Silent Y by Katherine Benfante presents an intriguing premise. By 2078, widespread male violence against women has prompted radical legal reforms: men and women are physically segregated by walls dividing cities into two. After some initial protest, women largely welcome the change and the safety it brings. Procreation is planned and managed artificially, and any interaction between the sexes is tightly controlled.
The novel follows Alex and Dart, scientists working in a segregated research facility. Their work focuses on improving understanding of how babies communicate their needs to parents — a goal that struck me as oddly redundant, given that such communication is something most parents learn instinctively within weeks. As the story progresses, the barriers between Alex and Dart — and between the two halves of society — begin to erode, revealing secrets about how this world is really governed.
While the core idea is a strong one, I found the execution of the gender divide deeply unconvincing. Violence against women and girls is a real and serious problem, but the solution proposed here feels implausibly extreme. The novel offers little engagement with alternatives such as education, improved policing, or harsher sentencing, and seems to assume that total segregation would be widely accepted.
More troublingly, the book underplays basic human instincts. Would people truly accept a world with no love, intimacy, or freely chosen relationships? History suggests otherwise. The drive for sex is so powerful. Humans have always found ways to connect despite laws and prohibitions, often at great personal risk. Yet in Silent Y, there is remarkably little resistance: beyond some low-level protest during the construction of the Washington DC wall, there is no sustained or passionate dissent. The author’s implication that people have given up having sex with people of the opposite sex because they can form an emotional bond with the AI, really didn’t come across as credible.
The lack of population pushback raises further questions the novel does not adequately address. If men have become so violent that segregation is deemed necessary, why do they accept these changes without serious conflict? And how could expectant mothers calmly accept that if they give birth to a boy, he will be taken from them and raised beyond the wall? Science fiction allows for bold speculation, but these are still human beings with recognisable emotions and attachments.
I found myself unable to set these questions aside while reading, and as a result I often lost my immersion in the story itself. For me, the world-building never felt emotionally or psychologically convincing enough to support the novel’s ambitions.
Having said made all of those negative points, Silent Y is a well-paced conspiracy thriller, with a good mix of science background and unexpected plot twists. It’s well-written and carefully plotted out. The ideas is novel and I enjoyed seeing how the author mapped out the descent from a female utopia into darkness. All the way through there were hints of an intrusive surveillance society that almost mirrored 1984 and yet at no point did the assumed all-seeing, all-knowing state seem to take any action against transgressors, at least not until it was too late and this diminished the story.
This perhaps wasn’t really the book for me.
I read Silent Y as an ARC provided through LibraryThing Early Reviewers. All opinions are my own.