Book Review: Widowland
Widowland by C. J. Carey (Sourcebooks Landmark, 2022).
Suppose Hitler had survived World War II. (That’s a nice cheery thought to start the new year with, isn’t it?) More than that, suppose he’d taken control of Great Britain and turned it into another Nazi state.
That’s the premise of C. J. Carey’s Widowland, a dystopian novel set in a very different U.K. from the one we know. Hitler has installed a “Protector” to run the country as a totalitarian nightmare. Following the usual blueprint of such governments, churches and schools are strictly controlled, minorities are targeted, and a terrible fate awaits anyone who steps out of line. Women have been classified into groups, from the elite “Geli” caste all the way down to the “Frieda” class, “widows and spinsters over fifty who had no children and no reproductive purpose and who did not serve a man. There was nothing lower than that.” Each group of women must follow strict rules about where to live, how to dress, and what activities to pursue. And of course, what to read and not read.
In 1953, Rose Ransom, a privileged Geli, works at the Ministry of Culture, rewriting classic novels to strip them of any subversive ideas. (“Jane Eyre … was riddled with assertions of female self-sufficiency. Empowerment, independence, self-awareness. Practically every page required an edit.”) But in her spare time, Rose secretly makes up stories of her own—stories that are full of subversive ideas. Outwardly she strives to be a model denizen of the Anglo-Saxon Alliance, never causing trouble or attracting attention, but something in those novels she deals with every day seems to have rubbed off on her.
“Like an industrial chemist’s, Rose’s job meant coming into contact with substances that the regime had pronounced dangerous,” as Carey puts it. “And she was not immune.” She’s therefore especially susceptible when she’s sent on an undercover mission to “Widowland,” the rundown areas where the Friedas are housed, to investigate which of them have been spray-painting rebellious slogans in public places. Rose finds herself unexpectedly sympathetic to these bold, bookish women. But if she takes their side, even her relationship with Martin Kreuz, the assistant culture minister, won’t be enough to save her.
The plot takes a while to kick into gear, but Carey keeps things interesting with her vivid prose and detailed descriptions of life under the Protector’s regime. She conveys the claustrophobic feeling of living in constant fear of spies and government crackdowns, in a way that will give you the jitters. Occasional flashes of wit lighten the tension (“Rolf Friedel had a face that looked as though God had given up”) but make the rest of the story look even darker in contrast.
The incredibly high stakes make it easy to root for Rose as she seeks to protect her newfound friends and find her own freedom. I’m afraid, though, that she’s one of those protagonists who tend to pull incredibly boneheaded moves. (A word to the wise: Don’t share your dangerous secrets with a six year old. I should probably slap a spoiler warning on that, but honestly, it’s so obvious that you can see it coming miles away.) I guess it makes sense that a member of the highest class of women would be a little too sheltered—relatively sheltered, as none of these women knows what true shelter is—to foresee the consequences of her actions. On the plus side, as the book accelerates towards its hair-raising climax, Rose’s daring becomes an invaluable asset to her new cause.
If you read Widowland, and I recommend that you do, don’t miss the “Conversation with the Author” at the back. Here, Carey recounts the small but devastating incident that inspired her book, a potent reminder that fighting dehumanization isn’t just something that has to happen on a global level—it starts with every one of us.
(Cover image copyright Sourcebooks Landmark)
Book Links:
Widowland on Amazon
Widowland on Bookshop
Other Links:
In December I published a piece at Christ and Pop Culture titled “‘Born to Raise the Sons of Earth’: What Ovid Taught Me About Christ,” which also has something to say on this topic of dehumanization.
On Tuesday, January 17, I’ll be discussing my book Dorothy and Jack at the Society for Women of Letters’ Bluestocking Salon, via Zoom. Go here to find out how to attend!
I endorsed the book Single, Just Because: A Pilgrimage into Holy Aloneness by Bridget Gee. Go here to learn more about the book and to purchase a copy!