Dear Reader,
Word Raccoon and I stayed up late reading Yesteryear. We woke up and insisted on finishing it before breakfast. We had 30 pages left, and we begged for 15 minutes.
We did indeed finish in 15 minutes.
Here’s the thing. We thought the book would be this: a tradwife influencer gets mysteriously swept out of her “real” life and into the actual pioneer life that she’s been cosplaying and gets to see how tough it would’ve been. She returns to her real life, sets the record straight, is grateful for her family, and maybe grows along the way and reimagines her life.
Reader, it was not that.
At all.
I stayed far away from spoilers and lengthy descriptions of the book, so maybe that’s on me. I had few expectations and filled in the rest for myself going in.
I’m just going to say this: I will not be watching the movie. The book was dark and brutal and not at all the humorous-but-ends-sweet novel I thought it would be. I expected a few “This was not in the brochure” moments of gross humor like in City Slickers maybe, if you remember that line.
Humor?
Where?
Nowhere.
No one promised me humor. I just assumed this storyline would trend towards that. Which is 100% on me. However, the author did something much braver and important, discussing who women are “supposed” to be according to society, and the opportunities afforded them (and not), and our fantasies of the “ideal” life versus what it really is.
Although it was a compelling, fast read, I still don’t know what happened at certain parts. I suspect I’m not meant to. (Which makes sense once you know the thing that I now know that I can’t tell you.)
What kept me reading in part was an object the main character picked up and put in her pocket. I kept wanting her to pull it out and examine it, because that might have explained a lot, faster. (If she ever looked at it, I missed it. I was still reading at 1 a.m., so I truly might have missed it…) (This was likely a pacing decision. Understandable. But the suspense!)
It is not the author’s fault that the book is not for me. It’s well written and carefully conceived. Sometimes books aren’t for someone and it is what it is. As well done as it is, it’s just…grim and grim is not where I am right now.
(Also, the acknowledgements are…worth a peek.)
On the way to the gym, I tossed it (and several other) books in the library return bin.
At the gym, I burned away the lingering melancholy on the elliptical machine, introducing WR to endorphins, which she was very grateful for. I’m glad it was an “I can do more” day there.
Now to look for the Fellini documentary on the Florence flood. I know YouTube has pieces of it, but I’m hoping to find the whole thing. That sounds like a perfect Sunday watch.
Feelin’ Fellini,
Drema
dremadrudge.com 