The best books on women a notch above the rest

This is one of the very few novels that managed to conquer me in every aspect—the plot, the characters, the settings, and the writing. All credits go to the author, of course. But—as I now see her as a living person rather than a fictional character—I think I owe a special tribute to Big Ammachi, the female protagonist of this family saga.

She grabs the scene on page one, and although there comes a moment when she leaves (the story spans some eighty years), her profound sense of humanity keeps lingering throughout the book. More than that—she continues to linger now, even two months after I finished reading. And I suspect she will stay with me forever.

I began this book aware that it was inspired by one of the most striking scandals ever (no need to mention which). So, I can’t say that the pivotal twist came as a surprise. Quite the opposite—it felt a bit like starting an Agatha Christie thriller knowing that the butler did it.

However, I was completely captivated by the character of Vincent (who is, I can safely reveal, a woman) and the way the story is intricately crafted around her. I enjoyed every line of this tale, in which I found a brilliant example of how a plot can skillfully put the events at the service of the characters, allowing their psychological traits to take center stage.

I’m one of those readers who sometimes read a book because they have to. I started this book with the idea that I couldn’t possibly miss Stephen King’s debut novel. On paper, it stood at the antipodes of my liking— a horror story, but also a mystery and a thriller, set in a high school and so drenched in blood you might fear staining your finger at each turning page. Yet, I was so absorbed by Carrie’s tormented personality that I forgot all the above and went all the way down to the end in a single breath.

This book confirmed one of my firmest tenets—if you come across a book that is not your genre and love it, it means that you indeed loved it. A lot. 

Few things put me off more in a novel than a protagonist I can’t relate to. With this book, though, it’s precisely the nuance of the unreliability of Charity—the female main character—that conquered me. Her bossy yet loving attitude toward her husband, children, and friends worked like a magnet. I was fascinated by her continuous shifts to and fro the ideal woman and the nightmare of a wife.

In this novel, I admired Stegner’s ability to give depth to his characters—Charity, in particular. Under different circumstances (a different story or writing style), her slap-me-across-the-face attitude might have made me throw the book across the room. Instead, it firmly sits on my bookshelf, ready to be read again in the coming future.

Although I have read a number of novels focused on friendship, this one stands out with particular vigor. It started the way I expected: two friends since childhood. The more I advanced into the reading, though, the more I perceived the two main characters—Elena and Lila—as the same person:  a sort of super-protagonist that incorporates not only the psychological traits of the two but their lives as well.

If it’s true that life is often a fight between who we are and who we would like to be, then this novel portrays that conflict masterfully. What I saw in this story, more than the recount of a friendship, is the power that lies hidden within each of us. Whether we annihilate it or let it bloom depends on the choices we make in our lives.