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The Women Could Fly
Reminiscent of the works of Margaret Atwood, Shirley Jackson, and Octavia Butler, a biting social commentary from the acclaimed author of Lakewood that speaks to our times--a piercing dystopian novel about the unbreakable bond between a young woman and her mysterious mother, set in a world in which witches are real and single women are closely monitored.
Josephine Thomas has heard every conceivable theory about her mother's disappearance. That she was kidnapped. Murdered. That she took on a new identity to start a new family. That she was a witch. This is the most worrying charge because in a world where witches are real, peculiar behavior raises suspicions and a woman--especially a Black woman--can find herself on trial for witchcraft.
But fourteen years have passed since her mother's disappearance, and now Jo is finally ready to let go of the past. Yet her future is in doubt. The State mandates that all women marry by the age of 30--or enroll in a registry that allows them to be monitored, effectively forfeiting their autonomy. At 28, Jo is ambivalent about marriage. With her ability to control her life on the line, she feels as if she has her never understood her mother more. When she's offered the opportunity to honor one last request from her mother's will, Jo leaves her regular life to feel connected to her one last time.
In this powerful and timely novel, Megan Giddings explores the limits women face--and the powers they have to transgress and transcend them.
Josephine Thomas has heard every conceivable theory about her mother's disappearance. That she was kidnapped. Murdered. That she took on a new identity to start a new family. That she was a witch. This is the most worrying charge because in a world where witches are real, peculiar behavior raises suspicions and a woman--especially a Black woman--can find herself on trial for witchcraft.
But fourteen years have passed since her mother's disappearance, and now Jo is finally ready to let go of the past. Yet her future is in doubt. The State mandates that all women marry by the age of 30--or enroll in a registry that allows them to be monitored, effectively forfeiting their autonomy. At 28, Jo is ambivalent about marriage. With her ability to control her life on the line, she feels as if she has her never understood her mother more. When she's offered the opportunity to honor one last request from her mother's will, Jo leaves her regular life to feel connected to her one last time.
In this powerful and timely novel, Megan Giddings explores the limits women face--and the powers they have to transgress and transcend them.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published August 9, 2022
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,312 reviews
July 29, 2022
If you one-star a book before there are even ARCs available I will five-star it, sorry-not-at-all-sorry
:edit: Now that I've read it for myself I wish I could give it 100 stars, holy GODS that was amazing!!!
Rtc!
:REVIEW:
HIGHLIGHTS
~one of the best takes on magic I have ever seen
~these spirits slap
~what if it was the law for women to marry by 30?
~absolutely ALL the Feels
~The Handmaid’s Tale < THIS BOOK
Writing this review is going to be difficult for a number of reasons – I have a lot of Feels that are going to be hard to put into words; The Women Could Fly deals with a number of difficult themes that deserve to be commented upon thoughtfully; and of course, it’s a book about a Black queer woman experiencing that combination of racism and misogyny and queerphobia that I, the whitest of white snowflakes, have only an academic understanding of.
But also, I have almost no notes for this review. Because after the first chapter, I couldn’t put the book down long enough to write any!
That should give you an immediate idea of how compulsively readable The Women Could Fly is.
Jo lives in a USA where witches exist, and to be convicted of witchcraft often still means being burnt at the stake. Witches are evil; witches are powerful; and witches are women. Witches are especially often BIPOC women, because the ‘baser natures’ of non-whites makes them more susceptible to the call of the Devil. Or something.
(I don’t say ‘or something’ with the implication that Giddings hasn’t done her worldbuilding; I mean that it’s the kind of crap that racists and misogynists always spout, the kind of thing that is full of holes and falls apart the moment you apply critical thinking to it. It’s baseless and awful and rage-inducing, and hi, no, this book is not going to be good for your blood pressure.)
This is a USA in which sex ed consists of young men being told it’s their holy duty to keep the women in their lives away from the path of evil, and where young women are encouraged to spy on each other, to keep a watchful eye out for any signs that one of their peers might be a witch. It’s a USA in which women must be married by 30 to retain any form of independence – which, of course, isn’t real independence, because it all hinges on a (cishet) man who could take it away from you in an instant. And if you’re not married by the big three-oh, the government very much wants to know why, and you will be registered, and it just gets uglier from there.
Jo is 28, the point at which unmarried women have to start doing quarterly check-ins with the Bureau of Witchcraft. Coworkers are starting to give her weird looks; her family keeps dropping heavy-handed hints. Sure, she has Preston, but that’s really more a friends-with-benefits relationship – and anyway, how the hell is she supposed to love anybody enough to marry them when she has to? Doesn’t that kind of pressure make it impossible? If you need to marry someone to retain your basic human rights, how can you tell if you love them at all – or if you’re just giving in because you need them? How can you love someone you need that badly, for those reasons? And even if you do – how can that love not turn into seriously toxic resentment?
Jo is struggling with all of this when the most up-to-date version of her missing – presumed dead – mother’s will is finally found. It turns out that she left Jo a lot of money. But to claim it, Jo needs to visit a small island in Lake Superior on a specific date – and if she misses it, she’ll have to wait seven years for another chance.
Also, she needs to take a specific old doll with her when she goes.
It’s extremely weird, but Jo’s mom was known for being ‘different’ – which here just means, having her own interests and being passionate and outspoken about them. Being her own person within herself, rather than defining herself in relation to her husband and daughter.
But all of that made it very easy, when she then disappeared, for people to accuse her of being a witch. As her daughter (and, let’s be real, as a Black girl) kid!Jo was dragged into the Bureau and interrogated for days with questions that would be hilarious if they weren’t so sickening: did your mother eat babies, did she make you eat a baby, did she lead you to make a pact with the Devil? It’s kind of ironic – Jo’s mom thought witches were a hoax, that the whole system was just set up to control women – but reading the scenes were Jo remembers those days of interrogation was viscerally horrifying.
And then there’s the island.
Read the rest at Every Book a Doorway!
:edit: Now that I've read it for myself I wish I could give it 100 stars, holy GODS that was amazing!!!
Rtc!
:REVIEW:
HIGHLIGHTS
~one of the best takes on magic I have ever seen
~these spirits slap
~what if it was the law for women to marry by 30?
~absolutely ALL the Feels
~The Handmaid’s Tale < THIS BOOK
Writing this review is going to be difficult for a number of reasons – I have a lot of Feels that are going to be hard to put into words; The Women Could Fly deals with a number of difficult themes that deserve to be commented upon thoughtfully; and of course, it’s a book about a Black queer woman experiencing that combination of racism and misogyny and queerphobia that I, the whitest of white snowflakes, have only an academic understanding of.
But also, I have almost no notes for this review. Because after the first chapter, I couldn’t put the book down long enough to write any!
That should give you an immediate idea of how compulsively readable The Women Could Fly is.
Jo lives in a USA where witches exist, and to be convicted of witchcraft often still means being burnt at the stake. Witches are evil; witches are powerful; and witches are women. Witches are especially often BIPOC women, because the ‘baser natures’ of non-whites makes them more susceptible to the call of the Devil. Or something.
(I don’t say ‘or something’ with the implication that Giddings hasn’t done her worldbuilding; I mean that it’s the kind of crap that racists and misogynists always spout, the kind of thing that is full of holes and falls apart the moment you apply critical thinking to it. It’s baseless and awful and rage-inducing, and hi, no, this book is not going to be good for your blood pressure.)
This is a USA in which sex ed consists of young men being told it’s their holy duty to keep the women in their lives away from the path of evil, and where young women are encouraged to spy on each other, to keep a watchful eye out for any signs that one of their peers might be a witch. It’s a USA in which women must be married by 30 to retain any form of independence – which, of course, isn’t real independence, because it all hinges on a (cishet) man who could take it away from you in an instant. And if you’re not married by the big three-oh, the government very much wants to know why, and you will be registered, and it just gets uglier from there.
Jo is 28, the point at which unmarried women have to start doing quarterly check-ins with the Bureau of Witchcraft. Coworkers are starting to give her weird looks; her family keeps dropping heavy-handed hints. Sure, she has Preston, but that’s really more a friends-with-benefits relationship – and anyway, how the hell is she supposed to love anybody enough to marry them when she has to? Doesn’t that kind of pressure make it impossible? If you need to marry someone to retain your basic human rights, how can you tell if you love them at all – or if you’re just giving in because you need them? How can you love someone you need that badly, for those reasons? And even if you do – how can that love not turn into seriously toxic resentment?
Jo is struggling with all of this when the most up-to-date version of her missing – presumed dead – mother’s will is finally found. It turns out that she left Jo a lot of money. But to claim it, Jo needs to visit a small island in Lake Superior on a specific date – and if she misses it, she’ll have to wait seven years for another chance.
Also, she needs to take a specific old doll with her when she goes.
It’s extremely weird, but Jo’s mom was known for being ‘different’ – which here just means, having her own interests and being passionate and outspoken about them. Being her own person within herself, rather than defining herself in relation to her husband and daughter.
But all of that made it very easy, when she then disappeared, for people to accuse her of being a witch. As her daughter (and, let’s be real, as a Black girl) kid!Jo was dragged into the Bureau and interrogated for days with questions that would be hilarious if they weren’t so sickening: did your mother eat babies, did she make you eat a baby, did she lead you to make a pact with the Devil? It’s kind of ironic – Jo’s mom thought witches were a hoax, that the whole system was just set up to control women – but reading the scenes were Jo remembers those days of interrogation was viscerally horrifying.
And then there’s the island.
Read the rest at Every Book a Doorway!
August 7, 2022
4.5 stars
I want to start by saying that this is not a book for everyone. The Woman Could Fly, similar to the authors debut novel, appears to be written for a niche audience and I am one of those people.
The Woman Could Fly is a social commentary dystopian novel that follows Josephine “Jo” in a world similar to our own, with one major difference- witches are real, woman are closely monitored and must be married before the age of 30. In other words, woman have no autonomy especially queer women of color.
Using the disappearance of Jo’s mom, this book explores the autonomy and limits of women’s lives in a such a way that leaves you questioning how free are we really?
This book dealt with a lot of difficult themes and did so in a way that felt both authentic and relatable to me as a Black woman. Although witches are real in this book and are essentially burnt at the stake if found out, many of the racist, misogynistic, homophobic elements are very much true and relevant in our current world and political system.
Overall, I thought this was a great book! The characters were dynamic and believable, the commentary was rich and well written, and the plot drew me in from start to finish.
Thank you to Harper Collins for the ARC of this book. All thoughts are my own and did not influence this review
I want to start by saying that this is not a book for everyone. The Woman Could Fly, similar to the authors debut novel, appears to be written for a niche audience and I am one of those people.
The Woman Could Fly is a social commentary dystopian novel that follows Josephine “Jo” in a world similar to our own, with one major difference- witches are real, woman are closely monitored and must be married before the age of 30. In other words, woman have no autonomy especially queer women of color.
Using the disappearance of Jo’s mom, this book explores the autonomy and limits of women’s lives in a such a way that leaves you questioning how free are we really?
This book dealt with a lot of difficult themes and did so in a way that felt both authentic and relatable to me as a Black woman. Although witches are real in this book and are essentially burnt at the stake if found out, many of the racist, misogynistic, homophobic elements are very much true and relevant in our current world and political system.
Overall, I thought this was a great book! The characters were dynamic and believable, the commentary was rich and well written, and the plot drew me in from start to finish.
Thank you to Harper Collins for the ARC of this book. All thoughts are my own and did not influence this review
October 2, 2022
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3 ¼ stars
Megan Giddings’s sophomore novel is highly evocative of those The Handmaid’s Tale inspired dystopias where readers are presented with a near-future where women—sometimes men—live in authoritarian societies where they have limited rights and freedoms and are under near-constant surveillance. When Women Could Fly does offer a more topical take on this genre, especially with what is going on with abortion laws in the States, and although the reality it presents us with is embedded with fantastical elements, reading this story still sent a chill up my spine. While this has been also compared to Shirley Jackson and Octavia Butler, personally I don’t quite see it. If anything Giddings’ novel was highly reminiscent of those early 2010s YA, where the female protagonists are often forced into marriage (this is not meant as a 'snub' as i remember being quite into them). Expect that Giddings’ more mature tone allows for more in-depth conversations about gender and racial discrimination, female bodily autonomy, reproductive justice, surveillance and privacy, and the ye old fear of that which is deemed ‘other’. The imagery and aesthetics did make me think of several horror films produced by A24, and part of me believes that maybe this story would translate better to the screen. That is not to say that it was badly written, far from it. However, several lacunae in the world-building really took me out. Additionally, the pacing was a bit all over the place, particularly in the latter half of the novel.
In this America witch trials are still a thing. To prevent women from becoming witches, the government closely monitors them, watching for any signs of ‘witchy’ stuff. While false allegations are punishable by law, most girls and women live in fear of being accused. The government also requires women over 30 to either marry (a man) or lose almost all forms of autonomy (such as having a job). Some women do choose this option, and are registered as witches, and (if memory serves) under house arrest. Women of color, Black women in particular, are even more heavily scrutinized, especially those like Josephine Thomas, whose own mother is believed to have been a witch after she ‘vanished’ overnight. Josephine, now 28, is ready to accept that her mother will never come back. Josephine has come to resent her mother: for leaving, for leaving without her, and for making her ‘suspect’ in the eyes of the government. With her 30th birthday approaching Jo finds herself forced to consider her options. She doesn’t want to give up her job at the museum, where they are actually somehow allowed to have an exhibition by a verified witch. She is seeing this guy who she kind of likes but feels frustrated by the societal pressure to marry him. Her father, a white guy, is not particularly close to her and he offered little support when Jo was under investigation after the disappearance of his wife.
The narrative opens with Jo having decided to officialize her mother’s death. Her mother’s will includes some specific directions she is to follow in order to then access her inheritance. Jo follows said directions and finds herself coming into contact with a reality that is very different from her own one.
I really liked the writing style, and the ambivalence permeating much of Jo’s narration, in particular in moments when she thinks of her mother or of the way women are treated. I also liked some of the vaguer aspects of this ‘reality’, and I was briefly at times reminded of Kazuo Ishiguro’s ‘what-ifs’, where he very much focuses on a group of people and is able to capture their experiences without delving into many details about their world and the society they live.
Alas, here the author is inconsistently vague. We will learn that other countries have possibly banned witch-hunts/the monitoring of women but that’s more or less it when it comes to the outside world (“I cry sometimes thinking about how we’re the only developed country to let this still happen.”). Why don’t more women leave the States? Are they banned from doing so? The story may mention this but so briefly that it didn’t really sink in. In addition, we have a registered witch being allowed to have her art in a gallery… which threw me off a little. Why would the government allow her to do that? Her installations and pieces are fairly unsettling and very ‘witchy’...wouldn’t they worry about this being some sort of witch propaganda? The author is also quite inconsistent when it comes to lgbtq+ visibility and rights. In this extremely authoritarian and deeply conformist country, people identify as lgbtq+...Jo included. She’s bi and ‘out’. Her father isn’t keen on it and she knows she will be unable to marry anyone other than a man but I still wasn’t sure of the kind of rights lgbtq+ ppl had. Jo refers to herself as cis and acknowledges that the whole “women=maybe witch” thing her country has going on excludes ppl who identify outside of the gender binary…but we don’t really go into much depth with that other than once Jo mentions that gay men are sometimes suspected of being witches…it also seemed weird that such an oppressive and reactionary government would ‘allow’ ppl to openly identify as lgbtq+. Still, we do get Angie’s perspective on this, who is using a matchmaker who specializes in arranging safe marriages for gay women (for example by choosing gay men as their spouses).
Also, how are YA books with dragons in them being allowed to be published in a country where magic is considered a real threat? Surely the fantasy genre would be banned?!
minor spoilers:
When we reach the halfway point, the story offers us insight into a community that is very different from the one Jo grew up in and once again I found myself having more questions, and the answers we do get didn’t entirely satisfy. The narrative suggests that they have been undetected due to ‘magic’ but I didn’t quite buy that. It also seemed weird that they would not reach out to more ppl. Jo’s motivations in the latter half of the novel were not entirely believable and the ending felt kind of rushed.
Still, despite my issues with the world-building (one too many holes, inconsistent) and plot (which is slow, fast, slow, fast, and with a few situations that clearly just exist to further the plot, even when they are not entirely convincing) I loved the author’s writing style, the parallelism between Jo’s world and our world (“Sometimes, people say Isn’t it lucky to be a woman now?”...kid you not a male colleague of mine said something along these lines and followed with “it is men who have it hard nowadays”), the use of witchcraft as a metaphor for ‘otherness’, the soft magic, the aesthetics, and the friendship between Jo and Angie.
The author does pose some interesting questions about the ‘cost’ of personal freedom, and throughout the narrative she interrogates themes such as love, equality, guilt, and forgiveness. Additionally, I appreciated the nuanced mother-daughter relationship. Part of me was annoyed at the romance subplot, which in my opinion takes away from ‘page time’ from non-romantic relationships. The writing has this hypnotic, remote yet sharp, quality to it that brought to mind Lucy by Jamaica Kincaid. Giddings is certainly able to articulate thorny and ambiguous thoughts and feelings with clarity, however, she also allows Jo to retain a certain air of impenetrability. Jo's introspections were compelling and I was thoroughly spellbound by her voice. Like I said, the world-building and plot did get in the way of my totally loving this but to be honest I can see myself re-reading this and not minding as much.
Some quotes:
“But there was always an objectiveness that insulated me, always allowed me to stay cool and defuse the situation. It was better for everyone if I remained at least six inches distant. A space far enough for me to evaluate, assess, and then fix things.”
“But all the magic in these museums is the magic of the dead—corpses and curses and in its own way reminding women that if there is anything inexplicable in the world, it is dangerous.”
“I had expected a tightening as I grew older; I would like what I liked and that was the essence of who I was. But my personality gets easily seeped now with new details. I read something new, I watch something new, I eat something new and the world feels again like a place where I want to stay.”
“Magic was everywhere. It felt like when you’re young and with your best friend in the world and you look at each other and feel as if you’re both the most attractive, interesting, fun people in the entire room. There’s nothing embarrassing about this confidence because it’s the truest thing and it lets you both be your best selves for hours.”
“For years, my mother had been a wound I could never fully stitch, one that when I was being honest with myself, I didn’t ever want to scab over, fade, disappear.”
“[My] mother’s absence had been—I was sure—the source of some of the biggest, ugliest parts of me. And because of all that empty space around her, because of time, because of sadness, I had idealized her, too.”
“What is it about love? Why does it make everything seem so important when most people give their love so carelessly to people, to pets, to objects that will never love them back?”
“What was it like to be loved in a way that felt immutable? To not be told I was loved, but to feel it, to see it most of the time?”
3 ¼ stars
“This is the story of the witch who refused to burn. Some people said that there was power in her blood, a gift from her ancestors that she could endure.”
Megan Giddings’s sophomore novel is highly evocative of those The Handmaid’s Tale inspired dystopias where readers are presented with a near-future where women—sometimes men—live in authoritarian societies where they have limited rights and freedoms and are under near-constant surveillance. When Women Could Fly does offer a more topical take on this genre, especially with what is going on with abortion laws in the States, and although the reality it presents us with is embedded with fantastical elements, reading this story still sent a chill up my spine. While this has been also compared to Shirley Jackson and Octavia Butler, personally I don’t quite see it. If anything Giddings’ novel was highly reminiscent of those early 2010s YA, where the female protagonists are often forced into marriage (this is not meant as a 'snub' as i remember being quite into them). Expect that Giddings’ more mature tone allows for more in-depth conversations about gender and racial discrimination, female bodily autonomy, reproductive justice, surveillance and privacy, and the ye old fear of that which is deemed ‘other’. The imagery and aesthetics did make me think of several horror films produced by A24, and part of me believes that maybe this story would translate better to the screen. That is not to say that it was badly written, far from it. However, several lacunae in the world-building really took me out. Additionally, the pacing was a bit all over the place, particularly in the latter half of the novel.
In this America witch trials are still a thing. To prevent women from becoming witches, the government closely monitors them, watching for any signs of ‘witchy’ stuff. While false allegations are punishable by law, most girls and women live in fear of being accused. The government also requires women over 30 to either marry (a man) or lose almost all forms of autonomy (such as having a job). Some women do choose this option, and are registered as witches, and (if memory serves) under house arrest. Women of color, Black women in particular, are even more heavily scrutinized, especially those like Josephine Thomas, whose own mother is believed to have been a witch after she ‘vanished’ overnight. Josephine, now 28, is ready to accept that her mother will never come back. Josephine has come to resent her mother: for leaving, for leaving without her, and for making her ‘suspect’ in the eyes of the government. With her 30th birthday approaching Jo finds herself forced to consider her options. She doesn’t want to give up her job at the museum, where they are actually somehow allowed to have an exhibition by a verified witch. She is seeing this guy who she kind of likes but feels frustrated by the societal pressure to marry him. Her father, a white guy, is not particularly close to her and he offered little support when Jo was under investigation after the disappearance of his wife.
The narrative opens with Jo having decided to officialize her mother’s death. Her mother’s will includes some specific directions she is to follow in order to then access her inheritance. Jo follows said directions and finds herself coming into contact with a reality that is very different from her own one.
I really liked the writing style, and the ambivalence permeating much of Jo’s narration, in particular in moments when she thinks of her mother or of the way women are treated. I also liked some of the vaguer aspects of this ‘reality’, and I was briefly at times reminded of Kazuo Ishiguro’s ‘what-ifs’, where he very much focuses on a group of people and is able to capture their experiences without delving into many details about their world and the society they live.
Alas, here the author is inconsistently vague. We will learn that other countries have possibly banned witch-hunts/the monitoring of women but that’s more or less it when it comes to the outside world (“I cry sometimes thinking about how we’re the only developed country to let this still happen.”). Why don’t more women leave the States? Are they banned from doing so? The story may mention this but so briefly that it didn’t really sink in. In addition, we have a registered witch being allowed to have her art in a gallery… which threw me off a little. Why would the government allow her to do that? Her installations and pieces are fairly unsettling and very ‘witchy’...wouldn’t they worry about this being some sort of witch propaganda? The author is also quite inconsistent when it comes to lgbtq+ visibility and rights. In this extremely authoritarian and deeply conformist country, people identify as lgbtq+...Jo included. She’s bi and ‘out’. Her father isn’t keen on it and she knows she will be unable to marry anyone other than a man but I still wasn’t sure of the kind of rights lgbtq+ ppl had. Jo refers to herself as cis and acknowledges that the whole “women=maybe witch” thing her country has going on excludes ppl who identify outside of the gender binary…but we don’t really go into much depth with that other than once Jo mentions that gay men are sometimes suspected of being witches…it also seemed weird that such an oppressive and reactionary government would ‘allow’ ppl to openly identify as lgbtq+. Still, we do get Angie’s perspective on this, who is using a matchmaker who specializes in arranging safe marriages for gay women (for example by choosing gay men as their spouses).
Also, how are YA books with dragons in them being allowed to be published in a country where magic is considered a real threat? Surely the fantasy genre would be banned?!
minor spoilers:
When we reach the halfway point, the story offers us insight into a community that is very different from the one Jo grew up in and once again I found myself having more questions, and the answers we do get didn’t entirely satisfy. The narrative suggests that they have been undetected due to ‘magic’ but I didn’t quite buy that. It also seemed weird that they would not reach out to more ppl. Jo’s motivations in the latter half of the novel were not entirely believable and the ending felt kind of rushed.
Still, despite my issues with the world-building (one too many holes, inconsistent) and plot (which is slow, fast, slow, fast, and with a few situations that clearly just exist to further the plot, even when they are not entirely convincing) I loved the author’s writing style, the parallelism between Jo’s world and our world (“Sometimes, people say Isn’t it lucky to be a woman now?”...kid you not a male colleague of mine said something along these lines and followed with “it is men who have it hard nowadays”), the use of witchcraft as a metaphor for ‘otherness’, the soft magic, the aesthetics, and the friendship between Jo and Angie.
The author does pose some interesting questions about the ‘cost’ of personal freedom, and throughout the narrative she interrogates themes such as love, equality, guilt, and forgiveness. Additionally, I appreciated the nuanced mother-daughter relationship. Part of me was annoyed at the romance subplot, which in my opinion takes away from ‘page time’ from non-romantic relationships. The writing has this hypnotic, remote yet sharp, quality to it that brought to mind Lucy by Jamaica Kincaid. Giddings is certainly able to articulate thorny and ambiguous thoughts and feelings with clarity, however, she also allows Jo to retain a certain air of impenetrability. Jo's introspections were compelling and I was thoroughly spellbound by her voice. Like I said, the world-building and plot did get in the way of my totally loving this but to be honest I can see myself re-reading this and not minding as much.
Some quotes:
“But there was always an objectiveness that insulated me, always allowed me to stay cool and defuse the situation. It was better for everyone if I remained at least six inches distant. A space far enough for me to evaluate, assess, and then fix things.”
“But all the magic in these museums is the magic of the dead—corpses and curses and in its own way reminding women that if there is anything inexplicable in the world, it is dangerous.”
“I had expected a tightening as I grew older; I would like what I liked and that was the essence of who I was. But my personality gets easily seeped now with new details. I read something new, I watch something new, I eat something new and the world feels again like a place where I want to stay.”
“Magic was everywhere. It felt like when you’re young and with your best friend in the world and you look at each other and feel as if you’re both the most attractive, interesting, fun people in the entire room. There’s nothing embarrassing about this confidence because it’s the truest thing and it lets you both be your best selves for hours.”
“For years, my mother had been a wound I could never fully stitch, one that when I was being honest with myself, I didn’t ever want to scab over, fade, disappear.”
“[My] mother’s absence had been—I was sure—the source of some of the biggest, ugliest parts of me. And because of all that empty space around her, because of time, because of sadness, I had idealized her, too.”
“What is it about love? Why does it make everything seem so important when most people give their love so carelessly to people, to pets, to objects that will never love them back?”
“What was it like to be loved in a way that felt immutable? To not be told I was loved, but to feel it, to see it most of the time?”
October 7, 2023
I liked the message about how women face so much pressure to get married and live a heteronormative, amatonormative life by their late 20’s. Other than that, though, this book confused me – I found the pacing off and the fantasy elements difficult to buy into. Appreciate the naming of racism and sexism, though unfortunately this book won’t stick with me much.
October 3, 2022
After loving what Giddings did with Lakewood I had very high hopes for this. But while The Women Could Fly has moments of depth and ambitious scope, it is bogged down by excessive exposition and a setup that does little to differentiate itself from the recent flood of feminist dystopian novels. Don't get me wrong, I like a good feminist dystopian, but this book was low on explanation and details, high on vibes and witchiness. That said, I do appreciate how this book is centering some queer identities in the dystopia it has created (though not much is said about trans or nonbinary folx.)
In what feels like a mashup of the Salem witch trials and The Handmaid's Tale, our main character is a bisexual woman nearing the age of 30. By which time she must either be married or submit to intrusive government monitoring to ensure she isn't a witch. Her mother disappeared when she was a girl, but she has never been sure if she died or ran away. Honestly I think the strongest part of this novel was where it focused on this fraught mother/daughter relationship. In a few different ways this is exploring whether love can be love when it's forced, and that extends to parenthood when it is essentially government mandated. There is a lot of heartache in scenes involving her mom and I thought that was very well done. I also love the way this represents bisexuality- we don't get enough of it done well.
That said, for a world that is too light on details, the world-building we DO get is delivered in lengthy passages of exposition that really do a disservice to the pacing of the novel. I like the creepy, messy view of witch women in community, but again we just didn't get enough of it. And I think the title may be a reference to this legend of flying Africans tied to dreams of escape from enslavement, but that connection is never made explicit.
Ultimately I had mixed feelings about this. I wanted to love it more than I did. However the audio narration is excellent. I received an audio copy for review from Libro. FM. All opinions are my own.
In what feels like a mashup of the Salem witch trials and The Handmaid's Tale, our main character is a bisexual woman nearing the age of 30. By which time she must either be married or submit to intrusive government monitoring to ensure she isn't a witch. Her mother disappeared when she was a girl, but she has never been sure if she died or ran away. Honestly I think the strongest part of this novel was where it focused on this fraught mother/daughter relationship. In a few different ways this is exploring whether love can be love when it's forced, and that extends to parenthood when it is essentially government mandated. There is a lot of heartache in scenes involving her mom and I thought that was very well done. I also love the way this represents bisexuality- we don't get enough of it done well.
That said, for a world that is too light on details, the world-building we DO get is delivered in lengthy passages of exposition that really do a disservice to the pacing of the novel. I like the creepy, messy view of witch women in community, but again we just didn't get enough of it. And I think the title may be a reference to this legend of flying Africans tied to dreams of escape from enslavement, but that connection is never made explicit.
Ultimately I had mixed feelings about this. I wanted to love it more than I did. However the audio narration is excellent. I received an audio copy for review from Libro. FM. All opinions are my own.
October 5, 2022
The memorial days for witches. People - descendants, historians, witch rights advocates - gather in areas where known trials and burnings and executions had happened. They carry white and pink candles or large amounts of rosemary and fern. They say the names of the remembered dead. Someone plays a flute. They say, "Let it not happen again." Someone rings a bell. They say, "Let their souls have peace." The bell rings again/ "Let it not happen again. Women need equal protection and security in the face of the law. Let it not happen again."
I hate the passive voice of "Let it not happen again." I went to memorial days a few times with my dad as a teenager, and once I asked him, "Why don't we say something like, 'We will beat the asses of anyone who tries to start this shit again'?"
I really enjoyed Lakewood, but The Women Could Fly I absolutely loved - a dystopian witch novel tackling themes of oppression and racism, while telling an absolutely spell-binding (sorry) story.
Josephine and her father have just had her mother declared officially dead - missing for fourteen years, she's nevertheless cast a heavy shadow over their lives. This is a United States (and a world, to a much lesser extent) where witchcraft is real, where women are monitored and must marry before thirty or become a ward of the state; for their own protection, and the safety of those around them, of course. But in her mother, Tiana's, will, Josephine has a task to fulfil before she can claim her estate; a visit to an island she knows only through what she thought were made up stories her mother told her.
Megan Giddings has a way of sometimes saying the quiet parts out loud that really caught me, more than once. The kind of things I didn't know anyone could get down into words that got the feeling across so effectively, the kind of things I didn't even know anyone else had felt. And I love that at 36, I still get to have that moment of surprise at being seen - it's its own kind of magic, that moment. The Women Could Fly isn't perfect; there's a bit of a gloss over why women stay in the United States, and no details on the situation in the rest of the world besides a brief aside about what it would take to emigrate to New Zealand. I also found the witchy reality TV and the museum of artifacts slightly puzzling against the very extreme witch-controls that existed.
But although I'll point them out, I found them easy to overlook against the rest of the book. Josephine and Angie's friendship was a master study in friendship, and the contrast with her dynamic with Preston brought out extra angles on both sides. The heavy topics covered couldn't outweigh the delight in some of the freedoms our protagonist discovered, and magic itself was a satisfyingly earthy and visceral delight. I already want to read this again to go back over it and dig into the details.
Really loved this, and with her trajectory so far, I am super excited to see what's next from Megan Giddings.
I hate the passive voice of "Let it not happen again." I went to memorial days a few times with my dad as a teenager, and once I asked him, "Why don't we say something like, 'We will beat the asses of anyone who tries to start this shit again'?"
I really enjoyed Lakewood, but The Women Could Fly I absolutely loved - a dystopian witch novel tackling themes of oppression and racism, while telling an absolutely spell-binding (sorry) story.
Josephine and her father have just had her mother declared officially dead - missing for fourteen years, she's nevertheless cast a heavy shadow over their lives. This is a United States (and a world, to a much lesser extent) where witchcraft is real, where women are monitored and must marry before thirty or become a ward of the state; for their own protection, and the safety of those around them, of course. But in her mother, Tiana's, will, Josephine has a task to fulfil before she can claim her estate; a visit to an island she knows only through what she thought were made up stories her mother told her.
Megan Giddings has a way of sometimes saying the quiet parts out loud that really caught me, more than once. The kind of things I didn't know anyone could get down into words that got the feeling across so effectively, the kind of things I didn't even know anyone else had felt. And I love that at 36, I still get to have that moment of surprise at being seen - it's its own kind of magic, that moment. The Women Could Fly isn't perfect; there's a bit of a gloss over why women stay in the United States, and no details on the situation in the rest of the world besides a brief aside about what it would take to emigrate to New Zealand. I also found the witchy reality TV and the museum of artifacts slightly puzzling against the very extreme witch-controls that existed.
But although I'll point them out, I found them easy to overlook against the rest of the book. Josephine and Angie's friendship was a master study in friendship, and the contrast with her dynamic with Preston brought out extra angles on both sides. The heavy topics covered couldn't outweigh the delight in some of the freedoms our protagonist discovered, and magic itself was a satisfyingly earthy and visceral delight. I already want to read this again to go back over it and dig into the details.
Really loved this, and with her trajectory so far, I am super excited to see what's next from Megan Giddings.
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October 12, 2022
This BOOK.
Holy shit.
It's like When Women Were Dragons and Parable of the Sower got together and created this beautiful thing, a gorgeously written and fiercely biting social commentary on the intersection of race and gender and all of the ways the patriarchy and white society fights to keep Black women down, transformed into an allegory of witchcraft and control.
At its heart it's queer and Black and feminist and angry, but that anger is always tinged with hope and determination that things will be better and that women and queer people of color will not be contained even as the system works to reward people for control and reinforcement of the system.
And yet, even in the height of dystopia, there are women finding pockets of joy within the structures forcing them to conform, because joy and life and survival are their own kinds of resistance.
Also, there is AMAZING bi rep in this one!
I listened to the audiobook, and Angel Pean's voice brings Gidding's words to life. Literal life.
Holy shit.
It's like When Women Were Dragons and Parable of the Sower got together and created this beautiful thing, a gorgeously written and fiercely biting social commentary on the intersection of race and gender and all of the ways the patriarchy and white society fights to keep Black women down, transformed into an allegory of witchcraft and control.
At its heart it's queer and Black and feminist and angry, but that anger is always tinged with hope and determination that things will be better and that women and queer people of color will not be contained even as the system works to reward people for control and reinforcement of the system.
And yet, even in the height of dystopia, there are women finding pockets of joy within the structures forcing them to conform, because joy and life and survival are their own kinds of resistance.
Also, there is AMAZING bi rep in this one!
I listened to the audiobook, and Angel Pean's voice brings Gidding's words to life. Literal life.
November 1, 2022
DNF at 25%
I thought I was going to love this book based on the blurb. Sadly, I had to force myself to read every page and eventually gave up.
My biggest issue is the way it was written; the author constantly interrupts herself. We'll be following along the FMC as she goes to her storage locker. Then she'll think of something from her childhood and we get pages upon pages of narration about that--only to be thrust back into the storage locker for a page or two and then shot into a narration about something else.
I've enjoyed many a novel that have non-linear timelines. The Women Could Fly used none of the typical hints given to readers: no larger paragraph separation, no dates, and no clear delineation. More than jarring it was frustrating and impeded any ability to get into a flow state with my reading.
I thought I was going to love this book based on the blurb. Sadly, I had to force myself to read every page and eventually gave up.
My biggest issue is the way it was written; the author constantly interrupts herself. We'll be following along the FMC as she goes to her storage locker. Then she'll think of something from her childhood and we get pages upon pages of narration about that--only to be thrust back into the storage locker for a page or two and then shot into a narration about something else.
I've enjoyed many a novel that have non-linear timelines. The Women Could Fly used none of the typical hints given to readers: no larger paragraph separation, no dates, and no clear delineation. More than jarring it was frustrating and impeded any ability to get into a flow state with my reading.
May 11, 2024
I wish I could say I liked this more than I did as I love the topic and overall theme. As I've written before in any witch books I've reviewed, my first American ancestor was tried and hung as a witch in Connecticut in 1659, so naturally I gravitate to stories like this one. In a dystopian future similar to something Margaret Atwood might have imagined, witches are not only banned, but all women are basically thought to be witches and must be married to a man by 30 or kept under strict supervision.
Jo has lived her life in limbo after her mother disappeared over ten years ago without a trace, both her father and herself under constant surveillance due to the possibility of witchcraft. Unfortunately the book as written just did not read well for me. The writing seemed stilted and clunky, only working when there was dialogue. So this one was a disappointment for me, although the theme and story itself worked. 3 stars.
Jo has lived her life in limbo after her mother disappeared over ten years ago without a trace, both her father and herself under constant surveillance due to the possibility of witchcraft. Unfortunately the book as written just did not read well for me. The writing seemed stilted and clunky, only working when there was dialogue. So this one was a disappointment for me, although the theme and story itself worked. 3 stars.
October 7, 2022
Ah, my friends! This book is so good for the soul!
Such a moving, thought-provoking novel that drew me into a unique, fascinating world.
The story introduces us to 28-year-old Jo, whose mother disappeared fourteen years ago. Unfortunately, this combined with her black skin makes her a prime suspect for being a witch, leading to discrimination and the constant hounding from her father to ensure she's married (and therefore under the careful watch of a man) before she turns 30 (it's a long story).
That's a very brief, unworthy description and there is a lot more to unpack that drags you deep into this world of injustice. Yet it's never too much; the words are eloquent and precise so there's nothing superfluous - every sentence has meaning.
I really loved how much this got me thinking without trying too hard. The story presents the themes and deals with them realistically, and we're left to make our own assumptions and feel our own feelings. GOD I FELT FEELINGS.
There is a large focus on witchcraft, obviously, but the main focus is freedom. I loved how this novel delved into the meaning of freedom, and explored the limitations of freedom that comes with conditions.
I honestly don't know how to properly convey the affect this story had on me. It was whimsical and fun, sad, honest, diverse, thought-provoking, and uplifting.
This is a witchy tale of feminism and freedom and easily one of the most moving novels I've read this year. Highly recommend.
Such a moving, thought-provoking novel that drew me into a unique, fascinating world.
The story introduces us to 28-year-old Jo, whose mother disappeared fourteen years ago. Unfortunately, this combined with her black skin makes her a prime suspect for being a witch, leading to discrimination and the constant hounding from her father to ensure she's married (and therefore under the careful watch of a man) before she turns 30 (it's a long story).
That's a very brief, unworthy description and there is a lot more to unpack that drags you deep into this world of injustice. Yet it's never too much; the words are eloquent and precise so there's nothing superfluous - every sentence has meaning.
I really loved how much this got me thinking without trying too hard. The story presents the themes and deals with them realistically, and we're left to make our own assumptions and feel our own feelings. GOD I FELT FEELINGS.
There is a large focus on witchcraft, obviously, but the main focus is freedom. I loved how this novel delved into the meaning of freedom, and explored the limitations of freedom that comes with conditions.
I honestly don't know how to properly convey the affect this story had on me. It was whimsical and fun, sad, honest, diverse, thought-provoking, and uplifting.
This is a witchy tale of feminism and freedom and easily one of the most moving novels I've read this year. Highly recommend.
May 24, 2022
I really wanted to love this story but I’m afraid overall it was a bit ‘marmite’ for me. I enjoyed the opening of the novel and it’s world setting. I must admit I got a little lost during the middle section but I’m sure there are readers much wiser than me who would understand the imagery much better. The end of the novel tied things up well . A dystopian novel where women have to marry by the age of 28 to be watched by their husbands in case they are witches and where you can still be burnt if you are found guilty of being a witch, where homophobia, racism and sexism pervades society and yes magic and witches are real. Overall I personally felt the novel missed its mark but I think that other readers will love it. As I said a ‘marmite’ novel. Thank you NetGalley, the publisher and the author for giving me the opportunity of reading this novel in return for an honest opinion.
November 9, 2022
This book has given me a book hangover. I miss Jo and yearn to know more about her path. I’d say the writing is kind of stream of consciousness as Jo constantly interrupts her thoughts with other thoughts and memories, but I loved it. As with her previous work Lakewood, there are many questions unanswered but I’ll ponder them and their deeper meaning while I await Giddings next release!
December 25, 2022
This is phenomenal.
So much better than I was expecting or anticipating.
This is heavily feminist, unlike The Handmaid's Tale, which is white feminism.
well done.
So much better than I was expecting or anticipating.
This is heavily feminist, unlike The Handmaid's Tale, which is white feminism.
well done.
August 10, 2022
Was it possible to ever love someone under duress?
3.5 stars. Definitely up there with the most interesting witch stories I've ever read? Though I'm not sure how in love I am with the execution. It's a paranormal/dystopian world where the practice of witch trials have survived into the modern era, and the laws and social norms have changed to reflect that. It's a deeply misogynistic world where women are 'encouraged' to be married by 30, same sex relationships are frowned upon at best, and people can still be burned at the stake for witchcraft. It's very Handmaid's Tale, but make it paranormal, and told from the perspective of a black, bisexual woman who's not far from turning 30. Jo's mother disappeared 15 years ago, and the story follows what happens as she begins to accept that her mother is most likely dead.
Stories like this have been done before (and not always particularly well), and the ways in which it's different are what made me enjoy this. In a lot of the stories like this, dystopian horrors that envision an even more misogynist world, we might get side characters who are queer or women of colour. Here, it was refreshing to have a protagonist who was both of those things, and who knows what it's like to have the injustices of this world slam down on her from multiple fronts. A lot of these feminists critiques also tend to ignore trans people, and it's sad that I have to pat a book on the back for not doing that, but here we are. (The commentary on trans stuff and how trans people are affected in this world wasn't particularly deep or nuanced, but it was there.) And just in general, I really enjoyed Jo as a character. This was written in a very lit-ficcy way, but it wasn't annoying, and so many of her fears and foibles were relatable. The writing was really engaging and insightful; thought-provoking without ever really holding my hand about it. (At least, not too much.) It's clearly meant to mirror real life in a lot of ways, and when it does it's chilling and effective. A teensy bit on the nose, but I mean, I can't complain about that. Much.
The plot was okay; I did kind of like the meandering, flashback-heavy style of it. Flashbacks tend to annoy me, but I ended up really liking the way they were interwoven into the plot here. The story didn't hold my attention all the time, and did kinda lose me in the second half. I didn't dislike what happened, but some of the character motivations and actions did throw me a little? I don't know. I wanted a little bit more. Jo has a few relationships and I liked all of them, but we didn't get enough for me to love any of them. (Except maybe her relationship with her best friend.)
Listened to the audiobook as read by Angel Pean, which I enjoyed a lot. I picked this up entirely on a whim, and I'm kinda glad I went into it totally blind, because I'm not sure if I'd have been sold on the concept, had someone told it to me. I'm glad, again, that if I had to read this plot again, I at least got it through the lens of the kind of marginalised voice that's often ignored/side-lined in these dystopias.
Content warnings:
All the magic in these museums is the magic of the dead, corpses and curses, and in its own way, reminding women that if there is anything inexplicable in the world, it is dangerous.
November 29, 2022
Stopped reading at this bit, which was on page 2:
"And what did being a witch have to do with being married? Didn’t that seem suspicious? And what about how magic makes it tied to gender expression? How science can’t even prove any links? Doesn’t that seem a little too perfect? It seemed like that made it even easier to oppress two groups of people: women and anyone who did not conform to cisgender standards."
Ah, yes. "Gender expression." Didn't those stupid women know they could just cut their hair and slap on some trousers and all would be well? Women have been oppressed for millennia because we CHOSE to "express" our "gender" in a specific way, then? How stupid do you think all women are? Not to mention the absolutely insane follow-up: all those "trans" people who got burnt during the witch trials. Nevermind the fact that transgenderism was only made up a few decades ago.
Absolutely ridiculous. If someone claims to be a feminist and then includes the oppressors of women in the category of women, you know you're wasting your time.
I'm sick of cowards who are too afraid to name male violence and too afraid to admit that women, as a class, exist and have our own unique history of oppression based on our biological sex, NOT our "gender identity" or "expression". ABSOLUTELY INSULTING towards all women.
There isn't enough time in life to read this drivel. Will wait to read feminism-inspired fiction until this genderism fad is over.
"And what did being a witch have to do with being married? Didn’t that seem suspicious? And what about how magic makes it tied to gender expression? How science can’t even prove any links? Doesn’t that seem a little too perfect? It seemed like that made it even easier to oppress two groups of people: women and anyone who did not conform to cisgender standards."
Ah, yes. "Gender expression." Didn't those stupid women know they could just cut their hair and slap on some trousers and all would be well? Women have been oppressed for millennia because we CHOSE to "express" our "gender" in a specific way, then? How stupid do you think all women are? Not to mention the absolutely insane follow-up: all those "trans" people who got burnt during the witch trials. Nevermind the fact that transgenderism was only made up a few decades ago.
Absolutely ridiculous. If someone claims to be a feminist and then includes the oppressors of women in the category of women, you know you're wasting your time.
I'm sick of cowards who are too afraid to name male violence and too afraid to admit that women, as a class, exist and have our own unique history of oppression based on our biological sex, NOT our "gender identity" or "expression". ABSOLUTELY INSULTING towards all women.
There isn't enough time in life to read this drivel. Will wait to read feminism-inspired fiction until this genderism fad is over.
September 11, 2022
The Women Could Fly is an eerie, prescient novel with the sharp social commentary I suspect will become characteristic of Giddings’ writing. She “explores the limits women face—and the powers they have to transgress and transcend them”. You will finish The Women Could Fly with an intense desire to jump on a broomstick and dance naked under the moon – or, at the very least, write a letter to your local representative.
My full review of The Women Could Fly is up now on Keeping Up With The Penguins.
My full review of The Women Could Fly is up now on Keeping Up With The Penguins.
October 22, 2022
First off, I am not a huge fan of dystopian fiction so my rating may be lower than a lot of readers. While I appreciate the overall themes (oppression, surveillance, women who no longer have the authority to speak their minds so they just disappear into their husband's shadow, not having a safe place to call home), I had trouble with the disjointed writing especially with the meandering flashbacks. But...Chapter 34 is 4 ⭐️.
September 11, 2022
parts of this were so strong: the lore, world building, mother/daughter dynamic, & mirroring of current societal injustices. it dragged a bit & at times i was ambivalent about where the narrative was headed. still, i'm glad to have read this & will read more of her work.
August 21, 2022
Actual Rating: 3.5/5 stars
“This is the story of the witch who refused to burn."
I seem to be of a minority opinion on this one, in not falling head over heels in love with this novel. Instead, for a novel with so much emotional potential, I felt unexpectedly mellow about it; hence my smack-down-the-middle 3 star rating. In short: The Women Could Fly is the latest addition into the quickly saturating genre of feminist dystopia’s, that fails to stick out amongst the bunch by playing it surprisingly safe.
Megan Giddings’ alternate America is an authoritarian, highly patriarchal society, where women are under constant oppression and surveillance, and run the risk of being trialled as witches if they don’t conform. Especially if they happen to be single, black, poor, or otherwise “divergent” from the ideal housewife. Josephine’s mum was one of these “witches”, who disappeared and was never seen for 14 years. Was she executed as a witch, murdered or did she escape to live a life somewhere free of these societal constraints? With queer, black and single Josephine approaching the age of 30, more and more suspicious glances are being cast her way, and the answer to those questions might be the only thing that could save her. When she’s offered the opportunity to honour one last request from her mother’s will (to travel to a magical island sanctuary for witches that only presents itself once every 7 years), Jo embarks on a journey for answers.
What I liked:
The Women Could Fly is a feminist dystopian novel first, and a generational tale of the relationship between the women in Jo’s family secondly. It was that secondary plotline however, that drew my attention at first, and throughout offered the most powerful moments of the story. Jo’s was only 14 when her mother went missing, and as such, her mother’s absence is as much of a presence in her life as anything. This “chalk-outline-of-a-mother” shaped her teenage years, the bond with her dad, and her future relationships. As someone who lost a mother at a young age, this was where the novel shone and related to me the strongest. From trying to gleam any information about your missing parent through stories of others and mundane objects and “creating a narrative around them”, to falling in the risk of creating an idealized image in your mind: Giddings did an incredible job of writing this dynamic. I especially also loved the part of the story that take part on the island, where the ideas that Jo created about her mother are challenged. It tackles a fascinating, but scary question that many of us have asked ourselves: what if we could meet our missing loved once again for a conversation, after all these years have passed? Would it be the way we remember? Would they be the way we remember…?
Unfortunately, after this section, Giddings quickly shifts focus back to society at large, which is where the story began to lose me.
What I didn’t like:
Despite many others calling this novel “timely”, to me it felt actually like the wrong book at the wrong time. As mentioned: I feel this particular genre is becoming quite over-saturated and I’m starting to burn out on reading the same story of “women rebelling against patriarchy” over- and over again. There was the YA-trend of “forced marriage” in the early 2010’s (think Wither), classics like The Handmaid's Tale and The Crucible, and recent big releases like The Bass Rock, Sorrowlandand one of my latest reviews: The Seawomen. The Women Could Fly feels a dime a dozen and didn’t quite manage to add anything new to the mix.
I also struggled with the worldbuilding quite a bit. For starters, there are big sections of info-dumping that disrupt the pacing throughout and made the whole feel disjointed. Despite that there were still some plotholes left, especially when it came to the world at large. Many questions are left unclear: what is society like in different parts of the world? Why don’t more women simply leave the country? What exactly are the LGBTQ-implications like, since it is mentioned that only women can be witches and therefore men aren’t persecuted. But what about trans- and non-binary people? And what about same-sex couples? What about other kinds of intersectional discrimination? The painful part is that all of these questions are touched upon in the novel itself, but never explored in depth. We cannot resent the author for not thinking of these topics (after all: they are mentioned in passing), but it feels more like a namedrop than an exploration. Personally, I would’ve hoped for a bit more depth and the subsequent spice that might have come with that.
Many thanks to Pan MacMillan for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
“This is the story of the witch who refused to burn."
I seem to be of a minority opinion on this one, in not falling head over heels in love with this novel. Instead, for a novel with so much emotional potential, I felt unexpectedly mellow about it; hence my smack-down-the-middle 3 star rating. In short: The Women Could Fly is the latest addition into the quickly saturating genre of feminist dystopia’s, that fails to stick out amongst the bunch by playing it surprisingly safe.
Megan Giddings’ alternate America is an authoritarian, highly patriarchal society, where women are under constant oppression and surveillance, and run the risk of being trialled as witches if they don’t conform. Especially if they happen to be single, black, poor, or otherwise “divergent” from the ideal housewife. Josephine’s mum was one of these “witches”, who disappeared and was never seen for 14 years. Was she executed as a witch, murdered or did she escape to live a life somewhere free of these societal constraints? With queer, black and single Josephine approaching the age of 30, more and more suspicious glances are being cast her way, and the answer to those questions might be the only thing that could save her. When she’s offered the opportunity to honour one last request from her mother’s will (to travel to a magical island sanctuary for witches that only presents itself once every 7 years), Jo embarks on a journey for answers.
What I liked:
The Women Could Fly is a feminist dystopian novel first, and a generational tale of the relationship between the women in Jo’s family secondly. It was that secondary plotline however, that drew my attention at first, and throughout offered the most powerful moments of the story. Jo’s was only 14 when her mother went missing, and as such, her mother’s absence is as much of a presence in her life as anything. This “chalk-outline-of-a-mother” shaped her teenage years, the bond with her dad, and her future relationships. As someone who lost a mother at a young age, this was where the novel shone and related to me the strongest. From trying to gleam any information about your missing parent through stories of others and mundane objects and “creating a narrative around them”, to falling in the risk of creating an idealized image in your mind: Giddings did an incredible job of writing this dynamic. I especially also loved the part of the story that take part on the island, where the ideas that Jo created about her mother are challenged. It tackles a fascinating, but scary question that many of us have asked ourselves: what if we could meet our missing loved once again for a conversation, after all these years have passed? Would it be the way we remember? Would they be the way we remember…?
Unfortunately, after this section, Giddings quickly shifts focus back to society at large, which is where the story began to lose me.
What I didn’t like:
Despite many others calling this novel “timely”, to me it felt actually like the wrong book at the wrong time. As mentioned: I feel this particular genre is becoming quite over-saturated and I’m starting to burn out on reading the same story of “women rebelling against patriarchy” over- and over again. There was the YA-trend of “forced marriage” in the early 2010’s (think Wither), classics like The Handmaid's Tale and The Crucible, and recent big releases like The Bass Rock, Sorrowlandand one of my latest reviews: The Seawomen. The Women Could Fly feels a dime a dozen and didn’t quite manage to add anything new to the mix.
I also struggled with the worldbuilding quite a bit. For starters, there are big sections of info-dumping that disrupt the pacing throughout and made the whole feel disjointed. Despite that there were still some plotholes left, especially when it came to the world at large. Many questions are left unclear: what is society like in different parts of the world? Why don’t more women simply leave the country? What exactly are the LGBTQ-implications like, since it is mentioned that only women can be witches and therefore men aren’t persecuted. But what about trans- and non-binary people? And what about same-sex couples? What about other kinds of intersectional discrimination? The painful part is that all of these questions are touched upon in the novel itself, but never explored in depth. We cannot resent the author for not thinking of these topics (after all: they are mentioned in passing), but it feels more like a namedrop than an exploration. Personally, I would’ve hoped for a bit more depth and the subsequent spice that might have come with that.
Many thanks to Pan MacMillan for providing me with an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
May 23, 2022
Unfortunately this was another book that wasn't for me and I nearly gave up on it a few times. As it was offered as an ARC via NetGalley, I did push through and finish it to give it a full review. For me, this book was far too full of exposition and it seems to ignore the classic writing rule of "show, don't tell" as there are large passages of telling you things. It might appeal to a younger audience as there are plenty of references to current fads; hair dyed "plastic-unicorn-toy-pink", anyone? There are also a noticeably high number of uses of the "f-word". I can swear like a sailor when the occasion calls for it so I am not a prude however when the word is used excessively, especially in the narrative, I find it off-putting.
The author also repeatedly used a device of characters telling stories to the main protagonist. What is the problem with that? Nothing in theory, however in practice this felt incredibly contrived. For example "When you were a child, I told you stories...This one is called, 'The Witches and the Island in the Middle of the Lake." Reading this quote my first thought was wouldn't the protagonist already know that her mother told her stories? Secondly announcing the name of it before launching into a story of the form "Once there was..." felt awkward. This feeling was emphasised when later a different character told a story in exactly the same format.
I also did a bit of a double take when supposedly official government questions contained that pesky "f-word". If it was a standard set, would they use that word rather than the more benign "had sex with" or "had intercourse with"? When the government agents started with "...let me tell you a story" I was getting a severe sense of deja vu and decided that this was just not for me.
The author also repeatedly used a device of characters telling stories to the main protagonist. What is the problem with that? Nothing in theory, however in practice this felt incredibly contrived. For example "When you were a child, I told you stories...This one is called, 'The Witches and the Island in the Middle of the Lake." Reading this quote my first thought was wouldn't the protagonist already know that her mother told her stories? Secondly announcing the name of it before launching into a story of the form "Once there was..." felt awkward. This feeling was emphasised when later a different character told a story in exactly the same format.
I also did a bit of a double take when supposedly official government questions contained that pesky "f-word". If it was a standard set, would they use that word rather than the more benign "had sex with" or "had intercourse with"? When the government agents started with "...let me tell you a story" I was getting a severe sense of deja vu and decided that this was just not for me.
August 9, 2022
This is the second book that I have read by Megan Giddings, and I'll just start by saying that she has just a distinct writing style. It's a style reminiscent to watching a Jordan Peele movie, where much of the time you have no idea what is really happening until at a moment's notice it all clicks and makes sense. It vascillates between moving slowly and quickly throughout the entire book. It's not a style that everybody will love, but I find that I do.
Also, I love that her books are set in Michigan - since I grew up and spent most of my life there.
I enjoyed this book, it was full of rich social commentary while also being entertaining. I felt the gravity of it all as the book came to a conclusion. Everything in the book's world comes down to the same as in reality - control.
Thank you to Harper Collins and Netgalley for the chance to read this book before it's publish date.
Also, I love that her books are set in Michigan - since I grew up and spent most of my life there.
I enjoyed this book, it was full of rich social commentary while also being entertaining. I felt the gravity of it all as the book came to a conclusion. Everything in the book's world comes down to the same as in reality - control.
Thank you to Harper Collins and Netgalley for the chance to read this book before it's publish date.
August 24, 2022
For me, the best kind of dystopian fiction is where our world is only tilted slightly on its axis; a world where you close one eye and there you are, just a few small, but significant steps away from what we have.
Mingle that with witchcraft and magical realism and we have the makings of a perfect novel.
What Megan Giddings has created here is completely spellbinding (pun intended).
Josephine Thomas is 28, her father is white, her mother was black. She is single, bisexual and a creative. She doesn't fit into any of the required boxes of a what a woman is expected to be. Her mother disappeared 14 years ago under the suspicion of being a witch, Jo and her father, now believe her to be dead.
Born into a world where witches are still burned at the stake, where the State mandates that all women marry by the age of 30, or enroll in a registry that allows them to be monitored - either way, their autonomy is effectively forfeited. A place where 'odd' behaviour should be reported and women are interrogated and tortured on the suspicion of witchcraft.
.Amidst this subtly crafted world of the most terrifying patriarchy, we are blessed with a deeply affecting meditation on what it truly means to be a woman. Giddings accentuates the individuals living in the margins with dexterous sensitivity and masters the bigger issues at play today. Simultaneously, she produces a personally centered tale of romantic and familial love, one woman's search for who she actually is, in a world that is telling her who she should be at every turn.
Questions posed are wide reaching and captivating; what is the reality of true love when there is inequality in some form... where is morality and what are societal norms if you can do anything if you have enough money....just two from a myriad of wise and thoughtful prose.
And then, there is this idea of magic, of what it could be, a way of living, a community working together, a world that is at one with nature, a place where the emphasis is on learning and creating, not being rich or special. Not a utopia as such, as it isn't perfect - but what is perfection anyway...?
This book has a lot of perfection in it for me. If you like your literature to be speculative and your realism to be magical, if you enjoy a societal commentary with a heart at its centre, then this could be for you.
I loved it, this was truly stunning.
Mingle that with witchcraft and magical realism and we have the makings of a perfect novel.
What Megan Giddings has created here is completely spellbinding (pun intended).
Josephine Thomas is 28, her father is white, her mother was black. She is single, bisexual and a creative. She doesn't fit into any of the required boxes of a what a woman is expected to be. Her mother disappeared 14 years ago under the suspicion of being a witch, Jo and her father, now believe her to be dead.
Born into a world where witches are still burned at the stake, where the State mandates that all women marry by the age of 30, or enroll in a registry that allows them to be monitored - either way, their autonomy is effectively forfeited. A place where 'odd' behaviour should be reported and women are interrogated and tortured on the suspicion of witchcraft.
.Amidst this subtly crafted world of the most terrifying patriarchy, we are blessed with a deeply affecting meditation on what it truly means to be a woman. Giddings accentuates the individuals living in the margins with dexterous sensitivity and masters the bigger issues at play today. Simultaneously, she produces a personally centered tale of romantic and familial love, one woman's search for who she actually is, in a world that is telling her who she should be at every turn.
Questions posed are wide reaching and captivating; what is the reality of true love when there is inequality in some form... where is morality and what are societal norms if you can do anything if you have enough money....just two from a myriad of wise and thoughtful prose.
And then, there is this idea of magic, of what it could be, a way of living, a community working together, a world that is at one with nature, a place where the emphasis is on learning and creating, not being rich or special. Not a utopia as such, as it isn't perfect - but what is perfection anyway...?
This book has a lot of perfection in it for me. If you like your literature to be speculative and your realism to be magical, if you enjoy a societal commentary with a heart at its centre, then this could be for you.
I loved it, this was truly stunning.
November 25, 2022
I was so excited about this book and so badly wanted to love it. I was all in when I read the words, “in a world where witches are real”.
I considered giving up, but pushed through to the end in hopes of being rewarded for my commitment. Spoiler: I did not see the fruits of my labor. With 5 pages remaining in the book I was confused as to how the story was going to be wrapped up in such minimal time.
The concept is great, but the end result missed the mark in a big way.
The writing was so odd and jumbled. I found myself often re-reading strangely constructed sentences. The author would jump around, interrupting herself and rambling for pages, never to fully connect the relivancy of her interruption.
The author also ignored most traditional writing rules: very rarely using quotation marks, switching from first person to third person without any typical hints like paragraph or chapter breaks. I questioned my literacy throughout the whole journey.
I also have high suspicions that the author just recently learned the f-word and bought her first vape. These attempts at trying to make the characters relatable just made me cringe and double check to see if I had accidentally pulled a book from the YA section.
Overall, the writing style was not for me and my expectations were left sorely wanting. In my opinion, it did nothing new in the world of feminist dystopian novels although it had great potential to be a breath of fresh air.
I considered giving up, but pushed through to the end in hopes of being rewarded for my commitment. Spoiler: I did not see the fruits of my labor. With 5 pages remaining in the book I was confused as to how the story was going to be wrapped up in such minimal time.
The concept is great, but the end result missed the mark in a big way.
The writing was so odd and jumbled. I found myself often re-reading strangely constructed sentences. The author would jump around, interrupting herself and rambling for pages, never to fully connect the relivancy of her interruption.
The author also ignored most traditional writing rules: very rarely using quotation marks, switching from first person to third person without any typical hints like paragraph or chapter breaks. I questioned my literacy throughout the whole journey.
I also have high suspicions that the author just recently learned the f-word and bought her first vape. These attempts at trying to make the characters relatable just made me cringe and double check to see if I had accidentally pulled a book from the YA section.
Overall, the writing style was not for me and my expectations were left sorely wanting. In my opinion, it did nothing new in the world of feminist dystopian novels although it had great potential to be a breath of fresh air.
September 15, 2022
Beautiful, stunning, loved the social commentary being interwoven with witches. It's just speculative enough where the entire novel feels like we could so easily slip back into laws like this. Especially in the world where we live today.
I've had Lakewood on my list for quite some time and I think now I'm going to have to visit my backlog and read it.
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I've had Lakewood on my list for quite some time and I think now I'm going to have to visit my backlog and read it.
Bookish Brews | Ko-Fi | Twitter | Pinterest | Tumblr | Facebook
March 11, 2023
Two different narrative that are paced and structured differently and connects really well. A great read for dystopia worldbuilding that's grounded and anchored more in reality.
September 8, 2022
Prior to 2022 I would have found this book to be not very credible but with the overturning of Roe vs Wade, the restriction of voting rights, and other dissolutions of rights, this story is eerily believable.
In this not too distant future, after the slow chipping away of rights, women must marry (a man) before the age of 30 or register as a women with no rights, monitored every two weeks by a parole officer, and relegated for the rest of her life to be under the supervision of a man. And if you did anything unusual, you could be branded a witch, fined thousands of dollars and exiled, or burned at the stake. Literally.
White women were rarely branded witches (of course) and lesbians of color were the most frequent targets of accusations of witchcraft.
This is frighteningly real. We as women must stand up and fight this encroachment of our lives. Don’t sit back and let our rights slowly erode. Stand up for yourself!
If you like books by Margaret Atwood or Octavia Butler, you will like this book.
In this not too distant future, after the slow chipping away of rights, women must marry (a man) before the age of 30 or register as a women with no rights, monitored every two weeks by a parole officer, and relegated for the rest of her life to be under the supervision of a man. And if you did anything unusual, you could be branded a witch, fined thousands of dollars and exiled, or burned at the stake. Literally.
White women were rarely branded witches (of course) and lesbians of color were the most frequent targets of accusations of witchcraft.
This is frighteningly real. We as women must stand up and fight this encroachment of our lives. Don’t sit back and let our rights slowly erode. Stand up for yourself!
If you like books by Margaret Atwood or Octavia Butler, you will like this book.
April 15, 2023
Oh this ATE!
Incredibly up my alley. Dystopian as hell. It’s like Handmaid’s Tale meets I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself meets The School for Good Mothers but with WITCHES.
WITCHES!!!
An incredibly patriarchal society that criminalizes witchcraft & suspects every woman who steps a toe out of line to be one. At age fourteen, girls can be accused of witchcraft. So they must be polite. Be docile. If they are unmarried by age twenty-eight (or… gasp! queer!) they must register with the government & undergo tests to see if they are a witch. They are closely monitored.
Which is bad news for soon-to-be twenty-eight-year-old Jo, since she has been closely monitored since the day her mother went missing 14 years ago.
When Jo receives a cryptic message to go to a mysterious island that only appears every seven years in Lake Superior, she risks everything: her career, her freedom, her life.
There is such a heavy emphasis on storytelling. On mother-daughter relationships. On identity. On marginalization.
Though there is SO MUCH PLOT, this is still heavily character driven. It is very introspective. Slow. But GOD THE ENDING!!!
Just read it! For me! Pretty please!
Incredibly up my alley. Dystopian as hell. It’s like Handmaid’s Tale meets I Keep My Exoskeletons to Myself meets The School for Good Mothers but with WITCHES.
WITCHES!!!
An incredibly patriarchal society that criminalizes witchcraft & suspects every woman who steps a toe out of line to be one. At age fourteen, girls can be accused of witchcraft. So they must be polite. Be docile. If they are unmarried by age twenty-eight (or… gasp! queer!) they must register with the government & undergo tests to see if they are a witch. They are closely monitored.
Which is bad news for soon-to-be twenty-eight-year-old Jo, since she has been closely monitored since the day her mother went missing 14 years ago.
When Jo receives a cryptic message to go to a mysterious island that only appears every seven years in Lake Superior, she risks everything: her career, her freedom, her life.
There is such a heavy emphasis on storytelling. On mother-daughter relationships. On identity. On marginalization.
Though there is SO MUCH PLOT, this is still heavily character driven. It is very introspective. Slow. But GOD THE ENDING!!!
Just read it! For me! Pretty please!
September 10, 2022
Wow.
Circling back to say that I loved this book. I thought the atmosphere was eerie and palpable, the way the story unfolds is interesting and kind of unexpected (for me at least), and there were so many quotes I thought were interesting about feminism and racism, I tabbed the hell out of my copy. Just a very good book that would be super thought provoking heading into *witchy* season.
A great pick for speculative/sci-fi readers looking for solid social commentary and good writing.
Circling back to say that I loved this book. I thought the atmosphere was eerie and palpable, the way the story unfolds is interesting and kind of unexpected (for me at least), and there were so many quotes I thought were interesting about feminism and racism, I tabbed the hell out of my copy. Just a very good book that would be super thought provoking heading into *witchy* season.
A great pick for speculative/sci-fi readers looking for solid social commentary and good writing.
May 21, 2022
So I never used to read many dustopia stories... but lately I cannot resist and this one had me at "set in a world where witches are real"
This story is a dystopian image of what it's like to live in a man's world, where unmarried women have to register at the age of 28. They have to find a husband before 30 to keep any kind of rights such as the ability to continue to work. Where women are suspected of witch craft and condemned for such acts.
This story is truly relatable what with acts of racism, homophobia and sexism throughout. So really this world wasn't too far from our own.
The story rambles on a bit in places but I felt it added more depth to the story giving us an opportunity to explore their world and in turn our own. The author really deserves credit for her descriptions as it bought it all the life.
I truly recommend this book to any and all dystopia fans... such a great read!!
Thank you to Netgalley and Pan Macmillan for.providing me with an E-Arc of this book in exchange for an honest review.
This story is a dystopian image of what it's like to live in a man's world, where unmarried women have to register at the age of 28. They have to find a husband before 30 to keep any kind of rights such as the ability to continue to work. Where women are suspected of witch craft and condemned for such acts.
This story is truly relatable what with acts of racism, homophobia and sexism throughout. So really this world wasn't too far from our own.
The story rambles on a bit in places but I felt it added more depth to the story giving us an opportunity to explore their world and in turn our own. The author really deserves credit for her descriptions as it bought it all the life.
I truly recommend this book to any and all dystopia fans... such a great read!!
Thank you to Netgalley and Pan Macmillan for.providing me with an E-Arc of this book in exchange for an honest review.
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