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The Illness Lesson
A mysterious flock of red birds has descended over Birch Hill. Recently reinvented, it is now home to an elite and progressive school designed to shape the minds of young women. But Eliza Bell – the most inscrutable and defiant of the students – has been overwhelmed by an inexplicable illness.
One by one, the other girls begin to experience the same peculiar symptoms: rashes, fits, headaches, verbal tics, night wanderings. Soon Caroline – the only woman teaching – begins to suffer too. She tries desperately to hide her symptoms but, with the birds behaving strangely and the girls’ condition worsening, the powers-that-be turn to a sinister physician with grave and dubious methods.
Caroline alone can speak on behalf of the students, but only if she summons the confidence to question everything she’s ever learnt. Does she have the strength to confront the all-male, all-knowing authorities of her world and protect the young women in her care?
Distinctive, haunting, irresistible, The Illness Lesson is an intensely vivid debut about women's minds and bodies, and the time-honoured tradition of doubting both.
One by one, the other girls begin to experience the same peculiar symptoms: rashes, fits, headaches, verbal tics, night wanderings. Soon Caroline – the only woman teaching – begins to suffer too. She tries desperately to hide her symptoms but, with the birds behaving strangely and the girls’ condition worsening, the powers-that-be turn to a sinister physician with grave and dubious methods.
Caroline alone can speak on behalf of the students, but only if she summons the confidence to question everything she’s ever learnt. Does she have the strength to confront the all-male, all-knowing authorities of her world and protect the young women in her care?
Distinctive, haunting, irresistible, The Illness Lesson is an intensely vivid debut about women's minds and bodies, and the time-honoured tradition of doubting both.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published February 11, 2020
377 people are currently reading
12939 people want to read
About the author
Clare Beams
7 books184 followersClare Beams’s novel The Illness Lesson, published in February of 2020 by Doubleday, was named a New York Times Editors’ Choice, a best book of 2020 by Esquire and Bustle, and a best book of February by Time, O Magazine, and Entertainment Weekly; it has been longlisted for the Center for Fiction First Novel Prize. Her story collection, We Show What We Have Learned, was published by Lookout Books in 2016; it won the Bard Fiction Prize, was longlisted for the Story Prize, and was a Kirkus Best Debut of 2016, as well as a finalist for the PEN/Robert W. Bingham Prize, the New York Public Library’s Young Lions Fiction Award, and the Shirley Jackson Award. A new novel, The Garden, will be published by Doubleday in 2023. Her fiction appears in One Story, n+1, Ecotone, The Common, the Kenyon Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, Electric Literature’s Recommended Reading, and The Best American Nonrequired Reading, and has received special mention in The Best American Short Stories 2013 and The Pushcart Prize XXXV. She has received fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference, the Sewanee Writers' Conference, and the Sustainable Arts Foundation. After teaching high school English for six years in Falmouth, Massachusetts, she moved to Pittsburgh, where she now lives with her husband and two daughters. She has taught creative writing at Carnegie Mellon University and St. Vincent College.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 486 reviews
March 5, 2020
The thing about The Illness Lesson is that it isn’t enough of anything. It isn’t historical enough, it isn’t weird enough, it isn’t feminist enough. The premise - girls at a boarding school who fall prey to a mysterious illness - sounds like it's going to make for a positively entrancing book, but I could not have been more bored while reading this. It never felt grounded enough in its setting to really provide much commentary about the time period (which historical fiction is wont to do) - not to mention that about a quarter of the way through the book I had to ask a friend who was also reading it if it was set in the U.S. or the U.K.
There's a recurring motif of red birds throughout the novel - strange red birds have flocked to the school for reasons no one knows. This was an intriguing thread that proved to be, like everything else in this book, utterly inconsequential; it's empty symbolism shoehorned in in order to imbue this book with some kind of meaning that wasn't actually there.
As for the girls falling ill: this plot point is relegated to the latter half of the book (what happens before that, I don't think I could tell you), and I was frustrated and a little sick at the way their invasive treatment was narratively handled. This book does contain an element of rape, which is never given the depth or breadth it deserves; instead it seems like it's there for shock value in the eleventh hour, not offering near enough insight to justify its inclusion.
On the whole, I found this book incredibly anemic and unsatisfying. I finished this a few weeks ago and I think, at the time, there was a reason I opted for 2 stars instead of 1, but I may need to downgrade my rating because I cannot think of a single thing I liked about this.
Thank you to Netgalley and Doubleday for the advanced copy provided in exchange for an honest review.
There's a recurring motif of red birds throughout the novel - strange red birds have flocked to the school for reasons no one knows. This was an intriguing thread that proved to be, like everything else in this book, utterly inconsequential; it's empty symbolism shoehorned in in order to imbue this book with some kind of meaning that wasn't actually there.
As for the girls falling ill: this plot point is relegated to the latter half of the book (what happens before that, I don't think I could tell you), and I was frustrated and a little sick at the way their invasive treatment was narratively handled. This book does contain an element of rape, which is never given the depth or breadth it deserves; instead it seems like it's there for shock value in the eleventh hour, not offering near enough insight to justify its inclusion.
On the whole, I found this book incredibly anemic and unsatisfying. I finished this a few weeks ago and I think, at the time, there was a reason I opted for 2 stars instead of 1, but I may need to downgrade my rating because I cannot think of a single thing I liked about this.
Thank you to Netgalley and Doubleday for the advanced copy provided in exchange for an honest review.
January 26, 2020
The Illness Lesson
takes place at a progressive 19th century school for young ladies, where the students begin to show signs of a mysterious affliction. Are the girls faking? Is it a psychosomatic contagion? Or are they really sick? And what’s up with the creepy red birds appearing on the grounds like freaky little harbingers?
As a piece of historical fiction, this was well-written with a compelling premise and almost-gothic setting. For the first half I was enjoying this and really quite absorbed in it. But as the book went on it began to fall apart. The characters didn’t quite come to life (the students in particular were mostly indistinguishable from each other). By the end, the novel’s themes were rather muddled and I could not work out what this book was trying to say. It’s difficult to explain why without giving spoilers, but let’s just say that the central visual metaphor of the red birds was connected to the girls’ plight in a way that left me rather confused.
In addition, some disturbing abuse occurs late in the book, and there just wasn’t enough time allotted to examining the ramifications of this. It was almost used as a plot device to bring the book’s events to a close, and I was disappointed not to delve deeper into how this affected the characters involved.
Reading The Illness Lesson, it’s hard not to think about the ways women’s health concerns today are still misunderstood, misdiagnosed, disbelieved, under-researched and even dismissed outright. I’d like to see more fiction tackling this topic, but The Illness Lesson fell short of its potential for me. 3 stars.
As a piece of historical fiction, this was well-written with a compelling premise and almost-gothic setting. For the first half I was enjoying this and really quite absorbed in it. But as the book went on it began to fall apart. The characters didn’t quite come to life (the students in particular were mostly indistinguishable from each other). By the end, the novel’s themes were rather muddled and I could not work out what this book was trying to say. It’s difficult to explain why without giving spoilers, but let’s just say that the central visual metaphor of the red birds was connected to the girls’ plight in a way that left me rather confused.
In addition, some disturbing abuse occurs late in the book, and there just wasn’t enough time allotted to examining the ramifications of this. It was almost used as a plot device to bring the book’s events to a close, and I was disappointed not to delve deeper into how this affected the characters involved.
Reading The Illness Lesson, it’s hard not to think about the ways women’s health concerns today are still misunderstood, misdiagnosed, disbelieved, under-researched and even dismissed outright. I’d like to see more fiction tackling this topic, but The Illness Lesson fell short of its potential for me. 3 stars.
August 23, 2019
As this book is not coming out for quite some time, I won’t reveal much about the plot or characters for those of you who are anticipating this novels release in February, 2020!
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the opportunity to read this before its publication.
Now, as the 2-star rating on Goodreads dictates, this book was “OK.”
The Illness Lesson is definitely an odd read, that I will say. I won’t uncover more on that, as I feel half of its oddness is what makes the book what it is. That said, the contents of the novel and its writing feels very victorian and lyrically-styled, which I enjoyed; however, that’s where my enjoyment stops. The characters and plot, on the other hand, felt slow and predictable.
Really, it isn’t so much the predictable/obvious plot that deterred me, so much as the characters which felt to me as though they had little-to-no personality. Perhaps that’s how I personally read the novel, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn't get any “feeling” from the characters. And being that I care instrumentally about the connection I form between myself and the characters within a novel, I greatly missed that bond.
I understand that others will probably form an attachment to these characters and wonder where I am coming from, and I hope you do! But for me, Caroline was the only one I felt any sliver of understanding, and even that was rather scant. Though, I did agree with her decision, in the end. I would have done the same as her — meaning the end was satisfactory and almost had me bump the rating to a 3-star rating, but it misses the rating by a mark.
Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the opportunity to read this before its publication.
Now, as the 2-star rating on Goodreads dictates, this book was “OK.”
The Illness Lesson is definitely an odd read, that I will say. I won’t uncover more on that, as I feel half of its oddness is what makes the book what it is. That said, the contents of the novel and its writing feels very victorian and lyrically-styled, which I enjoyed; however, that’s where my enjoyment stops. The characters and plot, on the other hand, felt slow and predictable.
Really, it isn’t so much the predictable/obvious plot that deterred me, so much as the characters which felt to me as though they had little-to-no personality. Perhaps that’s how I personally read the novel, but no matter how much I tried, I couldn't get any “feeling” from the characters. And being that I care instrumentally about the connection I form between myself and the characters within a novel, I greatly missed that bond.
I understand that others will probably form an attachment to these characters and wonder where I am coming from, and I hope you do! But for me, Caroline was the only one I felt any sliver of understanding, and even that was rather scant. Though, I did agree with her decision, in the end. I would have done the same as her — meaning the end was satisfactory and almost had me bump the rating to a 3-star rating, but it misses the rating by a mark.
March 22, 2020
This book drew me in from the start and I finished it in one sitting. The writing is exquisite, fast paced, exciting and kept me in class as well as exploring the gorgeous surroundings. It has mystery, intrigue and its characters are well rounded, indepth, each one unique and beautifully portrayed.
February 25, 2020
In the 1990s there were a series of bizarre cases involving strip search phone call scams in rural areas of the US. A man claiming to be a police officer called many restaurants and grocery stores accusing female employees of theft and demanded that the manager strip search these young women. This happened in over 70 venues and, surprisingly, many of the managers carried out these invasive, humiliating searches only to later discover they were a hoax. An example from this case was dramatised in the 2012 film 'Compliance' whose story would have felt far fetched if it hadn't been based on a number of real documented cases. Institutional power can lead many ordinary people to commit outrageous acts of physical and sexual violence simply because a figure of perceived authority orders them to. I was reminded of this while reading Clare Beams' excellent debut novel “The Illness Lesson” because even though it's set in private girls' school in New England in the 1870s its themes are still very relevant today. It movingly and artfully describes how hierarchical structures can normalise such abuse, especially when men are in a position of power and have control over young women.
The novel focuses on Caroline, the only daughter of an influential intellectual named Samuel who starts a progressive school for girls. Many years prior Samuel had been one of the founders of a failed commune and he seeks to partly redeem himself with this new venture. Caroline joins in his plan as a teacher alongside another ambitious young intellectual David Moore, one of Samuel's devotees. They create a makeshift schoolhouse in the barn of the former commune and attract several adolescent girls to join as their first students. In this isolated situation the girls develop strange hysterical ailments after Eliza, the most charismatic girl among the group falls ill. As the teachers desperately seek a solution to prevent their school from failing, things quickly unravel and drastic steps are taken.
Read my full review of The Illness Lesson by Clare Beams on LonesomeReader
The novel focuses on Caroline, the only daughter of an influential intellectual named Samuel who starts a progressive school for girls. Many years prior Samuel had been one of the founders of a failed commune and he seeks to partly redeem himself with this new venture. Caroline joins in his plan as a teacher alongside another ambitious young intellectual David Moore, one of Samuel's devotees. They create a makeshift schoolhouse in the barn of the former commune and attract several adolescent girls to join as their first students. In this isolated situation the girls develop strange hysterical ailments after Eliza, the most charismatic girl among the group falls ill. As the teachers desperately seek a solution to prevent their school from failing, things quickly unravel and drastic steps are taken.
Read my full review of The Illness Lesson by Clare Beams on LonesomeReader
will-probably-not-finish
March 1, 2020I was beyond excited for this book – on paper this sounds like my type of book to the extreme. Its central conceit is a fabulist metaphor, it focusses women and their bodies, and the writing is lyrical enough without being flowery. I think this would have worked a lot better for me had it been a short story. As it was, I did not find it weird enough or realistic enough for me to work. I found the characters indistinct and never got a proper impression of the place – something that would have helped ground me in the world Beams builds here. I am (maybe unfairly) blaming this book for my reading slump because I have been reading it for two months, feeling too guilty to pick up another litfic kind of book and dreading having to pick it back up – so yesterday I decided to just not keep doing that. This is not a bad book and I might have actually rated it 3 stars had I kept with it, but it is very much not the book for me. I struggle with historical fiction and really wish this had been weirder.
I received an ARC of this book courtesy of NetGalley and the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
I received an ARC of this book courtesy of NetGalley and the publisher in exchange for an honest review.
January 7, 2020
3.5 stars. If you are going to write a book where girls with symptoms of hysteria is the primary plot point, I am going to demand you have a good reason for it. It's been done a lot and it's often nothing more than a convenient device to liven up a plot. Here, Beams uses it to strong effect, to illustrate the way even people who fight for the liberation of girls and women still do not treat them as fully human.
Caroline is the isolated but well-educated daughter of a prominent thinker who once led a failed experiment colony. His new mission to open a school to educate girls, who otherwise are being prepared only for marriage and domestic duties, recruits Caroline and one of his acolytes, David, as teachers. Things go awry immediately when Eliza shows up. Her father was a member of the failed colony and wrote a wildly popular novel about it where he and a woman based on Caroline's mother had a steamy affair. And, of course, Eliza becomes the leader of the pack of girls in their charge.
After hysteria sets in, the tension builds to a disturbing apex, even though it was not described in detail or graphically, there was still enough to be incredibly uncomfortable and difficult for many readers.
While I liked a lot about this book, ultimately it was just missing some extra unidentifiable thing for me. I needed more momentum, I needed a little less of Caroline's own confusion, and ultimately I didn't find the more surreal elements to fit all that well even if they tie in to the novel that is the source of so much trouble. Still, it's a strong piece of historical fiction that is able to make modern feminist commentary in a historical setting, a trend I quite enjoy.
Caroline is the isolated but well-educated daughter of a prominent thinker who once led a failed experiment colony. His new mission to open a school to educate girls, who otherwise are being prepared only for marriage and domestic duties, recruits Caroline and one of his acolytes, David, as teachers. Things go awry immediately when Eliza shows up. Her father was a member of the failed colony and wrote a wildly popular novel about it where he and a woman based on Caroline's mother had a steamy affair. And, of course, Eliza becomes the leader of the pack of girls in their charge.
After hysteria sets in, the tension builds to a disturbing apex, even though it was not described in detail or graphically, there was still enough to be incredibly uncomfortable and difficult for many readers.
While I liked a lot about this book, ultimately it was just missing some extra unidentifiable thing for me. I needed more momentum, I needed a little less of Caroline's own confusion, and ultimately I didn't find the more surreal elements to fit all that well even if they tie in to the novel that is the source of so much trouble. Still, it's a strong piece of historical fiction that is able to make modern feminist commentary in a historical setting, a trend I quite enjoy.
June 1, 2020
Caroline lives with her father, Samuel, a writer and educator whose career and reputation have been sullied by a younger man that Samuel mentored many years ago. But Samuel is determined to revive his career by starting a school for girls. Girls can think. Girls can learn. They needn’t be limited to the traditional lessons that make young ladies into gracious hostesses. They can rise in this world, as long as he is there to guide them.
I read this book free and early thanks to Doubleday and Net Galley. It’s for sale now.
As the story opens, just a few ladies are signed up for the boarding school that will be run by Samuel and Caroline from their home. A former protegee, David, comes to join them also, and will teach the sciences. Running errands in town, however, Caroline and David run into Eliza, the daughter of the man that ruined Samuel’s career. Her father is now deceased; Eliza wants to attend the school. In a moment of mischievous rebellion that she will come to regret, Caroline accepts her.
At the outset, The Illness Lesson seems to be feminist fiction, and as school begins and I see Samuel mansplaining to his female charges about the things that women can and cannot do, should learn to do, should want to do, I lean in, ready for a rapier-sharp tale in which—I hope—the father and teacher that believes himself to be an educational gift to womankind will learn a powerful lesson.
Alas, not so much.
Before the halfway mark is reached, the story has wandered in various directions and has lost its cohesion and focus. I check my notes and change the genre for it over and over again; feminist fiction becomes historical fiction becomes romance becomes magical realism becomes horror and what the heck is this author trying to achieve? If the plan is to keep the reader guessing, I can honestly say that I am genuinely surprised (in the second half) by what Caroline finds in the woods. However, I am not a fan of surprise elements that fragment the plot. It almost feels as if it was written by a half dozen writers drunkenly passing a story around late at night. “Okay, now YOU write a chapter! Surprise me.”
I might not have been so disappointed if I hadn’t expected such great things. The premise is a wonderful one. Beams could have done so much with it, and I can’t figure out why she didn’t.
Perhaps if you read it, you’ll come away with a more charitable viewpoint. My advice, however, is to get it free or cheap, or else give it a miss entirely.
I read this book free and early thanks to Doubleday and Net Galley. It’s for sale now.
As the story opens, just a few ladies are signed up for the boarding school that will be run by Samuel and Caroline from their home. A former protegee, David, comes to join them also, and will teach the sciences. Running errands in town, however, Caroline and David run into Eliza, the daughter of the man that ruined Samuel’s career. Her father is now deceased; Eliza wants to attend the school. In a moment of mischievous rebellion that she will come to regret, Caroline accepts her.
At the outset, The Illness Lesson seems to be feminist fiction, and as school begins and I see Samuel mansplaining to his female charges about the things that women can and cannot do, should learn to do, should want to do, I lean in, ready for a rapier-sharp tale in which—I hope—the father and teacher that believes himself to be an educational gift to womankind will learn a powerful lesson.
Alas, not so much.
Before the halfway mark is reached, the story has wandered in various directions and has lost its cohesion and focus. I check my notes and change the genre for it over and over again; feminist fiction becomes historical fiction becomes romance becomes magical realism becomes horror and what the heck is this author trying to achieve? If the plan is to keep the reader guessing, I can honestly say that I am genuinely surprised (in the second half) by what Caroline finds in the woods. However, I am not a fan of surprise elements that fragment the plot. It almost feels as if it was written by a half dozen writers drunkenly passing a story around late at night. “Okay, now YOU write a chapter! Surprise me.”
I might not have been so disappointed if I hadn’t expected such great things. The premise is a wonderful one. Beams could have done so much with it, and I can’t figure out why she didn’t.
Perhaps if you read it, you’ll come away with a more charitable viewpoint. My advice, however, is to get it free or cheap, or else give it a miss entirely.
March 8, 2020
A great idea poorly executed. This book is about a couple of men who have created an experimental school for women in the 1870's to try and educate them to the same level as men. At first it sounds like they have good intentions and want to empower these young women. It doesn't take long for the men end up dictating how the women should think and feel and act, believing that women don't understand their own minds, and need men to guide them.
Amazingly, the experiment doesn't go well. When the women's frustration and sorrow begins to manifest itself in a variety of physical illnesses, they are diagnosed with Hysteria. The men double down on their efforts and go way too far in an attempt to control the women's bodies. If you know the history of the Victorian medical condition, you can guess where the story goes.
I loved this idea. I find the history of male doctors diagnosing troublesome female patients with outlandish medical conditions fascinating, and horrifying. But I don't think this book went far enough. The female characters were such bland archetypes of Victorian schoolgirls. We don't get to really dive into what is going on in their minds. I don't think the abuse was graphic enough, and the whole book could have been more hard-hitting.
I didn't hate this book. I still gave it 3 stars. It was just very disappointing because it could have been great.
Amazingly, the experiment doesn't go well. When the women's frustration and sorrow begins to manifest itself in a variety of physical illnesses, they are diagnosed with Hysteria. The men double down on their efforts and go way too far in an attempt to control the women's bodies. If you know the history of the Victorian medical condition, you can guess where the story goes.
I loved this idea. I find the history of male doctors diagnosing troublesome female patients with outlandish medical conditions fascinating, and horrifying. But I don't think this book went far enough. The female characters were such bland archetypes of Victorian schoolgirls. We don't get to really dive into what is going on in their minds. I don't think the abuse was graphic enough, and the whole book could have been more hard-hitting.
I didn't hate this book. I still gave it 3 stars. It was just very disappointing because it could have been great.
September 14, 2019
“We were, I think, making girls for a world that does not exist.”
I found this book to be powerful and moving, despite its flaws. A fictionalized Amos Bronson Alcott figure, as selfish and inept as the real one, opens a school for girls with his daughter in Reconstruction America. Strange and unsettling things happen to the girls. Things that are still happening 150 years later.
My main criticism of this book is that the girls are thinly-drawn and mere passengers in their own narrative.. An argument can be made that this really underscores the theme of the book, but readers may be alienated by this choice. Overall, I think it works when the book is read from a critical-thinking, feminist perspective as opposed to reading a “story for the sake of story”. I’m anxious to see what Clare Beams does next.
Received from the publisher and Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.
I found this book to be powerful and moving, despite its flaws. A fictionalized Amos Bronson Alcott figure, as selfish and inept as the real one, opens a school for girls with his daughter in Reconstruction America. Strange and unsettling things happen to the girls. Things that are still happening 150 years later.
My main criticism of this book is that the girls are thinly-drawn and mere passengers in their own narrative.. An argument can be made that this really underscores the theme of the book, but readers may be alienated by this choice. Overall, I think it works when the book is read from a critical-thinking, feminist perspective as opposed to reading a “story for the sake of story”. I’m anxious to see what Clare Beams does next.
Received from the publisher and Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review.
January 17, 2022
“We were, I think, making girls for a world that does not exist.”
The gaslighting, the whole “animal within an animal” metaphor for the womb, and the doctor’s “treatment” will make you angry. You should be!
The gaslighting, the whole “animal within an animal” metaphor for the womb, and the doctor’s “treatment” will make you angry. You should be!
March 17, 2020
This was a really interesting book about how a lack of freedom to speak out and be themselves is harmful to women and girls. Set in a girls school in 19th century Massachusetts, the girls all seem to be affected by a psychogenic disorder. Also, a group of red birds have come to the area hoarding items to build their nests, which eventually become smelly and vile. I interpreted the birds to represent how the girls are made sick because society requires them to hide away their true selves. The book was often ominous and dark and highlighted how women and girls were suppressed and minimized during that time period. I was a little disappointed with the ending, but overall enjoyed the book.
December 1, 2022
Oh, goodness. This book! I was hooked from the start – the lyrical, poetic writing, the nineteenth century setting, the blood-red birds and all that they symbolized … the red blood in my own heart stirring with anger at this accurate portrayal of the invisibility of girls and women in the late 1800s. And, dare I say, beyond the nineteenth century.
But the story within offers hope – two visionary men who see the potential of young women to be educated in the same way as boys – one of those men who raised a daughter on his own and includes her as a teacher in a newly created school of girls.
You’ll find birds – a majestic new/unstudied species, the trilling hearts –woven throughout this story like fine tapestry (I love the artistic rendering of this tapestry portrayed on the book cover art). They come to symbolize the tenacity of women, their future – expanding, taking on pieces of past women, forming them into something new, something to be reckoned with as they “expand their territory” in the narrative.
And, again, the writing… simply stunning (meaning, yes, I cannot wait to read the next book by this talented author). Beams has such a light touch, trusting the reader to connect the dots, and she does it with intense precision. Her sentences, like a poet’s, do so much work. I am still marveling that I felt so much – that an author could create such a brilliant literary work – in only 288 pages. I share some of that mastery here:
Below, their fields were spread rich enough for eating, as if someone had taken up a heaping knife full of sweetness and stroked it across the ground to tempt the appetite.
…Stands of trees clustered here and there, each casting its shade like the dark, wet spill of an overturned bowl… the air thick with its grass- and heather-baked dirt smell, the chorus of humming, chirping, buzzing things in the grass, a small riot like the voice of the soil, itself.
She seemed almost to feel Eliza’s fingers pushing and pushing at her own flesh, looking for the place that would give, like a soft spot on a piece of fruit.
She would be straight out of every book and song. She would come dripping words and notes, leaving pools of them in her wake, little puddles of grace for others to wander into. She would shape air into loveliness with her hands and arms.
If you enjoy literary fiction, mother-daughter or daughter-father stories, feminist fiction, and don’t need your fiction wrapped up with a tidy bow at the end – and really like to dig deep for and appreciate metaphor – this book is for you. I only wish I’d read it sooner.
But the story within offers hope – two visionary men who see the potential of young women to be educated in the same way as boys – one of those men who raised a daughter on his own and includes her as a teacher in a newly created school of girls.
You’ll find birds – a majestic new/unstudied species, the trilling hearts –woven throughout this story like fine tapestry (I love the artistic rendering of this tapestry portrayed on the book cover art). They come to symbolize the tenacity of women, their future – expanding, taking on pieces of past women, forming them into something new, something to be reckoned with as they “expand their territory” in the narrative.
And, again, the writing… simply stunning (meaning, yes, I cannot wait to read the next book by this talented author). Beams has such a light touch, trusting the reader to connect the dots, and she does it with intense precision. Her sentences, like a poet’s, do so much work. I am still marveling that I felt so much – that an author could create such a brilliant literary work – in only 288 pages. I share some of that mastery here:
Below, their fields were spread rich enough for eating, as if someone had taken up a heaping knife full of sweetness and stroked it across the ground to tempt the appetite.
…Stands of trees clustered here and there, each casting its shade like the dark, wet spill of an overturned bowl… the air thick with its grass- and heather-baked dirt smell, the chorus of humming, chirping, buzzing things in the grass, a small riot like the voice of the soil, itself.
She seemed almost to feel Eliza’s fingers pushing and pushing at her own flesh, looking for the place that would give, like a soft spot on a piece of fruit.
She would be straight out of every book and song. She would come dripping words and notes, leaving pools of them in her wake, little puddles of grace for others to wander into. She would shape air into loveliness with her hands and arms.
If you enjoy literary fiction, mother-daughter or daughter-father stories, feminist fiction, and don’t need your fiction wrapped up with a tidy bow at the end – and really like to dig deep for and appreciate metaphor – this book is for you. I only wish I’d read it sooner.
February 27, 2020
2.5 stars. Unfortunately. I will say it was a relief for me to hit that "I'm Finished" button here on Goodreads. Such a different and unfortunate feeling from me about this book from what I've seen on Twitter (mainly raving love for it). Here on Goodreads, the ratings do run a touch low - it has a 3.62 rating, so it's not great, but it's not that bad either.
I don't know if I can articulately explain why this wasn't the most engrossing read for me ....the bits with the birds in the book - were they meant to be unsettling and creepy? Because that really wasn't coming through for me. The part where the one student starts to fall into fits? I saw that as only manipulation on her part and her popularity with the other girls had them following along (mob mentality). The attempt to link behaviours to a book that was forbidden in Caroline's home, but was written by Eliza's father (the girl starting to exhibit troubling fits and fainting spells, etc.) fell quite short for me too.
I think I'm rambling up there - but if I was to get a sense of creepiness, or to feel unsettled over this experiment of an all-girls school that went wrong - I only ever felt a "meh" feeling towards it overall and was quite anxious for it to end. :-(
I planned on using this book for the Reading Women 2020 Challenge - for the task about a woman with a disability (could be mental illness). But I don't think this fits here for this task - I never got the sense - I saw it more as manipulative behaviour on Eliza's part initially - if it moved into mental illness, it didn't feel that way to me. So I'll need to read a different book to fit this particular task.
I don't know if I can articulately explain why this wasn't the most engrossing read for me ....the bits with the birds in the book - were they meant to be unsettling and creepy? Because that really wasn't coming through for me. The part where the one student starts to fall into fits? I saw that as only manipulation on her part and her popularity with the other girls had them following along (mob mentality). The attempt to link behaviours to a book that was forbidden in Caroline's home, but was written by Eliza's father (the girl starting to exhibit troubling fits and fainting spells, etc.) fell quite short for me too.
I think I'm rambling up there - but if I was to get a sense of creepiness, or to feel unsettled over this experiment of an all-girls school that went wrong - I only ever felt a "meh" feeling towards it overall and was quite anxious for it to end. :-(
I planned on using this book for the Reading Women 2020 Challenge - for the task about a woman with a disability (could be mental illness). But I don't think this fits here for this task - I never got the sense - I saw it more as manipulative behaviour on Eliza's part initially - if it moved into mental illness, it didn't feel that way to me. So I'll need to read a different book to fit this particular task.
November 4, 2021
Although I'm only giving this book 3 stars this could be one of my favorite books of all time. I'm not quite sure how that words...I'll say more later.
June 22, 2020
The Illness Lesson is an odd duck of a book, which I mean as an observation, not a criticism. In terms of genre, I would label it historical fiction, but it also feels strikingly contemporary in ways that don't undermine the historical setting. The Illness Lesson does many things at once, most of them quite well: it explores female identity in a world dominated by men and the limitations placed on even the lives of women deemed exceptional; it opens up the transcendentalist movement in ways that embrace both its aspirations and failings; it wrestles with the question of whether education should prepare individuals for their likely social roles or should be aspirational; it illustrates the consequences of male medical "knowledge" that does not clearly recognize and value the female lives over which it holds sway. And The Illness Lesson manages all this without feeling heavy handed.
On one level, the plot is fairly straightforward. An aging figure from the transcendentalist movement decides that he, his daughter Caroline, and a male acolyte will open a school for girls that will take women's intelligence as seriously as men's. The first class is small, but enthusiastic. The girls ask questions, explore, and develop their own lives of the mind. Then, the girls become ill with a range of symptoms: fainting, seizures, rashes, stuttering, and general debilitation. The school's founder, Caroline's father, invites in a former member of his transcendentalist circle to "treat" them.
While the book is presented in third person, the perspective most clearly represented is Caroline's. She is a product of an earlier version of the education the girls are now receiving, she shares some of their symptoms, and, like them, she is underestimated by the men enacting their own vision of what female identity should be. Caroline's profound discomfort becomes the reader's as well, making this book an emotionally difficult read at times, but also making it deeply compelling.
I received a free electronic review copy of this book from the publisher via NetGalley. The opinions are my own.
On one level, the plot is fairly straightforward. An aging figure from the transcendentalist movement decides that he, his daughter Caroline, and a male acolyte will open a school for girls that will take women's intelligence as seriously as men's. The first class is small, but enthusiastic. The girls ask questions, explore, and develop their own lives of the mind. Then, the girls become ill with a range of symptoms: fainting, seizures, rashes, stuttering, and general debilitation. The school's founder, Caroline's father, invites in a former member of his transcendentalist circle to "treat" them.
While the book is presented in third person, the perspective most clearly represented is Caroline's. She is a product of an earlier version of the education the girls are now receiving, she shares some of their symptoms, and, like them, she is underestimated by the men enacting their own vision of what female identity should be. Caroline's profound discomfort becomes the reader's as well, making this book an emotionally difficult read at times, but also making it deeply compelling.
I received a free electronic review copy of this book from the publisher via NetGalley. The opinions are my own.
October 6, 2020
this is one heck of a book. since a lot of the TW-worthy stuff is hard to anticipate and the book would be spoiled if i gave it away i'll put it in spoiler tags, but please if you are in any doubt, do check, cuz none of this is easy to take. .
clare beams does something incredible here. the beginning of the story seems unobjectionable. three well-minded folks, two men and a woman, set out to create an immersive school for girls in the country that will give them the same education boys get. it's just after the american civil war, and women cannot vote or own property or have jobs that are not women's jobs. the idea here is, let's teach them the arts, the sciences, literature, history. let's do away with women's disciplines like needle point. let's give them a well rounded education. the same education as boys. caroline, the protagonist and the daughter of samuel, the patriarch and the visionary, timidly says, "but they are not boys." and it's hard for the reader, including me, to think of why this should matter. but of course it does. you can give girls "the same education as boys" then what? what are they going to do with it? and are they prepared for it when they have heard, all of their lives, a story about themselves that makes them feels deeply different from boys and men? what does it do to girls who have already marked their own existence in terms of what is not allowed to them, and absorbed that as natural and willed by god, to be instructed in disciplines whose value is entirely lost on them, which presuppose a future they will never have? at the very least, it's mockery. at the very worst, it's serious, cruel mindfuckery.
but then there is a backstory. the backstory is given to us piecemeal, like it doesn't really matter, when it is in fact the heart of the whole thing. before this experiment, samuel, a kind of transcendentalist visionary, had tried to create a colony of young men who would live together, learn, think, write. the colony fell apart. the reason for this is part of the backstory, and is revealed slowly throughout the novel. you may miss its importance. clare beams has a restrained touch and does not beat you over the head with (almost) anything. against the background of the failed colony, the school for girls becomes sinister. the girls will not be able to leave or rebel. the power imbalance will be absolute.
This is a story of men ruling over women in a time when men rule over women and women have little say over their lives.
the women's unease manifests in disease. the answer to this disease is male violence.
this is painful to watch. so painful.
in the meantime, birds as red as menstruation build new possibilities, side with women, tell women: there is a way. you, too, can fly. they literally re-write the women's story with bits of the women's lives.
amazing. this is an amazing book, full of wisdom, intelligence, and courage.
clare beams does something incredible here. the beginning of the story seems unobjectionable. three well-minded folks, two men and a woman, set out to create an immersive school for girls in the country that will give them the same education boys get. it's just after the american civil war, and women cannot vote or own property or have jobs that are not women's jobs. the idea here is, let's teach them the arts, the sciences, literature, history. let's do away with women's disciplines like needle point. let's give them a well rounded education. the same education as boys. caroline, the protagonist and the daughter of samuel, the patriarch and the visionary, timidly says, "but they are not boys." and it's hard for the reader, including me, to think of why this should matter. but of course it does. you can give girls "the same education as boys" then what? what are they going to do with it? and are they prepared for it when they have heard, all of their lives, a story about themselves that makes them feels deeply different from boys and men? what does it do to girls who have already marked their own existence in terms of what is not allowed to them, and absorbed that as natural and willed by god, to be instructed in disciplines whose value is entirely lost on them, which presuppose a future they will never have? at the very least, it's mockery. at the very worst, it's serious, cruel mindfuckery.
but then there is a backstory. the backstory is given to us piecemeal, like it doesn't really matter, when it is in fact the heart of the whole thing. before this experiment, samuel, a kind of transcendentalist visionary, had tried to create a colony of young men who would live together, learn, think, write. the colony fell apart. the reason for this is part of the backstory, and is revealed slowly throughout the novel. you may miss its importance. clare beams has a restrained touch and does not beat you over the head with (almost) anything. against the background of the failed colony, the school for girls becomes sinister. the girls will not be able to leave or rebel. the power imbalance will be absolute.
This is a story of men ruling over women in a time when men rule over women and women have little say over their lives.
the women's unease manifests in disease. the answer to this disease is male violence.
this is painful to watch. so painful.
in the meantime, birds as red as menstruation build new possibilities, side with women, tell women: there is a way. you, too, can fly. they literally re-write the women's story with bits of the women's lives.
amazing. this is an amazing book, full of wisdom, intelligence, and courage.
October 10, 2019
The Illness Lesson tries to be a lot of things – a book about women and the ways we have been suppressed by men; a story about school, and how women are often discouraged from thinking and questioning; a look at hysteria and one of the bizarre treatments men employed; an exploration of the connection between body and mind and how the fear of inheriting a disease can alter perceptions as well as personalities; a comment on education; an exploration of relationships between parents and children and ones between consenting adults; and, oddly, birds. Unfortunately, none of these things are explored very fully, the characters are left only half formed, the sometimes beautiful writing is lost in a book that tries to do too much, and the birds remain an odd construct which tries to be mystical and intriguing but ends up being mostly a distraction. There was potential here, and the prose style held me enough to finish the book, but I was left feeling disappointed at the lack of depth or intensity this story needed.
February 22, 2020
What a thought provoking and unique read full of symbolism and beautiful prose that I enjoyed reading about. The setting of this book is in Ashwell Massachusetts in the year 1871. Samuel Hood starts a school for young women that he envisioned to be revolutionary in nature that teaches mathematics, literature and teaching these young women just as boys school have been taught at the time.
As a strange event with a flock of birds descends the town, the young ladies suddenly manifests these symptoms of fainting, rashes, headaches and wandering. A physician has been called and diagnosed the young girls with hysteria. The treatment administered for these young women is very disturbing.
All in all, I felt that this book was an important read though the subject matter may be uncomfortable. There are a lot of symbolisms in this writing that I enjoyed a lot. Overall, I was very glad to experience reading Claire Beams very talented writing.
As a strange event with a flock of birds descends the town, the young ladies suddenly manifests these symptoms of fainting, rashes, headaches and wandering. A physician has been called and diagnosed the young girls with hysteria. The treatment administered for these young women is very disturbing.
All in all, I felt that this book was an important read though the subject matter may be uncomfortable. There are a lot of symbolisms in this writing that I enjoyed a lot. Overall, I was very glad to experience reading Claire Beams very talented writing.
March 2, 2020
The Illness Lesson makes a promising start: gorgeous writing, astute observations, the lure of a fascinating omen. I'm afraid, however, that the premise doesn't pan out.
The book sets itself up as a feminist allegory but fails in its promise. Samuel Beam opens an experimental school in the nineteenth century to offer girls a classical education, one traditionally only given to boys. Too soon, an omen in the shape of red birds appear and an illness takes over the students.
The readers never really find out if the illness is real or magical, but there is a very LARGE signpost to indicate that it is a metaphor for female subjugation. Caroline writes an overly convenient letter at the end: the illness was a "strange suffering" that arose in the "divide between the girls' minds and their bodies," between "the sense we tried to give them of their possibilities and the actual state of their possibilities." In other words, we tried to give the girls an opportunity but the world is sexist and they suffered because of what it's really like out there.
None of this is convincing. In Charlotte Perkin Gilman's "The Yellow Wallpaper," the classic 19th century story of female illness, the narrator goes mad because she is being cloistered, controlled, and repressed by her husband and doctor. Not all stories are alike, of course, but I mention that one because it shows very clearly how and why the illness comes upon the character, how male society (through its fictional characters) oppresses her.
In the Illness Lesson, there is no such catalyst for the illness. The teachers (although domineering--as even liberal minded men might be at the time) give the girls as good an education as possible. They don't silence their female students, dismiss their opinions, or shut them in their rooms with bars on the windows (as the men do in the Yellow Wallpaper.) The girls are encouraged to speak, to read, to learn, to trust their minds. (Not that it does them much good). After some weeks of studying mathematics and Shakespeare, the students seem little changed. They continue to be mostly interested in ribbons, hairstyles, trashy novels, and boys. They don't really develop in any important ways or seem to grasp they are being given opportunities. (Similarly, Caroline, who is given a first-rate education from birth, only really thinks about sex and romance, and while that's fine, we never know what she wants and she's annoyingly passive. Besides, it's odd for a book about women's education to never explore how women grow or develop because of that knowledge.) Neither Caroline nor the girls really do anything to bring on their own awareness of their lack of opportunities. None can be considered trail-blazing heroines, rebels who try to change the status quo, so it's unclear to me why they get sick. They remain girls who are content to remain in their place. And while it's all fine and good to be such a girl, this novel sets out to show us what happens to girls who SENSE their potential and what happens when they're confronted by the reality that keeps down their potential. So why do the girls become sick, after some few weeks of learning, when they don't seem to do any of those things?
Do they become ill just because they get an education? I would hope not.
At first, I wondered if the gothic element might go some way to explaining it. Maybe the real reason was the malevolent red birds that haunt the novel. But the birds don't do much except show up and make nests and steal ribbons. They're creepy, yes, but they do nothing to further the main theme or the plot. And that's problematic. Since the author gives us a summarized, tidy explanation for how to read the illness, her stated reason has to hold up. As far as I can tell, there is nothing either in terms of plot or imagery to back up the novel's raison d'etre.
So while the author sets out to write a feminist story, it becomes the opposite. It becomes a story about how women can't handle education. It becomes a novel about women who are so weak that they will get sick if they are given access to Latin, math, and literature. I would understand if the girls caught the strange illness while trying to accomplish certain things in life, if they suddenly rose up to challenge a social norm or do something unusual or even great, and the world knocked them back down again. If that were the case, who wouldn't fall sick sick with a magical malady? In other words, if they actually experienced that divide Caroline writes about. But nope. The girls get sick before the year is out, while they're mooning after the teacher and trying out new hairstyles and really doing nothing in particular except sneaking out at night and trying to do the equivalent of cutting.
In the last third of the book, a monster of a man shows up and the other men, who were at first portrayed as progressive if flawed, do nothing to stop his abuse. And while the reader might be forgiven for thinking that this is thematic proof of how the world keeps the girls down, this abuse and weakness occur after the illness takes hold, so it can't be the the catalyst for its existence. In other words, it does not work as plot device. (As well, I have issues with how the father is portrayed as a creep at the very end when neither Caroline nor the reader saw any real evidence of it before.) A novel is about plot as well as theme, and author needs to depict how the illness descends upon the girls in or after those moments they experience the divide between possibility and the reality of that possibility.
But there is nothing to show us why the girls get sick, except for the fact that they happened to be educated at a progressive school. Many women were well educated in previous centuries. The very fact of an educated woman is simply not enough to keep this plot afloat, even if it is a gothic, magical realist novel. Neither the novel nor its explanation of the illness holds water. I kept thinking about all the great women/writers/thinkers in history who really did take on the odds, who did contend with the lack of opportunities and with prejudice, who probably did experience physical and mental strain because of it. And while I applaud the author for her beautiful writing and her atmospheric renditions of place and sickness, I felt disappointed by what I was left with.
The book sets itself up as a feminist allegory but fails in its promise. Samuel Beam opens an experimental school in the nineteenth century to offer girls a classical education, one traditionally only given to boys. Too soon, an omen in the shape of red birds appear and an illness takes over the students.
The readers never really find out if the illness is real or magical, but there is a very LARGE signpost to indicate that it is a metaphor for female subjugation. Caroline writes an overly convenient letter at the end: the illness was a "strange suffering" that arose in the "divide between the girls' minds and their bodies," between "the sense we tried to give them of their possibilities and the actual state of their possibilities." In other words, we tried to give the girls an opportunity but the world is sexist and they suffered because of what it's really like out there.
None of this is convincing. In Charlotte Perkin Gilman's "The Yellow Wallpaper," the classic 19th century story of female illness, the narrator goes mad because she is being cloistered, controlled, and repressed by her husband and doctor. Not all stories are alike, of course, but I mention that one because it shows very clearly how and why the illness comes upon the character, how male society (through its fictional characters) oppresses her.
In the Illness Lesson, there is no such catalyst for the illness. The teachers (although domineering--as even liberal minded men might be at the time) give the girls as good an education as possible. They don't silence their female students, dismiss their opinions, or shut them in their rooms with bars on the windows (as the men do in the Yellow Wallpaper.) The girls are encouraged to speak, to read, to learn, to trust their minds. (Not that it does them much good). After some weeks of studying mathematics and Shakespeare, the students seem little changed. They continue to be mostly interested in ribbons, hairstyles, trashy novels, and boys. They don't really develop in any important ways or seem to grasp they are being given opportunities. (Similarly, Caroline, who is given a first-rate education from birth, only really thinks about sex and romance, and while that's fine, we never know what she wants and she's annoyingly passive. Besides, it's odd for a book about women's education to never explore how women grow or develop because of that knowledge.) Neither Caroline nor the girls really do anything to bring on their own awareness of their lack of opportunities. None can be considered trail-blazing heroines, rebels who try to change the status quo, so it's unclear to me why they get sick. They remain girls who are content to remain in their place. And while it's all fine and good to be such a girl, this novel sets out to show us what happens to girls who SENSE their potential and what happens when they're confronted by the reality that keeps down their potential. So why do the girls become sick, after some few weeks of learning, when they don't seem to do any of those things?
Do they become ill just because they get an education? I would hope not.
At first, I wondered if the gothic element might go some way to explaining it. Maybe the real reason was the malevolent red birds that haunt the novel. But the birds don't do much except show up and make nests and steal ribbons. They're creepy, yes, but they do nothing to further the main theme or the plot. And that's problematic. Since the author gives us a summarized, tidy explanation for how to read the illness, her stated reason has to hold up. As far as I can tell, there is nothing either in terms of plot or imagery to back up the novel's raison d'etre.
So while the author sets out to write a feminist story, it becomes the opposite. It becomes a story about how women can't handle education. It becomes a novel about women who are so weak that they will get sick if they are given access to Latin, math, and literature. I would understand if the girls caught the strange illness while trying to accomplish certain things in life, if they suddenly rose up to challenge a social norm or do something unusual or even great, and the world knocked them back down again. If that were the case, who wouldn't fall sick sick with a magical malady? In other words, if they actually experienced that divide Caroline writes about. But nope. The girls get sick before the year is out, while they're mooning after the teacher and trying out new hairstyles and really doing nothing in particular except sneaking out at night and trying to do the equivalent of cutting.
In the last third of the book, a monster of a man shows up and the other men, who were at first portrayed as progressive if flawed, do nothing to stop his abuse. And while the reader might be forgiven for thinking that this is thematic proof of how the world keeps the girls down, this abuse and weakness occur after the illness takes hold, so it can't be the the catalyst for its existence. In other words, it does not work as plot device. (As well, I have issues with how the father is portrayed as a creep at the very end when neither Caroline nor the reader saw any real evidence of it before.) A novel is about plot as well as theme, and author needs to depict how the illness descends upon the girls in or after those moments they experience the divide between possibility and the reality of that possibility.
But there is nothing to show us why the girls get sick, except for the fact that they happened to be educated at a progressive school. Many women were well educated in previous centuries. The very fact of an educated woman is simply not enough to keep this plot afloat, even if it is a gothic, magical realist novel. Neither the novel nor its explanation of the illness holds water. I kept thinking about all the great women/writers/thinkers in history who really did take on the odds, who did contend with the lack of opportunities and with prejudice, who probably did experience physical and mental strain because of it. And while I applaud the author for her beautiful writing and her atmospheric renditions of place and sickness, I felt disappointed by what I was left with.
August 23, 2019
The Illness Lesson is a quiet, unassuming lesson on women and how society shapes and perceives them. The prose was beautiful and vivid, evoking imagery and universal themes. It’s a quick read, drawing you into a specific world both entirely grounded in our reality but also seemingly so far away from the world we live in. Set in the 19th century, this book asks the question of what a progressive woman might look like in that time and what roadblocks she might encounter. While not at the center of this story, this question lurks on the edges. Challenging the beliefs and actions of even the more progressive male and female characters, the author carves a very particular path and message specific to our heroine, Caroline. Like some of the most evocative female-centric stories, the core of The Illness Lesson explores the connection between women, both socially and generationally. Can we inherit trauma? Can it spread sociologically? What is the connection between body and mind and can we trust either? The Illness Lesson endeavors to ask these questions, even if there is no clear answer. I highly recommend giving it a read. Thematically it reminded me of the film Midsommar, but there are also nods to classic gothic literature. If you want to be encompassed by a novel, this is a great choice.
February 21, 2020
infuriatingly brilliant & validating of my fear of birds. reading this felt like i'd found the capstone to an internal syllabus i am constantly growing (little women - picnic at hanging rock 2018 - hangsaman/hill house - rebecca - the girls). shocking use of descriptions and stunning comparisons throughout; love the use of text within text, and it felt like a novel that had existed for ages, not something contemporary intruding on the past but exposing emotions and internal worlds that had always been there.
February 15, 2020
Clare Beams’s new book, THE ILLNESS LESSON, is marvelous on every level. The characters are well drawn and devastatingly original. The language is a joy in its own right. The story will keep you furiously turning pages as it builds to its inevitable conclusion. The themes are thought-provoking and important. Highly recommend!
December 20, 2019
Smart, atmospheric, and absolutely gripping.
February 17, 2020
In a small town in 19th century Massachusetts, a mysterious flock of red birds descends. At the same time, Samuel Hood, a prominent intellectual, has started a school for girls along with his daughter Caroline, and a follower named David. Samuel seeks to educate girls the same way boys have been educated- teaching them English literature, mathematics, classical languages, and to think critically, in a time where girls schools traditionally focused on needlepoint, music, how to become wives and mothers. Samuel believes he can change the world.
Then one of the students comes down with a mysterious illness and one by one, all the other girls do too. Rashes, fainting, headaches, night wanderings. Soon Caroline develops symptoms as well but tries to keep them hidden. That is, until a doctor is summoned and quickly determines it hysteria. Caroline is the only one who can speak up for the girls, but to do so would require questioning everything she’s ever been taught. Is she strong enough to confront the all-male, all-knowing authorities & protect the girls within her care? And what of those red birds & their strange behavior?
Claire Beams is a talented writer. She can turn phrases so beautifully. The idea of this novel was also fantastic. Unfortunately, I found this book to have some serious issues in structure and characterization (or at points, lack thereof). I really struggled to get into for a long time. For quite awhile I felt like I was missing pertinent information. There is so much talk of Samuel Hood, of Birch Hill, some kind of failed experiment. Birch Hill is absolutely essential to the novel and yet we literally don’t get the story of what happened with it until halfway through the book. There is also much talk of Samuel’s ideology and the essays he writes and his following, yet I never did feel like that ideology was particularly well developed or explained.
The girls were also rather indistinguishable, more a singular character than eight individuals but it occured to me first that the men loom so large in this book. Then I realized, the author, though female and writing ostensibly from a feminist bend, is somehow much better at writing men than women. There’s many ways Caroline, the only female who is really given much detail, doesn’t seem much different from the men, seems almost genderless or masculine, or maybe I just didn’t connect to her character. I certainly couldn’t relate to her well. There’s a sort of emotional detachment in Caroline even though the book is told from her point of view, even though the depth and quality of female emotions is an integral part of this book, as much as their brains, skill, and general ability to be intellectually as good or better than men. So I found parts of this book to hit like a punch in the gut but how much more powerful could it have been if we, as women readers in particular, could more easily relate to her.
Caroline was so focused on her a body in ways that, as someone who’s experienced a lot of sickness myself, I found really odd. I’ve found, and I suspect many would agree with me, that there is nothing quite like illness, especially if it’s the kind of illness others doubt or don’t understand, to pull one deep inside their head, to make one really question their life and aims, and illness forces one to live a great deal more internally as the external type is so difficult. I found it strange that even as Caroline grew and changed, she was overly focused on her body. Perhaps this was due to her father’s obsession with souls or perhaps- and much to the detriment of the greater story- it was something the author felt necessary to drive home her point. If so, it sure was heavy-handed. There’s a moral kind of lesson here and things you feel eventually while reading it, but a general lack of emotion in the pages. I think this was the books greatest flaw for me, personally.
All of this said, however, I genuinely do feel this is worth the read if the topic interests you. I had a very visceral reaction at the books climax, when we meet Dr. Hawkins. There’s far too much that simply hasn’t changed in the way women and girls are treated. That section vividly and painfully brought to mind my own traumas and while we no longer have doctors forcing orgasms on so-called “hysterical” women, have we really changed much? We force internal ultrasounds in some states on women who elect to have abortions. Pelvic and rectal exams are regularly forced on scared women and children in ERs. While one has a right to refuse or at least demand a female practitioner, I’ve been in situations myself where so much like in this book I was coerced and spoken to very demeaningly and manipulatively, told I must not really want to get better, or told I’m not really sick at all. In some ways I would hesitate to recommend this one to others who bear the scars and trauma I do, but this book may be exactly the thing for some of them. It is strange though, how a book I struggled to connect to and that seemed to generally be lacking in emotion could, at least in that part, make me feel so much. I was enraged, and I only wish the women and girls in this book had been allowed any anger at all.
Many mixed feelings, yet some beautiful writing that I spent a lot of time highlighting. I think this one would make for some interesting discussions and I do hope others are able to gain something from it. I would absolutely read other work by Claire Beams. This one just missed the mark for me.
Then one of the students comes down with a mysterious illness and one by one, all the other girls do too. Rashes, fainting, headaches, night wanderings. Soon Caroline develops symptoms as well but tries to keep them hidden. That is, until a doctor is summoned and quickly determines it hysteria. Caroline is the only one who can speak up for the girls, but to do so would require questioning everything she’s ever been taught. Is she strong enough to confront the all-male, all-knowing authorities & protect the girls within her care? And what of those red birds & their strange behavior?
Claire Beams is a talented writer. She can turn phrases so beautifully. The idea of this novel was also fantastic. Unfortunately, I found this book to have some serious issues in structure and characterization (or at points, lack thereof). I really struggled to get into for a long time. For quite awhile I felt like I was missing pertinent information. There is so much talk of Samuel Hood, of Birch Hill, some kind of failed experiment. Birch Hill is absolutely essential to the novel and yet we literally don’t get the story of what happened with it until halfway through the book. There is also much talk of Samuel’s ideology and the essays he writes and his following, yet I never did feel like that ideology was particularly well developed or explained.
The girls were also rather indistinguishable, more a singular character than eight individuals but it occured to me first that the men loom so large in this book. Then I realized, the author, though female and writing ostensibly from a feminist bend, is somehow much better at writing men than women. There’s many ways Caroline, the only female who is really given much detail, doesn’t seem much different from the men, seems almost genderless or masculine, or maybe I just didn’t connect to her character. I certainly couldn’t relate to her well. There’s a sort of emotional detachment in Caroline even though the book is told from her point of view, even though the depth and quality of female emotions is an integral part of this book, as much as their brains, skill, and general ability to be intellectually as good or better than men. So I found parts of this book to hit like a punch in the gut but how much more powerful could it have been if we, as women readers in particular, could more easily relate to her.
Caroline was so focused on her a body in ways that, as someone who’s experienced a lot of sickness myself, I found really odd. I’ve found, and I suspect many would agree with me, that there is nothing quite like illness, especially if it’s the kind of illness others doubt or don’t understand, to pull one deep inside their head, to make one really question their life and aims, and illness forces one to live a great deal more internally as the external type is so difficult. I found it strange that even as Caroline grew and changed, she was overly focused on her body. Perhaps this was due to her father’s obsession with souls or perhaps- and much to the detriment of the greater story- it was something the author felt necessary to drive home her point. If so, it sure was heavy-handed. There’s a moral kind of lesson here and things you feel eventually while reading it, but a general lack of emotion in the pages. I think this was the books greatest flaw for me, personally.
All of this said, however, I genuinely do feel this is worth the read if the topic interests you. I had a very visceral reaction at the books climax, when we meet Dr. Hawkins. There’s far too much that simply hasn’t changed in the way women and girls are treated. That section vividly and painfully brought to mind my own traumas and while we no longer have doctors forcing orgasms on so-called “hysterical” women, have we really changed much? We force internal ultrasounds in some states on women who elect to have abortions. Pelvic and rectal exams are regularly forced on scared women and children in ERs. While one has a right to refuse or at least demand a female practitioner, I’ve been in situations myself where so much like in this book I was coerced and spoken to very demeaningly and manipulatively, told I must not really want to get better, or told I’m not really sick at all. In some ways I would hesitate to recommend this one to others who bear the scars and trauma I do, but this book may be exactly the thing for some of them. It is strange though, how a book I struggled to connect to and that seemed to generally be lacking in emotion could, at least in that part, make me feel so much. I was enraged, and I only wish the women and girls in this book had been allowed any anger at all.
Many mixed feelings, yet some beautiful writing that I spent a lot of time highlighting. I think this one would make for some interesting discussions and I do hope others are able to gain something from it. I would absolutely read other work by Claire Beams. This one just missed the mark for me.
October 3, 2020
This is a subject I’m passionate about and perennially fascinated by. Women dismissed, disbelieved and exploited by androcentric authorities in medicine. Denied bodily autonomy. Think The Yellow Wallpaper, for example.
The Illness Lesson at once fulfils and falls short of igniting that fascination. The premise is an interesting one: the young women of a novelty boarding school suddenly succumb to an unidentified illness, later diagnosed as (surprise, fucking surprise) ‘hysteria’. Beams’s prose is vivid and infused with sensibility, allegory and metaphor. But the execution is tentative, hazy and ultimately ambiguous – and not in a tantalizing way.
My ultimate impression is that The Illness Lesson was half-baked. Anaemic, maybe. Beams knew what she wanted to say but didn’t quite succeed in conveying it to her reader. The historical detail is thin on the ground and the characters are indistinct; Caroline in particular lacked personality in such a way that I never found her emotionally compelling. It’s all rather unconvincing – the revelation is in there somewhere, Beams just never quite cracked the nut.
Intrinsically unsatisfying.
The Illness Lesson at once fulfils and falls short of igniting that fascination. The premise is an interesting one: the young women of a novelty boarding school suddenly succumb to an unidentified illness, later diagnosed as (surprise, fucking surprise) ‘hysteria’. Beams’s prose is vivid and infused with sensibility, allegory and metaphor. But the execution is tentative, hazy and ultimately ambiguous – and not in a tantalizing way.
My ultimate impression is that The Illness Lesson was half-baked. Anaemic, maybe. Beams knew what she wanted to say but didn’t quite succeed in conveying it to her reader. The historical detail is thin on the ground and the characters are indistinct; Caroline in particular lacked personality in such a way that I never found her emotionally compelling. It’s all rather unconvincing – the revelation is in there somewhere, Beams just never quite cracked the nut.
Intrinsically unsatisfying.
May 11, 2020
At first, this was one of the most boring books I’d ever read. I had to find an alternative book to read at times, because this one frequently lulled me to sleep. Since it was a book club pick, I muddled through. (Also, because I went to hear the author, Clare Beams, speak about it and I purchased and had her autograph a copy.)
By the last 50 pages or so, it became very perverse and difficult to read. (Keep in mind, I am not easily offended and have read some disturbing materials, as seen in my “Read” bookshelf.) This was very distasteful and I’m not sure how it was totally relevant to the story. Many other scenarios could have been substituted and still reached the conclusion. Furthermore, I’m having difficulty understanding how Ms. Beams was able to write such a story, having two daughters of her own. I can only hope for their sakes that they are never allowed to read this book.
The only satisfaction I got from this book at all came from finishing it and being able to guilt-free rid my bookshelf of it, autographed copy or not.
By the last 50 pages or so, it became very perverse and difficult to read. (Keep in mind, I am not easily offended and have read some disturbing materials, as seen in my “Read” bookshelf.) This was very distasteful and I’m not sure how it was totally relevant to the story. Many other scenarios could have been substituted and still reached the conclusion. Furthermore, I’m having difficulty understanding how Ms. Beams was able to write such a story, having two daughters of her own. I can only hope for their sakes that they are never allowed to read this book.
The only satisfaction I got from this book at all came from finishing it and being able to guilt-free rid my bookshelf of it, autographed copy or not.
September 9, 2019
A small group of girls at a newly formed school come down with symptoms of an unknown origin. Examines females interacting with one another and the history of hysteria. This is a slow paced novel which raises the ethics of medical molestation and its effect on young women. The characters are well drawn although not readily likable. The subject matter is uncomfortable. Then there are the birds...a solid read.
Copy provided by the Publisher and NetGalley
Copy provided by the Publisher and NetGalley
March 1, 2020
Why men great till they gotta be great?
March 2, 2020
Absolutely LOVED this book. 1st it's physically gorgeous...the cover art, the weight of the pages (and I'm not typically a hardcover reader!). Feels a little bit Crucible, a little bit Scarlet Letter, a little bit Hitchcock. Beautifully written.
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