her financial incentives, validation from primarily female but also male audiences, and cultural influence actively reinforce the system she's depicted to be trapped within, or how her choices contribute to normalizing and sustaining those same oppressive structures for others, especially those who can't monetize it.
As a result, the critique is flattened into something more comfortable: the tradwife as victim rather than as an active participant in a broader ideological, social, and economic system. Missing is a sustained engagement with questions like:
(1) Who benefits from these narratives, and how?
(2) What responsibility do influencers bear in promoting regressive ideals?
(3) How do race, class, gender, and privilege shape who gets to “opt into” this lifestyle?
Without this layer, the novel’s themes are tepid at best, and contrived, willful blindness and ignorance at worst. It exposes the illusion of the lifestyle, but stops short of fully dissecting the structures and actions that sustain it.
The idea of Yesteryear is undeniably intriguing, and it taps into a very current cultural conversation, but it's ultimately a book that either pulls its punches or had no punches to throw to begin with. The scope is painfully narrow, turning a potentially sharp, satirical systemic critique into a more familiar narrative of individual collapse meant for a good time but not much else.
It’s not that the book has nothing to say, it’s that it doesn’t say enough, or with enough clarity, to match the strength of its premise. For a story built on such a rich and provocative idea, the gaps are too great, too relevant, and too important for me to ignore.
Readers who enjoyed Girl Dinner by Olivie Blake and/or The Once and Future Me by Melissa Pace may have a good time with this, I suppose.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
January 18, 2026
Honestly, this is one of the most mind bending reading experiences I have had in a long time. When I finished this book, my head was spinning. I felt stunned, unsettled, confused, deeply shaken, and yet ultimately impressed because what I thought I was signing up for was not at all what I actually received.
Based on the blurb, the premise initially reads like an intriguing time travel fantasy blended with women’s fiction. We meet Natalie Heller Mills, a glossy, picture perfect YouTuber and influencer documenting her idyllic farm life with her husband and five children, with a sixth on the way. One morning she wakes up in the same house, but it is no longer the renovated farmhouse she knows. Instead, she is suddenly transported to 1805, surrounded by dirt, hardship, firewood for heat, hand washed clothes, poverty, and a rougher, older version of her husband. There is no electricity, no comfort, no safety net, just brutal pioneer reality. At first this feels like a nightmare she desperately wants to wake up from, and I assumed the story would follow a straightforward magical or historical fantasy path. I could not have been more wrong.
Once the novel reaches its second half, the true nature of the story becomes chillingly clear. I do not want to spoil anything, but there is a moment so shocking that I literally stopped reading and stared at the page. The final twist left me reeling and reminded me strongly of the real life Ruby Franke and Jodi Hildebrandt case, including their multimillion dollar mansion and horrific revelations. I highly recommend reading about that case after finishing this book, because the parallels are haunting.
Yes, the book is long, but I was never bored. The central mystery revolves around why Natalie, a devout Christian, manic pixie style tradwife figure with eight million followers, becomes the target of angry online critics, Ivy League elites, and social media activists who label her anti feminist. Suddenly finding herself trapped in a Little House on the Prairie style past, she must figure out how to survive and whether she can return to her real life.Interwoven with this is Natalie’s backstory. We learn how she earned a scholarship to Harvard but struggled to fit into the elite academic world because of her sheltered upbringing and strict moral values instilled by her widowed mother. Her life motto is always be nice, even as rage and resentment quietly simmer beneath the surface. Then she meets Caleb, a man from a large conservative patriarchal family with secrets of their own.
After marriage, Natalie realizes Caleb is intellectually lazy, spoiled, and completely disconnected from real labor or responsibility. When she suggests starting a farm as his “project,” she thinks she is helping him find purpose. Instead, it becomes her own empire, complete with millions of followers, brand deals, hired nannies, and a 21 year old producer named Shannon documenting every moment of her supposedly perfect life.This book will absolutely spark political and cultural debate. It is sharp satire, but also a chilling reflection of real world extremism disguised as family values.
Natalie is deeply flawed and often unlikable, but she is never a cartoon villain. You may hate her choices, but the novel pushes you to understand how she became this way.What frustrated me most was that I disliked almost every character. Caleb is painfully ignorant. His father Doug is predatory and manipulative. His mother is emotionally broken. Even Natalie’s own family and producer Shannon, despite her good intentions, drove me crazy. That is why I deducted one star.
Still, the book is unforgettable.Natalie’s voice is fascinating. She is obsessed with being good, likable, obedient, and morally pure, yet those very traits trap her in misery. The novel brilliantly shows how everyone in this story believes they are right while being deeply wrong at the same time. They are all both victims and villains of their own choices.The final twist is wild, slightly far fetched, but devastatingly effective.
The emotional conclusion stayed with me long after I finished. I truly believe this will be one of the most talked about, provocative, and controversial books of the year, and I would not be surprised if it becomes a television series.Even if you find Natalie unbearable, you should still read this book. It is a sharp mirror of today’s social media culture, political polarization, religious extremism, family dysfunction, and most importantly, mental health. It is challenging, uncomfortable, brilliant, and unforgettable.
A very huge thank you to NetGalley and Penguin Random House Knopf for providing me with this intellectually electrifying and deeply thought provoking digital review copy in exchange for my honest opinion.
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Based on the blurb, the premise initially reads like an intriguing time travel fantasy blended with women’s fiction. We meet Natalie Heller Mills, a glossy, picture perfect YouTuber and influencer documenting her idyllic farm life with her husband and five children, with a sixth on the way. One morning she wakes up in the same house, but it is no longer the renovated farmhouse she knows. Instead, she is suddenly transported to 1805, surrounded by dirt, hardship, firewood for heat, hand washed clothes, poverty, and a rougher, older version of her husband. There is no electricity, no comfort, no safety net, just brutal pioneer reality. At first this feels like a nightmare she desperately wants to wake up from, and I assumed the story would follow a straightforward magical or historical fantasy path. I could not have been more wrong.
Once the novel reaches its second half, the true nature of the story becomes chillingly clear. I do not want to spoil anything, but there is a moment so shocking that I literally stopped reading and stared at the page. The final twist left me reeling and reminded me strongly of the real life Ruby Franke and Jodi Hildebrandt case, including their multimillion dollar mansion and horrific revelations. I highly recommend reading about that case after finishing this book, because the parallels are haunting.
Yes, the book is long, but I was never bored. The central mystery revolves around why Natalie, a devout Christian, manic pixie style tradwife figure with eight million followers, becomes the target of angry online critics, Ivy League elites, and social media activists who label her anti feminist. Suddenly finding herself trapped in a Little House on the Prairie style past, she must figure out how to survive and whether she can return to her real life.Interwoven with this is Natalie’s backstory. We learn how she earned a scholarship to Harvard but struggled to fit into the elite academic world because of her sheltered upbringing and strict moral values instilled by her widowed mother. Her life motto is always be nice, even as rage and resentment quietly simmer beneath the surface. Then she meets Caleb, a man from a large conservative patriarchal family with secrets of their own.
After marriage, Natalie realizes Caleb is intellectually lazy, spoiled, and completely disconnected from real labor or responsibility. When she suggests starting a farm as his “project,” she thinks she is helping him find purpose. Instead, it becomes her own empire, complete with millions of followers, brand deals, hired nannies, and a 21 year old producer named Shannon documenting every moment of her supposedly perfect life.This book will absolutely spark political and cultural debate. It is sharp satire, but also a chilling reflection of real world extremism disguised as family values.
Natalie is deeply flawed and often unlikable, but she is never a cartoon villain. You may hate her choices, but the novel pushes you to understand how she became this way.What frustrated me most was that I disliked almost every character. Caleb is painfully ignorant. His father Doug is predatory and manipulative. His mother is emotionally broken. Even Natalie’s own family and producer Shannon, despite her good intentions, drove me crazy. That is why I deducted one star.
Still, the book is unforgettable.Natalie’s voice is fascinating. She is obsessed with being good, likable, obedient, and morally pure, yet those very traits trap her in misery. The novel brilliantly shows how everyone in this story believes they are right while being deeply wrong at the same time. They are all both victims and villains of their own choices.The final twist is wild, slightly far fetched, but devastatingly effective.
The emotional conclusion stayed with me long after I finished. I truly believe this will be one of the most talked about, provocative, and controversial books of the year, and I would not be surprised if it becomes a television series.Even if you find Natalie unbearable, you should still read this book. It is a sharp mirror of today’s social media culture, political polarization, religious extremism, family dysfunction, and most importantly, mental health. It is challenging, uncomfortable, brilliant, and unforgettable.
A very huge thank you to NetGalley and Penguin Random House Knopf for providing me with this intellectually electrifying and deeply thought provoking digital review copy in exchange for my honest opinion.
Follow me on medium.com to read my articles about books, movies, streaming series, astrology:
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Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
And who was I?
A flawless Christian woman. The manic pixie American dream girl of this nation's deepest, darkest fantasies. The mother every woman wanted to be, and the wife every man wanted to come home to. Like a nun in a porno, it didn't make sense, but also, by God: it worked.
4 1/2 stars. I keep flitting back and forth between 4 and 5 because this book gets pretty deranged in the last quarter or so. Did I love the ending? Was it too nuts? A bit of both? Either way, the journey there was excellent. What a fabulous cultural critique wrapped up in a pageturner.
As what Natalie would call an Angry Woman™, I found this book absolutely delicious. After reading the premise, I thought it might be a story about an airhead unknowingly romanticising being a tradwife and getting schooled in the reality when she finds herself whisked back to the 1800s. But actually it's better because Natalie knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s known all along that the image she sells is completely fake.
'It's a performance, Shannon. It's political theatre. Not real.'
[…]
'Do you honestly think there are no consequences to performance?'
This is definitely not one for those who need to actually like their narrator. Through Natalie, the book viciously goes after the women lying to cameras to convince an impressionable audience that being a “tradwife” is romantic and an antidote to whatever they dislike about modern America. These women are not stupid and they are NOT traditional wives, they are businesswomen, charlatans, and snake oil saleswomen. It is very satisfying to see one of them get the life they claim to sell.
And yet, while unlikable, I find Natalie very fun unlikable. I'm talking June from Yellowface, Sam from Idol, unlikable. That particular breed that is aware they’re kinda shit, but also defensive of their behaviour. Natalie is very much caught up in her own cult of personality and is a conniving bitch. Yet... I was fully invested in her story. Perhaps because some of her frustrations with the world are genuinely relatable; perhaps because she is actually quite funny.
I had not been prepared for sex to feel and to look like Caleb's penis did, which was fine in girth and length but lacked the fortitude to enter me of its own accord. I felt like I needed to throw a dish towel over his penis and wait an hour to let it rise.
The story alternates between the 21st century— where we see Natalie starting a family alongside building her online brand —and her struggling through pioneer life in the 1800s, and it covers a LOT. Themes of performance vs reality, platforming children who can’t consent, the danger of venerating the past, conspiracy theories, the manosphere.
What I liked most was the complex profile of blame the author created. It would have been easy to be lazy and put the blame on misogyny or particular political figures, but it goes deeper than that and explores reasons why a woman might become Natalie, and why other women might buy into the dream she sells. Liberal women tearing into homemakers don’t escape criticism either.
As mentioned, the ending is wild. But, after some thought, I think I love it. MAJOR SPOILER:
April 15, 2026
Is this a social experiment? This book is objectively REALLY bad. It’s the epitome of going so far left that you end up right. The structure was messy and confusing and the writing itself was quite poor— which was possibly intentional, but it felt like I was reading someone’s ramblings the entire time. There’s a lot of rants and rages sprinkled throughout that feel overdone and over-explained. Our main character is unwell, so I’ll give the author the benefit of the doubt for that one, but…
SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE BOOK
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Even when the point the author is coming to is “correct,”it isn’t a fully-formed, multi-faceted point. And nay a sliver of nuance in sight. The reason for this, is that ALL of the themes of this book— traditional femininity, motherhood, domestic life, religion, fame, influencer/social media culture, etc… Are written as caricatures. Even the main character and her husband don’t seem like real people. They’re cartoonish and embellished to the point where I didn’t take them seriously. I understand that this is marketed as satire… But is it really satire? Why include all of these themes in a book and never expand upon them? Isn’t that why we read in the first place? Several REAL people come to mind when I read this book, as the author has made very clear that she has read a bunch of snark subreddit posts written by (you guessed it!) “angry women” to help herself with describing what exactly the collective doesn’t like about these influencers and why they’re so problematic.
The protagonist is meant to be extremely unlikable, but why is she the villain? Any woman in 2026 knows Natalie isn’t the real villain in this story, so why does it seem like the author is priming the audience to fully accept and CHEER FOR the idea that the punishment for the crimes of a severely mislead, emotionally/mentally abused, manipulated, young woman experiencing postpartum depression is…. Domestic violence, an extra marital affair, and being drugged her for YEARS without her consent? Why is the woman the only one being punished for the monster she became due to the patriarchy?
She remains a victim of the patriarchy that has been abusing her since birth to the very bitter end… When she has forgotten a decade of her life, been cut off from her entire family, had all of her children taken away, and put in jail for 30 years. Caleb was just at fault for what happened, if not MORE due to his crimes against her and the children while she was quite literally being drugged for a decade. Did we get to see his punishment? NOPE. So much for “feminist literature” written by what many reviewers perceive as a “feminist icon.”
The premise was fine, but the execution was terrible and dare I say, extremely harmful. I mean, HELLO? Are we wanting to make new mothers scared to take meds when they’re struggling mentally postpartum? (Because uh oh! They might end up forgetting an entire decade of their life and think they time traveled!) Are we not wanting women to not have children in the first place because having children is when their life is over? Are women supposed to stop expecting more from their male partners and do everything alone because all men are bad? OR should we just hate all women for simply existing and doing what makes them happy and just accept that we’re in a man’s world? I mean seriously… This rhetoric is beyond damaging and I am so mad.
I’ll end this review by saying: ANY book that ends with multiple children being neglected, abused, malnourished, and traumatized forever to make an extremely obvious point is inherently NOT feminist.
SPOILERS AHEAD FOR THE BOOK
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Even when the point the author is coming to is “correct,”it isn’t a fully-formed, multi-faceted point. And nay a sliver of nuance in sight. The reason for this, is that ALL of the themes of this book— traditional femininity, motherhood, domestic life, religion, fame, influencer/social media culture, etc… Are written as caricatures. Even the main character and her husband don’t seem like real people. They’re cartoonish and embellished to the point where I didn’t take them seriously. I understand that this is marketed as satire… But is it really satire? Why include all of these themes in a book and never expand upon them? Isn’t that why we read in the first place? Several REAL people come to mind when I read this book, as the author has made very clear that she has read a bunch of snark subreddit posts written by (you guessed it!) “angry women” to help herself with describing what exactly the collective doesn’t like about these influencers and why they’re so problematic.
The protagonist is meant to be extremely unlikable, but why is she the villain? Any woman in 2026 knows Natalie isn’t the real villain in this story, so why does it seem like the author is priming the audience to fully accept and CHEER FOR the idea that the punishment for the crimes of a severely mislead, emotionally/mentally abused, manipulated, young woman experiencing postpartum depression is…. Domestic violence, an extra marital affair, and being drugged her for YEARS without her consent? Why is the woman the only one being punished for the monster she became due to the patriarchy?
She remains a victim of the patriarchy that has been abusing her since birth to the very bitter end… When she has forgotten a decade of her life, been cut off from her entire family, had all of her children taken away, and put in jail for 30 years. Caleb was just at fault for what happened, if not MORE due to his crimes against her and the children while she was quite literally being drugged for a decade. Did we get to see his punishment? NOPE. So much for “feminist literature” written by what many reviewers perceive as a “feminist icon.”
The premise was fine, but the execution was terrible and dare I say, extremely harmful. I mean, HELLO? Are we wanting to make new mothers scared to take meds when they’re struggling mentally postpartum? (Because uh oh! They might end up forgetting an entire decade of their life and think they time traveled!) Are we not wanting women to not have children in the first place because having children is when their life is over? Are women supposed to stop expecting more from their male partners and do everything alone because all men are bad? OR should we just hate all women for simply existing and doing what makes them happy and just accept that we’re in a man’s world? I mean seriously… This rhetoric is beyond damaging and I am so mad.
I’ll end this review by saying: ANY book that ends with multiple children being neglected, abused, malnourished, and traumatized forever to make an extremely obvious point is inherently NOT feminist.
August 21, 2026
This book made me angry, but I think that was the point
We follow Natalie who has millions of followers on socials as she portrays this perfect life, but behind the scenes she has a producer, and lots of help (nothing is as perfect as she's making it out to be). She then gets sent back in time and has to live as an actual trad wife - which is a complete shock to her (obviously)
Following such an unlikeable character with absolutely no growth did get frustrating, and the middle of the book lost me a bit (it started feeling repetitive). But I was hooked in the beginning + the end. I'd recommend the audiobook of this one! I listened to majority of it
We follow Natalie who has millions of followers on socials as she portrays this perfect life, but behind the scenes she has a producer, and lots of help (nothing is as perfect as she's making it out to be). She then gets sent back in time and has to live as an actual trad wife - which is a complete shock to her (obviously)
Following such an unlikeable character with absolutely no growth did get frustrating, and the middle of the book lost me a bit (it started feeling repetitive). But I was hooked in the beginning + the end. I'd recommend the audiobook of this one! I listened to majority of it
March 10, 2026
In short, nothing about this story worked. It is, frankly, a mean-spirited revenge fantasy against a strawman the author made up. For a story like this to work, when you’re introduced to the character, they have to come across as a real person. I recognize this is satire, but that doesn’t remove the need for character development. From the beginning, you’re clearly supposed to find the FMC a terrible person and a joke. Look how awful she is! Isn’t it funny? Wouldn’t it be great to see her get what she deserves? Maybe an abusive husband and severe physical and psychological trauma? Wouldn’t that be so satisfying? No, actually!
And to make it worse, the author beats you over the head with what they want you to think; there’s no nuance, no reading between the lines. Social commentary along the lines of sexism, classism, racism, etc etc are tossed in at random then left untouched and undeveloped. It felt more like the author wanted to throw in topics for brownie points, considering she didn’t bother to explore any of them that she bothered to use beyond a zinger sentence. And, ultimately, when the story ends, there’s no point. Anything the story could’ve been building to is thrown away in favor of a “twist” ending.
The author is, I am assuming, very young. This is not a bad thing, but they do fall into the trend of people in their younger 20s assuming everything pre-2020 was an amalgamated dark age. This is most prevalent in the college flashbacks—from what I can tell, these take place around 2010, but the author seems to think 2010 was the 90s. Someone has a straight-from-the-80s AIDS scare. The FMC, a sophomore at Harvard, gets the latest hot new technology that no one around her has yet: a cell phone. A flip phone, even. I gaslit myself so hard on when cell phones became the norm that I had to google when the iphone released and check with friends to make sure I wasn’t going crazy. Sure, yes, minor complaint overall, but god did this drive me crazy.
The author is also, I’m assuming, neither religious nor has any real background with religion. Again, this is fine—you don’t have to write solely from your own experiences—but as someone who was raised conservative and religious but is no longer either, it’s abundantly clear that the author didn’t do a whole lot of research. Her main character is a caricature already, so maybe it’s to be expected, but the story relies very heavily on stereotypes.
In my experience, satire is supposed to say something, not just be an overt open mocking. I understand why this book will be popular, especially considering modern trends in literature, but all the positive reviews make me feel like someone’s trying to prank me a little bit.
EDIT: gentle reminder that this book is marketed as satire and that’s why i refer to it as satire ❤️
And to make it worse, the author beats you over the head with what they want you to think; there’s no nuance, no reading between the lines. Social commentary along the lines of sexism, classism, racism, etc etc are tossed in at random then left untouched and undeveloped. It felt more like the author wanted to throw in topics for brownie points, considering she didn’t bother to explore any of them that she bothered to use beyond a zinger sentence. And, ultimately, when the story ends, there’s no point. Anything the story could’ve been building to is thrown away in favor of a “twist” ending.
The author is, I am assuming, very young. This is not a bad thing, but they do fall into the trend of people in their younger 20s assuming everything pre-2020 was an amalgamated dark age. This is most prevalent in the college flashbacks—from what I can tell, these take place around 2010, but the author seems to think 2010 was the 90s. Someone has a straight-from-the-80s AIDS scare. The FMC, a sophomore at Harvard, gets the latest hot new technology that no one around her has yet: a cell phone. A flip phone, even. I gaslit myself so hard on when cell phones became the norm that I had to google when the iphone released and check with friends to make sure I wasn’t going crazy. Sure, yes, minor complaint overall, but god did this drive me crazy.
The author is also, I’m assuming, neither religious nor has any real background with religion. Again, this is fine—you don’t have to write solely from your own experiences—but as someone who was raised conservative and religious but is no longer either, it’s abundantly clear that the author didn’t do a whole lot of research. Her main character is a caricature already, so maybe it’s to be expected, but the story relies very heavily on stereotypes.
In my experience, satire is supposed to say something, not just be an overt open mocking. I understand why this book will be popular, especially considering modern trends in literature, but all the positive reviews make me feel like someone’s trying to prank me a little bit.
EDIT: gentle reminder that this book is marketed as satire and that’s why i refer to it as satire ❤️
April 20, 2026
RATING BREAKDOWN
Characters: 4⭐️
Setting: 4⭐️
Plot: 5⭐️
Themes: 5⭐️
Emotional Impact: 4⭐️
Personal Enjoyment: 5⭐️
Total Rounded Average: 4.5⭐️
Yesteryear was impossible for me to put down. A masterclass in point of view. Natalie, the protagonist, is an incredibly layered and complex character. Simultaneously villainous and the victim, she is so captivating. I always understood and rooted for her, even when she made horrible decisions and felt and thought things she shouldn't.
This novel does so much at once; it will be perfect for book clubs and buddy reads. There is a MEGA TON to unpack here. I could spend hours just dissecting the technical construction of this book and how Burke wove the timelines, the narrative structure, the themes, and the plot twists so expertly. But even more juicy are the themes! My god! Where to begin? Toxic femininity, toxic masculinity, performative womanhood, fame, postpartum depression, faith, religion, conspiracy theory culture, the idyllic tradwife vs. the career woman, mental health, I could go on and on and on. It's so layered. There's so much to think about and discuss, and somehow it doesn't feel convoluted. It's just believably murky and messy.
Ultimately, this was a disturbing and confronting novel, especially because I am a content creator and make a living online. It was entertaining, addictive, original, and so sharp it felt dangerous. Extremely impressive. Very disturbing. I'll recommend it to anyone willing to dive into a psychological thriller that also serves up a decadent portion of social commentary.
Characters: 4⭐️
Setting: 4⭐️
Plot: 5⭐️
Themes: 5⭐️
Emotional Impact: 4⭐️
Personal Enjoyment: 5⭐️
Total Rounded Average: 4.5⭐️
Yesteryear was impossible for me to put down. A masterclass in point of view. Natalie, the protagonist, is an incredibly layered and complex character. Simultaneously villainous and the victim, she is so captivating. I always understood and rooted for her, even when she made horrible decisions and felt and thought things she shouldn't.
This novel does so much at once; it will be perfect for book clubs and buddy reads. There is a MEGA TON to unpack here. I could spend hours just dissecting the technical construction of this book and how Burke wove the timelines, the narrative structure, the themes, and the plot twists so expertly. But even more juicy are the themes! My god! Where to begin? Toxic femininity, toxic masculinity, performative womanhood, fame, postpartum depression, faith, religion, conspiracy theory culture, the idyllic tradwife vs. the career woman, mental health, I could go on and on and on. It's so layered. There's so much to think about and discuss, and somehow it doesn't feel convoluted. It's just believably murky and messy.
Ultimately, this was a disturbing and confronting novel, especially because I am a content creator and make a living online. It was entertaining, addictive, original, and so sharp it felt dangerous. Extremely impressive. Very disturbing. I'll recommend it to anyone willing to dive into a psychological thriller that also serves up a decadent portion of social commentary.
May 31, 2026
most bookclubbable book of the year so far for good reason! sharp, even if it’s not remotely subtle.
notable that the focus is more on Natalie's history and character than it is on the blurbed time travel back to the 1800s. i think the biggest weakness this book has is that it’s written didactically, more for people who already agree with its themes to nod along and think “well yes! that is, in fact, pretty fucking bananas!” than for those who want a more complicated story to sink their teeth into. there are portions of the story where that’s not true (shannon, for example, is a fascinating and grey character imo), but generally that tendency in combination with an ending that felt contrived to maximize drama meant that even though parts of this were a 5 star, extremely entertaining reading experience, my overall rating ended up closer to 3.5 or 4 stars.
still worth reading if only to have a pretty good time and form an Opinion on it!
notable that the focus is more on Natalie's history and character than it is on the blurbed time travel back to the 1800s. i think the biggest weakness this book has is that it’s written didactically, more for people who already agree with its themes to nod along and think “well yes! that is, in fact, pretty fucking bananas!” than for those who want a more complicated story to sink their teeth into. there are portions of the story where that’s not true (shannon, for example, is a fascinating and grey character imo), but generally that tendency in combination with an ending that felt contrived to maximize drama meant that even though parts of this were a 5 star, extremely entertaining reading experience, my overall rating ended up closer to 3.5 or 4 stars.
still worth reading if only to have a pretty good time and form an Opinion on it!
April 7, 2026
I really thought this book was not good. The structure and story framework were a mess. The book was way too long. There were so many pieces that were not dealt with in the end. The way the reveal was revealed was annoying and detached from the book. From a character development standpoint (and I love an unlikable main character) our trad wife had no clear ideology for herself. It felt as if the author hated her and she never created a fully realized woman. I just thought the book was a mess and offered no original or nuanced critique of influencing or conservative aesthetics besides a surface level analysis. It wasn't satire it was a bit.
April 12, 2026
4.5!! What. A. Ride!! I could have read 100 more pages of this story, especially the last 20% 🤯 It lost me for a bit in the middle, but it was such a ride and one that I definitely did not want to get off of lol. Main character Natalie is an influencer that shares her traditional, homesteading lifestyle online, but what happens when she wakes up one morning back in the 1800s, actually living the life she’s portraying online?
Saying anything more will spoil it, but just trust me it is a WILD ride!
Saying anything more will spoil it, but just trust me it is a WILD ride!
April 18, 2026
Tradwife culture meets "Shutter Island" with a dash of Amy from "Gone Girl". The protagonist (heroine is the wrong word) is frankly despicable but that doesn't mean her cutting observations on the pressure of being female and living up under the weight of expectation on women doesn't have a bite of wince-inducing truth. Toxic and mesmerizing--I'll be thinking about this one for a long time.
April 22, 2026
Phenomenal. Thought-provoking. Mind-bending. RIVETING. When I tell you I could not put this book down for anything!!! I was so enthralled.
I pretty much read it in 2 sittings, and now my brain feels scrambled in the best way but I’ll be thinking about this one for a loooong time. If you’re curious about this book at all, READ IT!
I pretty much read it in 2 sittings, and now my brain feels scrambled in the best way but I’ll be thinking about this one for a loooong time. If you’re curious about this book at all, READ IT!
May 20, 2026
I would’ve finished this in a day or two if I had the time. What a wild ride this one is/was. So different than any other book I’ve read & I appreciate that. This book will make you think about so many aspects of where we are today. Highly recommend.
February 17, 2026
am I being gaslit? 4.23 average review on Goodreads? holy ragebait
June 21, 2026
Gimme a minute
July 14, 2026
well, that went about how i expected.
full review on substack
full review on substack
April 25, 2026
So unique and interesting - definitely the right kind of *weird* for me
March 30, 2026
Aaaahh, this is one more novel that's fun to discuss on the content level, but it's even more fun to incorporate the reception, because once more, people can't differentiate between a character and the author, and between the message of the book and the convictions of its protagonist: Is it an increasing phenomenon that readers need books to spell it out to them what to think? Half His Age and Yesteryear really make the BookTok crowd (and some GR reviewers) look bad. So let's dive into this rant:
Burke's novel is told from the perspective of Natalie, a young woman studying at Harvard who was raised with conservative religious views. Of course she marries young, and although she longs for success and recognition and her husband Caleb dreams of a career that involves raising and educating children, she is convinced that these urges are shameful and impossible. Hence, Caleb, son of a wealthy politician, is gaslit into becoming a farmer in rural Idaho, where Natalie becomes a famous tradwife influencer cosplaying the prairie lifestyle while employing two nannies and a social media manager. While alienated and lonely Caleb disappears into online manosphere rabbit holes, Natalie gets lost in her projection that "angry women" like her former college roommate Reena, who tries to survive in the corporate world, hate her because they envy her. Interwoven with this narrative, we get a second timeline where Natalie finds herself living the authentic prairie lifestyle ca. 1850, and it's dire.
So the novel tackles several themes: The couple at the center are raised with a toxic worldview that robs them of the possibility to live a lifestyle authentic to their true selves. Caleb is a failure in the eyes of his overbearing, ambitious father and his wife because he does not conform to the idea of success as determined by reactionary masculinity, and Natalie is such an intriguing narrator because her anger is directed at everyone and everything outside herself while she tries to have her cake and eat it: Be a "good Christian woman" with many children and a wealthy, highly regarded entrepreneur. Meanwhile, Reena is struggling as a woman in the corporate world, and Natalie's social media manager, a young, naive college student who, like many of her peers, has long realized that girl boss feminism is a hoax, gets disillusioned when she realizes that Natalie's online presence is just another kind of grift, a business model exploiting the disappointment and sadness of women. And let me just say that when things go South in the story, it's not the wealthy, influential males who receive the blame.
It's a riddle to me how one can possibly read this as an attack on stay-at-home moms, or as a book that puts all the blame on Natalie or that the author hates her protagonist or to complain that Natalie is both a victim and a perpetrator (God forbid: nuance!!) or that there are two (in numbers: 2!!!!) timelines. Natalie is trapped in a toxic mindset, one that sees her in a role that's not fit for her: A submissive wife, a mother, a farmer. What we read is her psychological reaction to this, one that keeps her in a constant loop of convincing herself that her life choices are the only morally correct ones, and thus this miserable woman also becomes an abuser herself. Love is replaced with moral grandstanding, religion becomes a weapon of control and judgement.
And most importantly: All women we encounter in this book are forced to play a game that's stacked against them: The corporate hamster wheel is brutal, the fake digital worlds are making us crazy, and the good Christian submissive wife life is a nightmare. Do you want to be fully dependent on the capitalist market economy, or on a man? Sounds shitty either way, but in one case, you have more freedom of choice and independence. Instagram escapism is generally not alleviating the pain though regarding what we all know as "adulting" in the polycrisis that is the 21st century. Tragically, there is no female solidarity in the world the book shows us.
This is a fun book to read and to talk about - sure, it suffers from some debut flaws, but I went into this with a German contribution to the tradwife topic in my mind: Heimat was a debacle. This is so much smarter!
You can now listen to the podcast gang discussing the German translation (also titled "Yesteryear") here: https://papierstaupodcast.de/podcast/...
Burke's novel is told from the perspective of Natalie, a young woman studying at Harvard who was raised with conservative religious views. Of course she marries young, and although she longs for success and recognition and her husband Caleb dreams of a career that involves raising and educating children, she is convinced that these urges are shameful and impossible. Hence, Caleb, son of a wealthy politician, is gaslit into becoming a farmer in rural Idaho, where Natalie becomes a famous tradwife influencer cosplaying the prairie lifestyle while employing two nannies and a social media manager. While alienated and lonely Caleb disappears into online manosphere rabbit holes, Natalie gets lost in her projection that "angry women" like her former college roommate Reena, who tries to survive in the corporate world, hate her because they envy her. Interwoven with this narrative, we get a second timeline where Natalie finds herself living the authentic prairie lifestyle ca. 1850, and it's dire.
So the novel tackles several themes: The couple at the center are raised with a toxic worldview that robs them of the possibility to live a lifestyle authentic to their true selves. Caleb is a failure in the eyes of his overbearing, ambitious father and his wife because he does not conform to the idea of success as determined by reactionary masculinity, and Natalie is such an intriguing narrator because her anger is directed at everyone and everything outside herself while she tries to have her cake and eat it: Be a "good Christian woman" with many children and a wealthy, highly regarded entrepreneur. Meanwhile, Reena is struggling as a woman in the corporate world, and Natalie's social media manager, a young, naive college student who, like many of her peers, has long realized that girl boss feminism is a hoax, gets disillusioned when she realizes that Natalie's online presence is just another kind of grift, a business model exploiting the disappointment and sadness of women. And let me just say that when things go South in the story, it's not the wealthy, influential males who receive the blame.
It's a riddle to me how one can possibly read this as an attack on stay-at-home moms, or as a book that puts all the blame on Natalie or that the author hates her protagonist or to complain that Natalie is both a victim and a perpetrator (God forbid: nuance!!) or that there are two (in numbers: 2!!!!) timelines. Natalie is trapped in a toxic mindset, one that sees her in a role that's not fit for her: A submissive wife, a mother, a farmer. What we read is her psychological reaction to this, one that keeps her in a constant loop of convincing herself that her life choices are the only morally correct ones, and thus this miserable woman also becomes an abuser herself. Love is replaced with moral grandstanding, religion becomes a weapon of control and judgement.
And most importantly: All women we encounter in this book are forced to play a game that's stacked against them: The corporate hamster wheel is brutal, the fake digital worlds are making us crazy, and the good Christian submissive wife life is a nightmare. Do you want to be fully dependent on the capitalist market economy, or on a man? Sounds shitty either way, but in one case, you have more freedom of choice and independence. Instagram escapism is generally not alleviating the pain though regarding what we all know as "adulting" in the polycrisis that is the 21st century. Tragically, there is no female solidarity in the world the book shows us.
This is a fun book to read and to talk about - sure, it suffers from some debut flaws, but I went into this with a German contribution to the tradwife topic in my mind: Heimat was a debacle. This is so much smarter!
You can now listen to the podcast gang discussing the German translation (also titled "Yesteryear") here: https://papierstaupodcast.de/podcast/...
July 1, 2026
is it ok to say i yawned a few times while reading this? i was just pushing through to the end to see just how it all ends up for the main character and those around her. i wanted to really enjoy this because the premise was unlike anything i’ve read before. but the pacing dragged in the middle and i was tuned out for like 20% of the book.
the satire of influencer culture, performative femininity, and the fantasy of the “tradwife” lifestyle was interesting, but i wish those themes had been explored with more nuance. overall, it kept me turning the pages, but once i finished, i was left feeling underwhelmed rather than impressed. i can definitely see why it’s so divisive.
2.5 ⭐️
the satire of influencer culture, performative femininity, and the fantasy of the “tradwife” lifestyle was interesting, but i wish those themes had been explored with more nuance. overall, it kept me turning the pages, but once i finished, i was left feeling underwhelmed rather than impressed. i can definitely see why it’s so divisive.
2.5 ⭐️
May 11, 2026
2.5 Stars
I'm of two minds with this book.
On one hand, I feel that what the premise promised, and what we actually got...was very misleading. I've loved plenty of books where the story ending up being vastly different than the blurb, but this experience was just unsatisfying. It's difficult to describe without including spoilers.
Also, I love a truly bitchy, unlikeable main lead. Some of my favorite characters are raging bitches. Looking at you, Nesta. IYKYK. But this one was not it.
I thought the topics of social media, social media influencers, child protection and trauma as it relates specifically to social media/influencers were really relevant…but in my opinion the author never fully fleshed them all out in a way that felt like something was really being said. Like it was…real. In fact, the majority of the main characters felt unreal. Like caricatures.
But part of me also thinks maybe that was point. That maybe the characters were supposed to feel unreal on the page because that's the type of lives they were living in the book as self-perpetuated social constructs. Or maybe I'm assigning too much credit. Who knows.
Either way, intentional or not, the story and the characters needed more fleshing out... more nuance, for this to have really landed for me.
Regardless, I have definitely thought about this since finishing it. And I was glued to the pages and read it in one sitting. So, again, I’m of two minds with this one.
I'm of two minds with this book.
On one hand, I feel that what the premise promised, and what we actually got...was very misleading. I've loved plenty of books where the story ending up being vastly different than the blurb, but this experience was just unsatisfying. It's difficult to describe without including spoilers.
Also, I love a truly bitchy, unlikeable main lead. Some of my favorite characters are raging bitches. Looking at you, Nesta. IYKYK. But this one was not it.
I thought the topics of social media, social media influencers, child protection and trauma as it relates specifically to social media/influencers were really relevant…but in my opinion the author never fully fleshed them all out in a way that felt like something was really being said. Like it was…real. In fact, the majority of the main characters felt unreal. Like caricatures.
But part of me also thinks maybe that was point. That maybe the characters were supposed to feel unreal on the page because that's the type of lives they were living in the book as self-perpetuated social constructs. Or maybe I'm assigning too much credit. Who knows.
Either way, intentional or not, the story and the characters needed more fleshing out... more nuance, for this to have really landed for me.
Regardless, I have definitely thought about this since finishing it. And I was glued to the pages and read it in one sitting. So, again, I’m of two minds with this one.
April 23, 2026
This was brilliantly bizarre.
Here is my take on this controversial story: this is a character study of a woman who suffers primarily from a narcissistic personality disorder, among others.
The story flips back and forth from the present to 1855. It can be said one story offers a feminist approach; while the other is of a woman oppressed. A reflection of the times.
A woman whose view on religion has warped her into the person she is. She hates her children; her husband; her life. Yet she paints a picture of perfection -in the form of an Instagram influencer. We are delivered the shocking truth of the influence social media portrays and how some can become so obssessed with projecting a false image of themselves; their lives.
I didn’t love this; yet, I didn’t hate it. I was compelled to read it. Burke uses a combination of religion and politics to shape this ghastly creature and story. I despised this character who was a mother, a wife, and a sister; at the same time, a cold, driven, and calculated female.
Man vs woman. Roles reversed.
A mind f**k.
I think I need therapy now.
4⭐️
Thanks TGH for sharing this peculiar one!
Here is my take on this controversial story: this is a character study of a woman who suffers primarily from a narcissistic personality disorder, among others.
The story flips back and forth from the present to 1855. It can be said one story offers a feminist approach; while the other is of a woman oppressed. A reflection of the times.
A woman whose view on religion has warped her into the person she is. She hates her children; her husband; her life. Yet she paints a picture of perfection -in the form of an Instagram influencer. We are delivered the shocking truth of the influence social media portrays and how some can become so obssessed with projecting a false image of themselves; their lives.
I didn’t love this; yet, I didn’t hate it. I was compelled to read it. Burke uses a combination of religion and politics to shape this ghastly creature and story. I despised this character who was a mother, a wife, and a sister; at the same time, a cold, driven, and calculated female.
Man vs woman. Roles reversed.
A mind f**k.
I think I need therapy now.
4⭐️
Thanks TGH for sharing this peculiar one!
May 4, 2026
This book made me feel like I needed to take a shower afterward. Felt really gross to me.
April 9, 2026
The premise of Yesteryear intrigued me right away: a modern tradwife influencer suddenly forced to live the harsh pioneer life of 1855. It sounded like it could be a fun, eye-opening contrast between today’s curated online world and raw historical reality. Sadly, it didn’t deliver for me.
The main character, Natalie, is relentlessly self-absorbed and unlikeable, which made it tough to stay invested in her journey. The story relies heavily on flashbacks and long internal monologues that slowed everything down and made the pacing feel uneven.
I kept waiting for some sharp wit, clever commentary, or even a few laughs, but none ever came.
Overall, the concept had real potential, but the execution left me bored and frustrated rather than engaged or entertained.
✴︎a˚｡⋆ Connect with me on Instagram ˗ˏˋ★‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
The main character, Natalie, is relentlessly self-absorbed and unlikeable, which made it tough to stay invested in her journey. The story relies heavily on flashbacks and long internal monologues that slowed everything down and made the pacing feel uneven.
I kept waiting for some sharp wit, clever commentary, or even a few laughs, but none ever came.
Overall, the concept had real potential, but the execution left me bored and frustrated rather than engaged or entertained.
✴︎a˚｡⋆ Connect with me on Instagram ˗ˏˋ★‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
May 10, 2026
This took me back to a time when parody movies were a thing.
And the thing parody movies and this book have in common is that everything is so exaggerated and caricatured that I can’t fully engage with most of it emotionally.
I’m incredibly conflicted about how to rate this. I’m also struggling to write this review. And I know I say it all the time but this is one of the hardest reviews I’ve had to write because I feel like no matter what I say, someone is going to feel attacked by it.
This is one of those rare books where I had to separate what readers say the book is about, what the marketing frames it as, and what the actual content on the page ultimately becomes. And even then, I still came up empty.
At first, this feels like the story of a fake tradwife influencer finally getting confronted by the reality behind the fantasy she sells online. Natalie curates this perfect image of domestic femininity and traditional living, while secretly relying on hidden conveniences and shortcuts behind the scenes. Like the massive refrigerator, 2 dishwashers, and microwave hiding behind her pantry. The irony is interesting. When she suddenly wakes up in the 1800s, she is forced to actually live the lifestyle she has been romantically packaging and selling to other people online.
We can all agree that the premise is brilliant.
And honestly, I didn’t even care about how Natalie ended up in this world at first. The real intrigue was in watching her process the situation. Watching the illusion crack. Watching her reevaluate the performance she built her identity around.
Except… that is not really what happens.
Instead, Natalie spirals into endless hatred and resentment. There is very little depth or introspection to her thought process beyond anger, paranoia, hypocrisy, and religious fanaticism. She thinks her life has become The Truman Show. From that point onward, we are trapped entirely inside her neurotic, chaotic narration, and unfortunately, I feel like the whole book starts to suffer because of it. The unfinished sentences. The abrupt endings to scenes, flashbacks and incorrect Bible verses inserted between fragmented thoughts and dialogues. For me, it’s disorienting and distracting until it becomes absolutely exhausting.
Natalie herself is a walking contradiction. Because the entire narrative is filtered through her perspective, every person, group, and interaction becomes exaggerated, negative, hostile, or absurd. There are no grounded people not only in her world, but in the book as a whole, except Abigail - who we don’t even get to see much of.
The writing rarely creates enough distance between Natalie’s distorted worldview and the narrative itself. As a result for a while, to me, the satire starts to feel less like a critique of performative tradwife culture and more like a broad mockery of entire lifestyles and groups of people.
Women who want to stay home and bake bread from scratch become caricatures. Christians become fanatics. Homeschooling parents become paranoid extremists. Rich people become cartoonishly immoral and vapid. Every page feels loaded with commentary and undertones. The repetition becomes relentless to the point where even phrases like “missionary sex” start feeling like the narrative elbowing the reader repeatedly in the ribs going, “Do you get it yet?”
At first, I assumed this lack of nuance was intentional because everything is filtered through Natalie’s unstable perspective. But when every single character feels exaggerated, the satire starts collapsing under its own weight.
That’s why I can’t stress enough how much I hated the writing style and narrative choices. And yet at the same time, I can’t say I hated the experience entirely because I have never read anything quite like this before. But by the time I reached 60%, I was more than ready for the book to end, while still holding out hope that the ending would pull everything together and put certain things into perspective for me.
What a mess right?
In the end, somewhere along the way, for me, the original premise loses all focus and clarity because the book tries to say so much about so many things at once, constantly pecking at every possible social issue, belief system, and lifestyle choice without ever giving the narrative room to breathe.
But the main reason for my conflict is this: The book never settles on whether Natalie is a narcissistic manipulator and religious extremist or a mentally ill woman trapped inside an identity she built and could no longer separate herself from. Or whether I am supposed to fear her, mock her, pity her, or understand her. It leaves that entirely up to the reader’s discretion and interpretation.
And honestly, I think that part is brilliant, even cunning. It almost absolves itself of responsibility for its own tone. You can’t definitively say the book is arguing that all trad wives are posers, or that all trad wives are fanatics and extremists… but then what exactly is it saying? Is this instead the story of an unwell woman who could have hidden herself behind any identity that pressures women into performing perfection and traditional roles and still ended up unraveling under the pressure of it either way?
And if that is the point, then why are there virtually no balanced or positive significant portrayals of the groups the book critiques? Why does every representation lean toward the most extreme, exaggerated version possible? Human behaviour and belief systems are rarely that linear or reductive. These are just some of the thoughts I had while reading.
So while I am frustrated by the ending, I’m not surprised by it either because the entire book operates in this chaotic, unstable space where reality, delusion, satire, and mental deterioration constantly bleed into each other. That said, the ending still made absolutely NO SENSE to me.
In light of some of the twists and reveals, I really don’t think that ending had any business turning out the way it did.
Oddly enough, I’m still excited about the movie adaptation because I’m curious to see what tone it’ll lean into and maybe I’ll get more insight into the author’s vision.
If the aim of this story is to explore mental health, delusion, identity, extremism, abuse, the way social media performances can distort reality and the cost of it, then I think there is something compelling buried underneath all the chaos. I can’t wish the book to be anything other than what it is and it's an important story either way, which every reader needs to experience for themselves. However, I know I would’ve liked it better if it trusted its premise enough to say less and be less of the very thing it condemns, which is performative.
Hopefully some of that made sense because my brain is well and truly fried.
I’m so glad I had Annika to read and talk about this with, because otherwise it would’ve been a bloodbath 😭 Thank you, I adore our chats so much 💕🫂
And the thing parody movies and this book have in common is that everything is so exaggerated and caricatured that I can’t fully engage with most of it emotionally.
I’m incredibly conflicted about how to rate this. I’m also struggling to write this review. And I know I say it all the time but this is one of the hardest reviews I’ve had to write because I feel like no matter what I say, someone is going to feel attacked by it.
This is one of those rare books where I had to separate what readers say the book is about, what the marketing frames it as, and what the actual content on the page ultimately becomes. And even then, I still came up empty.
At first, this feels like the story of a fake tradwife influencer finally getting confronted by the reality behind the fantasy she sells online. Natalie curates this perfect image of domestic femininity and traditional living, while secretly relying on hidden conveniences and shortcuts behind the scenes. Like the massive refrigerator, 2 dishwashers, and microwave hiding behind her pantry. The irony is interesting. When she suddenly wakes up in the 1800s, she is forced to actually live the lifestyle she has been romantically packaging and selling to other people online.
We can all agree that the premise is brilliant.
And honestly, I didn’t even care about how Natalie ended up in this world at first. The real intrigue was in watching her process the situation. Watching the illusion crack. Watching her reevaluate the performance she built her identity around.
Except… that is not really what happens.
Instead, Natalie spirals into endless hatred and resentment. There is very little depth or introspection to her thought process beyond anger, paranoia, hypocrisy, and religious fanaticism. She thinks her life has become The Truman Show. From that point onward, we are trapped entirely inside her neurotic, chaotic narration, and unfortunately, I feel like the whole book starts to suffer because of it. The unfinished sentences. The abrupt endings to scenes, flashbacks and incorrect Bible verses inserted between fragmented thoughts and dialogues. For me, it’s disorienting and distracting until it becomes absolutely exhausting.
Natalie herself is a walking contradiction. Because the entire narrative is filtered through her perspective, every person, group, and interaction becomes exaggerated, negative, hostile, or absurd. There are no grounded people not only in her world, but in the book as a whole, except Abigail - who we don’t even get to see much of.
The writing rarely creates enough distance between Natalie’s distorted worldview and the narrative itself. As a result for a while, to me, the satire starts to feel less like a critique of performative tradwife culture and more like a broad mockery of entire lifestyles and groups of people.
Women who want to stay home and bake bread from scratch become caricatures. Christians become fanatics. Homeschooling parents become paranoid extremists. Rich people become cartoonishly immoral and vapid. Every page feels loaded with commentary and undertones. The repetition becomes relentless to the point where even phrases like “missionary sex” start feeling like the narrative elbowing the reader repeatedly in the ribs going, “Do you get it yet?”
At first, I assumed this lack of nuance was intentional because everything is filtered through Natalie’s unstable perspective. But when every single character feels exaggerated, the satire starts collapsing under its own weight.
That’s why I can’t stress enough how much I hated the writing style and narrative choices. And yet at the same time, I can’t say I hated the experience entirely because I have never read anything quite like this before. But by the time I reached 60%, I was more than ready for the book to end, while still holding out hope that the ending would pull everything together and put certain things into perspective for me.
What a mess right?
In the end, somewhere along the way, for me, the original premise loses all focus and clarity because the book tries to say so much about so many things at once, constantly pecking at every possible social issue, belief system, and lifestyle choice without ever giving the narrative room to breathe.
But the main reason for my conflict is this: The book never settles on whether Natalie is a narcissistic manipulator and religious extremist or a mentally ill woman trapped inside an identity she built and could no longer separate herself from. Or whether I am supposed to fear her, mock her, pity her, or understand her. It leaves that entirely up to the reader’s discretion and interpretation.
And honestly, I think that part is brilliant, even cunning. It almost absolves itself of responsibility for its own tone. You can’t definitively say the book is arguing that all trad wives are posers, or that all trad wives are fanatics and extremists… but then what exactly is it saying? Is this instead the story of an unwell woman who could have hidden herself behind any identity that pressures women into performing perfection and traditional roles and still ended up unraveling under the pressure of it either way?
And if that is the point, then why are there virtually no balanced or positive significant portrayals of the groups the book critiques? Why does every representation lean toward the most extreme, exaggerated version possible? Human behaviour and belief systems are rarely that linear or reductive. These are just some of the thoughts I had while reading.
So while I am frustrated by the ending, I’m not surprised by it either because the entire book operates in this chaotic, unstable space where reality, delusion, satire, and mental deterioration constantly bleed into each other. That said, the ending still made absolutely NO SENSE to me.
In light of some of the twists and reveals, I really don’t think that ending had any business turning out the way it did.
Oddly enough, I’m still excited about the movie adaptation because I’m curious to see what tone it’ll lean into and maybe I’ll get more insight into the author’s vision.
If the aim of this story is to explore mental health, delusion, identity, extremism, abuse, the way social media performances can distort reality and the cost of it, then I think there is something compelling buried underneath all the chaos. I can’t wish the book to be anything other than what it is and it's an important story either way, which every reader needs to experience for themselves. However, I know I would’ve liked it better if it trusted its premise enough to say less and be less of the very thing it condemns, which is performative.
Hopefully some of that made sense because my brain is well and truly fried.
I’m so glad I had Annika to read and talk about this with, because otherwise it would’ve been a bloodbath 😭 Thank you, I adore our chats so much 💕🫂
February 24, 2026
Thank you #netgalley for the early copy of Yesteryear. I picked it out expecting a thought-provoking story. The books summary sounded so good! Unfortunately the summary was better than any part of the actual book. What I got was a novel that feels less like fiction and more like a long lecture.
The premise had potential, but the book never actually tells a story, instead Burke tells you what to think. The main character isn’t written as complex or conflicted; she’s written as an idiot. Everyone else exists mainly to be judge her or bully her and it quickly becomes repetitive and exhausting.
What bothered me most is how the book handles its themes. Instead of exploring different beliefs or lifestyles, it caricatures them. Religious faith, traditional families, and conservative Christian women in particular are treated as objects of ridicule rather than as people. You don’t have to agree with those views to recognize the difference between meaningful commentary and outright mockery, and this book chooses mockery.
Because of that, the plot barely works. Characters make decisions that feel unnatural, conflicts feel manufactured, and the pacing drags through long internal monologues while important events are rushed. By the time I reached the ending I wasn’t curious anymore, just relieved to be finished.
I don’t mind a book that challenges ideas. I actually like that. But a good story trusts readers to think for themselves. This one doesn’t. It feels more interested in proving a point than telling a compelling narrative.
I finished it only to see how it ended, and I honestly wouldn’t recommend it. I can’t believe people are saying this is going to be THE book of 2026. Totally baffled.
The premise had potential, but the book never actually tells a story, instead Burke tells you what to think. The main character isn’t written as complex or conflicted; she’s written as an idiot. Everyone else exists mainly to be judge her or bully her and it quickly becomes repetitive and exhausting.
What bothered me most is how the book handles its themes. Instead of exploring different beliefs or lifestyles, it caricatures them. Religious faith, traditional families, and conservative Christian women in particular are treated as objects of ridicule rather than as people. You don’t have to agree with those views to recognize the difference between meaningful commentary and outright mockery, and this book chooses mockery.
Because of that, the plot barely works. Characters make decisions that feel unnatural, conflicts feel manufactured, and the pacing drags through long internal monologues while important events are rushed. By the time I reached the ending I wasn’t curious anymore, just relieved to be finished.
I don’t mind a book that challenges ideas. I actually like that. But a good story trusts readers to think for themselves. This one doesn’t. It feels more interested in proving a point than telling a compelling narrative.
I finished it only to see how it ended, and I honestly wouldn’t recommend it. I can’t believe people are saying this is going to be THE book of 2026. Totally baffled.
May 2, 2026
I’m still a little torn on this one. It hooked me right away with a premise that felt fresh and a voice that was sharp, unsettling, and hard to ignore. Natalie is the kind of character you love to hate: deeply unkind, self-absorbed, and almost exhausting to spend time with. Her inner monologue is relentless, and honestly, that’s a big part of what makes the book so compulsively readable.
The deeper I got, the more it felt like the story was circling heavier ideas without ever fully engaging with them. It touches on incredibly serious issues—racism, abuse, trauma—but mostly skims the surface, leaning on Natalie’s unreliable perspective as a reason not to go further. While that may be intentional, it ultimately feels like a missed opportunity. Staying entirely in her point of view limits the emotional impact, and I kept wishing for another lens—maybe Shannon—to ground the story, share another (more reliable) viewpoint, and give those darker themes the weight they deserved.
There’s also a strong thread of satire running throughout. At times, the tone feels less like subtle commentary and more like pointed critique, dissecting the trad wife lifestyle in a way that borders on belittling and clearly suggests the author’s disapproval.
In the end, this is one of those books that’s undeniably gripping in the moment but doesn’t quite linger afterward. I was entertained the whole way through, but it left me wanting more depth, more perspective, and more meaning beneath the surface.
The deeper I got, the more it felt like the story was circling heavier ideas without ever fully engaging with them. It touches on incredibly serious issues—racism, abuse, trauma—but mostly skims the surface, leaning on Natalie’s unreliable perspective as a reason not to go further. While that may be intentional, it ultimately feels like a missed opportunity. Staying entirely in her point of view limits the emotional impact, and I kept wishing for another lens—maybe Shannon—to ground the story, share another (more reliable) viewpoint, and give those darker themes the weight they deserved.
There’s also a strong thread of satire running throughout. At times, the tone feels less like subtle commentary and more like pointed critique, dissecting the trad wife lifestyle in a way that borders on belittling and clearly suggests the author’s disapproval.
In the end, this is one of those books that’s undeniably gripping in the moment but doesn’t quite linger afterward. I was entertained the whole way through, but it left me wanting more depth, more perspective, and more meaning beneath the surface.
April 5, 2026
4.5 ⭐️
Oh... my... gosh?!
It feels slightly rare when a book suddenly pops into the world and feels INSTANTLY like a cult classic, like every book pick in every book club ever... ultimately like a book you know is going to be on everyones 'favourite book(s) of the year list.'
Yesteryear was one of my most anticipated reads of 2026 and it without a doubt surpassed every expectation that I had. This book is so nuanced, comedic (in its darkness), confronting and begs itself to open discussion. We follow our protagonist Natalie, a tradwife influencer living with her 5 children and husband farming for views and performing a perfected 'Christian x nuclear family' life. But one day... she wakes up in 1805 and is hit with the grand realisation that perhaps traditionalism isn't exactly the way forward. Blending 'weird girl fiction' with elements of a psychological thriller, Caro Claire Burke executes this fresh idea in a way that begs the reader to binge read it.
There is so much commentary on religion and conservatism and thus it is no shock that Natalie is a character flawed in her logic but is somehow so fascinating to follow. Begging the question as to whether she truly is as problematic as she seems or is she simply a product of her upbringing, of her values and more so of being a woman in this world? I am SO intrigued to see how as a result of Yesteryear, 'the weird girl' fiction subgrenre may be leaning more into the dark side of influencing and picking apart a career so governed by online surveillance and scrutiny. Natalie is a character that to her core battles authenticity. The authenticity of her beliefs, of her marriage, of her children and of her brand. Is it possible to even be our authentic selves? in our relationships? online?
Yesteryear is a FEAT in storytelling! (the last 30 pages oh my) I cannot recommend this book enough (especially for a book club!!!)
Oh... my... gosh?!
It feels slightly rare when a book suddenly pops into the world and feels INSTANTLY like a cult classic, like every book pick in every book club ever... ultimately like a book you know is going to be on everyones 'favourite book(s) of the year list.'
Yesteryear was one of my most anticipated reads of 2026 and it without a doubt surpassed every expectation that I had. This book is so nuanced, comedic (in its darkness), confronting and begs itself to open discussion. We follow our protagonist Natalie, a tradwife influencer living with her 5 children and husband farming for views and performing a perfected 'Christian x nuclear family' life. But one day... she wakes up in 1805 and is hit with the grand realisation that perhaps traditionalism isn't exactly the way forward. Blending 'weird girl fiction' with elements of a psychological thriller, Caro Claire Burke executes this fresh idea in a way that begs the reader to binge read it.
There is so much commentary on religion and conservatism and thus it is no shock that Natalie is a character flawed in her logic but is somehow so fascinating to follow. Begging the question as to whether she truly is as problematic as she seems or is she simply a product of her upbringing, of her values and more so of being a woman in this world? I am SO intrigued to see how as a result of Yesteryear, 'the weird girl' fiction subgrenre may be leaning more into the dark side of influencing and picking apart a career so governed by online surveillance and scrutiny. Natalie is a character that to her core battles authenticity. The authenticity of her beliefs, of her marriage, of her children and of her brand. Is it possible to even be our authentic selves? in our relationships? online?
Yesteryear is a FEAT in storytelling! (the last 30 pages oh my) I cannot recommend this book enough (especially for a book club!!!)
April 18, 2026
Gross inaccuracies in a book haven't irked me this much since The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, which, among other sins, claims Swiss is a language multiple times. See the many sins of Yesteryear below! It doesn't even have the poor excuse of being historical fiction. [EDIT: Links added below for a wee spot of fact-checking.]
I was intrigued by Yesteryear because, as a Christian woman on the internet, I am aware of the "tradwife" influencer phenomenon. I was hoping for a clever look at the weird little ecosystem of a subset of Instagram influencers, hopefully with a good twist, but alas! this was just a poorly-written mess. It seemed like Burke hated Natalie as much as the "Angry Women" who troll Natalie's account. She was mad at this character who she created to be that way. Well, "created." Natalie is an amalgam of real tradwife accounts, and there's not even a "resemblance to anyone living or dead" disclaimer. So uncreative and extremely disappointing to me as a reader.
Y'all know I love religion in my fiction, the more the better! I don't need a positive portrayal, but a knowledgeable and thoughtful portrayal. So I was very, very, very disappointed that Burke seemed so disinterested in the Christianity she proclaimed to portray in this book. No church services. Disconnection from any sort of religious practice. No specific hymn quotations. The Millses don't attend church, don't do family devotions or prayer, don't appear to sing together or do anything that normal Christian families do. They just "are" Christian. Yet, Burke expects us to see them as "real" Christians and not cultural Christians. Natalie has all these little sayings about being a Christian, and Burke does quote the Bible and the liturgy (which is inappropriate given Natalie's church background, definitely supposed to be some flavor of evangelical but not high church). Yet I never got the sense that Burke, as an author, believed that her character actually believed, but expected her reader to believe in Natalie's belief. There was one moment where the narrative indicates that Natalie had some kind of interior belief, and it shocked me because there had been no indication of that before! A good author loves her characters, even the despicable ones, as her creations, and it shows in a good strong narrative.
Natalie is so disjointed and poorly thought out that I can't even chart her motivations. What does she want? Money? Fame? It seems like she resents all of it and is doing this for no apparent reason. It makes no sense! I think we were supposed to think she actually wanted the farm and the aesthetic, but she clearly doesn't. Her weird little mystical moments are nearly plagiarized from a certain influencer's account, but there's nothing indicating that Natalie is open to such experiences beforehand, or that they become part of her story like it would for any normal Christian. The Poisonwood Bible this is not!
Overall, I was hugely disappointed in this book, which was an anticipated release for me. I coped by preordering The Supper Club Saints by Claire Swinarski, an author I trust. It has similar elements, yet Swinarski loves her characters, and writes thoughtful stories, and I know it will be much better! (Update: The Supper Club Saints is fantastic and it healed me from the blisters of Yesteryear.)
What to read instead:
- Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: the rotting inside of a religious family that only looks perfect from the outside
- The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver: an American missionary family and their dysfunctions
- Women Talking by Miriam Toews: Mennonite women deciding whether to leave or stay in their abusive community
- Day of No Return (Until That Day) by Kathrine Kressmann Taylor: a novel based on an eyewitness account of the rise of Nazism in the German Lutheran church
- Kindred by Octavia Butler: a woman actually time travels to yesteryear
Content warnings: domestic violence, sexual violence (including rape portrayed on the page), open-door scenes, attempted murder (portrayed on the page)
-----
Burke saying Natalie is a "fundamentalist Christian" in an NYT interview
The reason 1805 and 1855 are both floating around as the year Natalie "went back" to is because 1855 was the target year, but the ARC had 1805, and it was enshrined in an NYT review
Burke said "Once I started writing, I stopped researching" in this (poorly edited) Kirkus interview
-----
The Many Sins of Yesteryear
- We learn that Natalie’s mother sells her crochet work, and later it turns to knitting. It seems like Burke can’t tell the difference. Sloppy!
- “She loped meanderingly down the hallway.” At least that one gave me a giggle!
- Natalie is an introverted, wannabe intellectual college freshman at Harvard. So far, so good. Yet, she spends all her time in her room "reading textbooks" and being miserable about her roommate (who often brings boys home or pregames). Lonely introverted college freshmen with awful roommates go to the library, the lounge, the coffee shop, anywhere to get away. They make a friend with a better living situation (I was one of those hosts and got a lifelong bestie out of it!). That part was so unrealistic. Then, Natalie is disappointed that her freshmen seminars aren't Socratic dialogues, and she drops out after one year. Girl, what? Either choose a small liberal arts college (with small class sizes that will give you Socratic dialogue from the get-go) or wait until your advanced courses where you are expected to show up prepared. This was when I realized Natalie is a just a garden-variety fool.
- “There was nothing that made me more uncomfortable than sudden access to the painful sentiment of a stranger.” I’m sorry, have you ever been to an evangelical church? Ever heard a testimony? Ever been to cry night at youth camp? Ever had a complete stranger tell you about their miraculous healing? (Happened to me last Christmas Eve! Never seen her again! Bye, healed lady!) Even if this kind of thing makes you really uncomfortable, any woman who has spent time in the church will at least be accustomed to it.
- A 55-year-old character wins “his eighth Senate reelection campaign.” Apparently he won his first US senate election at age 7. Sloppy!
- A character hums “Für Elise.” Husband and I confirmed that is not a hummable song.
- “I swallowed the urge to crack a lampshade over his head.” Y’all only got Tiffany shades, or what? A soft fabric lampshade over the head is for partying, a heavy lamp (which I assume is what was intended in this poorly edited novel) would actually do some damage.
- I hate that I can tell exactly which tradwife influencers Burke thinks she’s skewering in this novel. It makes Natalie far less realistic to know she’s an unimaginative amalgam of real-life people. Opens up the publisher to lawsuits, too. Sloppy!
- “Maybe one day, even, they’ll talk about me in Sunday School. Saint Natalie. I like the ring of that.” Grandiosity aside (not a common aspect of sainted folks), evangelical churches don’t talk about saints in Sunday school often, and then, usually pre-Reformation only (St Patrick and St Francis were the only ones I got outside of biblical figures, not referred to as saints by low-church evangelicals.)
- “The fields were freckled with bluebonnets.” In Idaho! Sloppy!
I was intrigued by Yesteryear because, as a Christian woman on the internet, I am aware of the "tradwife" influencer phenomenon. I was hoping for a clever look at the weird little ecosystem of a subset of Instagram influencers, hopefully with a good twist, but alas! this was just a poorly-written mess. It seemed like Burke hated Natalie as much as the "Angry Women" who troll Natalie's account. She was mad at this character who she created to be that way. Well, "created." Natalie is an amalgam of real tradwife accounts, and there's not even a "resemblance to anyone living or dead" disclaimer. So uncreative and extremely disappointing to me as a reader.
Y'all know I love religion in my fiction, the more the better! I don't need a positive portrayal, but a knowledgeable and thoughtful portrayal. So I was very, very, very disappointed that Burke seemed so disinterested in the Christianity she proclaimed to portray in this book. No church services. Disconnection from any sort of religious practice. No specific hymn quotations. The Millses don't attend church, don't do family devotions or prayer, don't appear to sing together or do anything that normal Christian families do. They just "are" Christian. Yet, Burke expects us to see them as "real" Christians and not cultural Christians. Natalie has all these little sayings about being a Christian, and Burke does quote the Bible and the liturgy (which is inappropriate given Natalie's church background, definitely supposed to be some flavor of evangelical but not high church). Yet I never got the sense that Burke, as an author, believed that her character actually believed, but expected her reader to believe in Natalie's belief. There was one moment where the narrative indicates that Natalie had some kind of interior belief, and it shocked me because there had been no indication of that before! A good author loves her characters, even the despicable ones, as her creations, and it shows in a good strong narrative.
Natalie is so disjointed and poorly thought out that I can't even chart her motivations. What does she want? Money? Fame? It seems like she resents all of it and is doing this for no apparent reason. It makes no sense! I think we were supposed to think she actually wanted the farm and the aesthetic, but she clearly doesn't. Her weird little mystical moments are nearly plagiarized from a certain influencer's account, but there's nothing indicating that Natalie is open to such experiences beforehand, or that they become part of her story like it would for any normal Christian. The Poisonwood Bible this is not!
Overall, I was hugely disappointed in this book, which was an anticipated release for me. I coped by preordering The Supper Club Saints by Claire Swinarski, an author I trust. It has similar elements, yet Swinarski loves her characters, and writes thoughtful stories, and I know it will be much better! (Update: The Supper Club Saints is fantastic and it healed me from the blisters of Yesteryear.)
What to read instead:
- Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: the rotting inside of a religious family that only looks perfect from the outside
- The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver: an American missionary family and their dysfunctions
- Women Talking by Miriam Toews: Mennonite women deciding whether to leave or stay in their abusive community
- Day of No Return (Until That Day) by Kathrine Kressmann Taylor: a novel based on an eyewitness account of the rise of Nazism in the German Lutheran church
- Kindred by Octavia Butler: a woman actually time travels to yesteryear
Content warnings: domestic violence, sexual violence (including rape portrayed on the page), open-door scenes, attempted murder (portrayed on the page)
-----
Burke saying Natalie is a "fundamentalist Christian" in an NYT interview
The reason 1805 and 1855 are both floating around as the year Natalie "went back" to is because 1855 was the target year, but the ARC had 1805, and it was enshrined in an NYT review
Burke said "Once I started writing, I stopped researching" in this (poorly edited) Kirkus interview
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The Many Sins of Yesteryear
- We learn that Natalie’s mother sells her crochet work, and later it turns to knitting. It seems like Burke can’t tell the difference. Sloppy!
- “She loped meanderingly down the hallway.” At least that one gave me a giggle!
- Natalie is an introverted, wannabe intellectual college freshman at Harvard. So far, so good. Yet, she spends all her time in her room "reading textbooks" and being miserable about her roommate (who often brings boys home or pregames). Lonely introverted college freshmen with awful roommates go to the library, the lounge, the coffee shop, anywhere to get away. They make a friend with a better living situation (I was one of those hosts and got a lifelong bestie out of it!). That part was so unrealistic. Then, Natalie is disappointed that her freshmen seminars aren't Socratic dialogues, and she drops out after one year. Girl, what? Either choose a small liberal arts college (with small class sizes that will give you Socratic dialogue from the get-go) or wait until your advanced courses where you are expected to show up prepared. This was when I realized Natalie is a just a garden-variety fool.
- “There was nothing that made me more uncomfortable than sudden access to the painful sentiment of a stranger.” I’m sorry, have you ever been to an evangelical church? Ever heard a testimony? Ever been to cry night at youth camp? Ever had a complete stranger tell you about their miraculous healing? (Happened to me last Christmas Eve! Never seen her again! Bye, healed lady!) Even if this kind of thing makes you really uncomfortable, any woman who has spent time in the church will at least be accustomed to it.
- A 55-year-old character wins “his eighth Senate reelection campaign.” Apparently he won his first US senate election at age 7. Sloppy!
- A character hums “Für Elise.” Husband and I confirmed that is not a hummable song.
- “I swallowed the urge to crack a lampshade over his head.” Y’all only got Tiffany shades, or what? A soft fabric lampshade over the head is for partying, a heavy lamp (which I assume is what was intended in this poorly edited novel) would actually do some damage.
- I hate that I can tell exactly which tradwife influencers Burke thinks she’s skewering in this novel. It makes Natalie far less realistic to know she’s an unimaginative amalgam of real-life people. Opens up the publisher to lawsuits, too. Sloppy!
- “Maybe one day, even, they’ll talk about me in Sunday School. Saint Natalie. I like the ring of that.” Grandiosity aside (not a common aspect of sainted folks), evangelical churches don’t talk about saints in Sunday school often, and then, usually pre-Reformation only (St Patrick and St Francis were the only ones I got outside of biblical figures, not referred to as saints by low-church evangelicals.)
- “The fields were freckled with bluebonnets.” In Idaho! Sloppy!
July 21, 2026
It’s easy to describe this book as a scathingly why-bother-mincing-words critique of tradwife influencers and all the unrealistic self-sustainability bullshit they peddle, but it’s also a rude mirror of the reader, who almost certainly feels some kind of way about the story whether they like it or not, and who also probably projects their own shit onto the characters as much as the characters do to each other. Natalie is horrible; Natalie is fascinating; Natalie is a car crash we’re witnessing in slow motion; Natalie is a thousand years of women being pulled in different directions until they’re ripped in two. Is Natalie forgivable? Not really, but we tend to thrive on the unification common enemies create, so she’s sort of providing a public service. How toxic is social media, really? How about you give this a read and we can talk about it.
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