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A review by chrissie_whitley
The Wife by Meg Wolitzer
5.0
Thoughtful, intriguing, and engaging from beginning to end, Wolitzer's The Wife left me with a slight book hangover and a desire to read all of her other works.
Firstly, imagine my teeny surprise when, after beginning this book, I glanced at Wolitzer’s author page here on Goodreads and saw that she was the author of a book I read way back in elementary school…[b:The Dream Book|195593|The Dream Book|Meg Wolitzer|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1302712578s/195593.jpg|315832]. Though it was from somewhere around my third grade year, I can still vividly remember loving the main character, her story, and her best friend, who went by the name "Danger."
Secondly, I’m surprised that Meg Wolitzer is as young as she is…just shy of my own parents’ ages. Given the intensity and depth in which she explores 1950’s New York and the limitations of lady writers at that time (both self-imposed and impressed by society), I would have thought that she'd have lived through more of it than a brief glimpse during her first year of life.
Wolitzer’s mother, as it turns out, seems to be playing into the mix—potentially. [a:Hilma Wolitzer|24893|Hilma Wolitzer|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1367859861p2/24893.jpg] (née Liebman) was born in 1930, became a novelist in her forties, and continues to write—her most recent book is from 2012, [b:An Available Man|11575602|An Available Man|Hilma Wolitzer|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1333577689s/11575602.jpg|16516629]. So, she grew up during the very era Meg writes about here. Hilma proclaims herself to have been, "a really late bloomer,"—publishing her first short story, [b:Today, a Woman Went Mad in the Supermarket|33848331|Today, a Woman Went Mad in the Supermarket|Hilma Wolitzer|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1484287389s/33848331.jpg|54789148] in 1966, and her first novel, [b:Ending|932272|Ending|Hilma Wolitzer|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1512386235s/932272.jpg|917260], in 1974. So, while I don't doubt she heavily influenced this book, I don't know that she would be Meg's creation of Joan Castleman. Perhaps Hilma makes brief appearances as multiple characters here: Elaine Mozell, a novelist who discourages Joan from trying to make it along with the men in the field of writing; Lee, a serious and clever journalist Joan watches but never really meets during a trip with Joe to Vietnam during the war; and other lady writers and writers' wives who each represent something to Joan. Reflecting something back to Joan about herself.
It’d be easy to point out that this is a character-driven novel, because it is purely so. Introspective comes to mind but the word my brain chooses is more along the lines of deconstructive. This is the peeling of the onion. It is all reveal. While the reveal in question was fairly easy to surmise, I waited (mostly) patiently and contentedly for the curtain to be drawn back. After all, while the entire book is the reveal, heading towards that inevitable conclusion, the reason for the book is not just a simple ta-da at the end.
Wolitzer mentions again and again throughout the book, from Joan’s mind, the idea of writing being either or mostly masculine or feminine. Between the various female authors she mentions and the endless pool of male authors she knows are simply out there, Joan sees that the world dismisses or diminishes what she thinks is distinctly feminine writing. Masculine writing wins and sells and is rewarded. Right or wrong or too simplified, Joan absorbs this as fact and holds it inside her like a mission statement working backwards. This is why she doesn't write. This is why she won't be accepted. This is why she could never make it among the men who lead and engulf the field of authorship.
Such as it is, this is a novel centering around feminism, and yet it cannot be simplified into being just that despite the fact that it is a small, single-person viewpoint. If the label on the file cabinet drawer says “Feminism,” then the story in this novel is an individual folder. This is merely an example of the importance of equality. The Wife takes the prism and flips it around, looking at all the various facets: how men see women, how women see men, how women see themselves through men’s eyes, how women see women, and last but not least, how women see themselves. Equality is a hidden bubblegum center, simultaneously stretchy and stiff, beneath the cracked layers of a candy lollipop.
Mainly, Wolitzer wants you to understand this from the opening scene, from the title, from the get go: Joan is the wife until the last word on the final page; she is the whole book. In its entirety, The Wife is simply brilliant storytelling.
Firstly, imagine my teeny surprise when, after beginning this book, I glanced at Wolitzer’s author page here on Goodreads and saw that she was the author of a book I read way back in elementary school…[b:The Dream Book|195593|The Dream Book|Meg Wolitzer|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1302712578s/195593.jpg|315832]. Though it was from somewhere around my third grade year, I can still vividly remember loving the main character, her story, and her best friend, who went by the name "Danger."
Secondly, I’m surprised that Meg Wolitzer is as young as she is…just shy of my own parents’ ages. Given the intensity and depth in which she explores 1950’s New York and the limitations of lady writers at that time (both self-imposed and impressed by society), I would have thought that she'd have lived through more of it than a brief glimpse during her first year of life.
Wolitzer’s mother, as it turns out, seems to be playing into the mix—potentially. [a:Hilma Wolitzer|24893|Hilma Wolitzer|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1367859861p2/24893.jpg] (née Liebman) was born in 1930, became a novelist in her forties, and continues to write—her most recent book is from 2012, [b:An Available Man|11575602|An Available Man|Hilma Wolitzer|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1333577689s/11575602.jpg|16516629]. So, she grew up during the very era Meg writes about here. Hilma proclaims herself to have been, "a really late bloomer,"—publishing her first short story, [b:Today, a Woman Went Mad in the Supermarket|33848331|Today, a Woman Went Mad in the Supermarket|Hilma Wolitzer|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1484287389s/33848331.jpg|54789148] in 1966, and her first novel, [b:Ending|932272|Ending|Hilma Wolitzer|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1512386235s/932272.jpg|917260], in 1974. So, while I don't doubt she heavily influenced this book, I don't know that she would be Meg's creation of Joan Castleman. Perhaps Hilma makes brief appearances as multiple characters here: Elaine Mozell, a novelist who discourages Joan from trying to make it along with the men in the field of writing; Lee, a serious and clever journalist Joan watches but never really meets during a trip with Joe to Vietnam during the war; and other lady writers and writers' wives who each represent something to Joan. Reflecting something back to Joan about herself.
It’d be easy to point out that this is a character-driven novel, because it is purely so. Introspective comes to mind but the word my brain chooses is more along the lines of deconstructive. This is the peeling of the onion. It is all reveal. While the reveal in question was fairly easy to surmise, I waited (mostly) patiently and contentedly for the curtain to be drawn back. After all, while the entire book is the reveal, heading towards that inevitable conclusion, the reason for the book is not just a simple ta-da at the end.
Wolitzer mentions again and again throughout the book, from Joan’s mind, the idea of writing being either or mostly masculine or feminine. Between the various female authors she mentions and the endless pool of male authors she knows are simply out there, Joan sees that the world dismisses or diminishes what she thinks is distinctly feminine writing. Masculine writing wins and sells and is rewarded. Right or wrong or too simplified, Joan absorbs this as fact and holds it inside her like a mission statement working backwards. This is why she doesn't write. This is why she won't be accepted. This is why she could never make it among the men who lead and engulf the field of authorship.
Such as it is, this is a novel centering around feminism, and yet it cannot be simplified into being just that despite the fact that it is a small, single-person viewpoint. If the label on the file cabinet drawer says “Feminism,” then the story in this novel is an individual folder. This is merely an example of the importance of equality. The Wife takes the prism and flips it around, looking at all the various facets: how men see women, how women see men, how women see themselves through men’s eyes, how women see women, and last but not least, how women see themselves. Equality is a hidden bubblegum center, simultaneously stretchy and stiff, beneath the cracked layers of a candy lollipop.
Mainly, Wolitzer wants you to understand this from the opening scene, from the title, from the get go: Joan is the wife until the last word on the final page; she is the whole book. In its entirety, The Wife is simply brilliant storytelling.