Anna Noyes

This fragmentary novel is not my cup of tea.

The book, set on Sweden’s Berggrund Island, focuses on two sisters, Ulrika and Beata, who live with their widowed father, Pastor Silas. The girls are fascinated with the island’s lore and dark history which includes the killing of 27 of the 32 women living on the island; in 1675, 150 years earlier, these women were accused of witchcraft and consorting with Satan on the neighbouring mist-shrouded island known as Blue Maiden. The sisters also want to learn about their mother, but Silas refuses to speak of her. Ulrika, the eldest, does the majority of the work around the house which includes looking after her sister who starts experiencing unsettling visions when she enters adolescence. The return of August Holmberg to Berggrund changes the lives of the sisters and leads to the revelation of dark family secrets.

Ulrika and Beata are social outcasts. On their father’s side they are descended from a woman who was identified as a witch but allowed to live because she was pregnant. It seems as if that stigma has followed them over the generations. Their mother was an outsider, not from the island, so “they share an aura of otherness” for this reason as well. They both yearn for love and attention which is not given to them by their emotionally remote father who is neglectful and ineffectual as a parent.

It is the theme of sisterhood that stands out for me. Ulrika and Beata give each other the love otherwise missing from their lives, but there are jealousies and tensions as one would expect between siblings. Ulrika sometimes wants to be alone, taking long walks and leaving Bea behind. Bea, once punished along with her sister, feels she has been treated unjustly and lashes out by opening jars and dumping out their contents leaving Ulrika to cry, “’That pantry gets us through winter . . . Do you ever think how much work you make for me?’” Bea responds with, “’What else would you do?’” When Ulrika gets attention, Bea thinks should be hers, Bea says, “’Can’t I have one scrap? . . . Just one, to myself?’” She is convinced “Only when Ulrika dies will Bea live individuated and capable.” But she also realizes “Ulrika is her family, the primacy of that earliest bond forever fated to win out.”

The novel’s writing style is a challenge. The narrative jumps from one scene to another seemingly without connection so there is a disjointed feel to the book. Some scenes are noteworthy for their vagueness so it’s difficult to determine what is happening. Clarity is not prioritized because much is left unsaid, but I would have liked some exposition linking events or explaining their significance. The sense of confusion is not cleared with the ending which is ambiguous and unsatisfying; the book almost feels abandoned rather than concluded.

At the end I found myself wondering what it all means. What message was I supposed to take away? What is the significance of so many characters, both male and female, having visions? Are visions what come “from paying too close attention to the world”? Beata lives in fear of a witch coming to get her but the ending seems to suggest she discovers that she is one, so is the message that all women are witches or at least perceived to be to some extent? Are we to understand that women like Beata are suffering from generational trauma because of what happened to the women on the island earlier? The book is described as “A Nordic Gothic laced with the horrors of life in a patriarchy both hostile to and reliant on its women” and a Kirkus Review describes the book as being “a twisting narrative of the horrors of patriarchal subordination.” I’m not convinced but admit to being at a loss to explain the purpose of the book.

This book may appeal to others – and there is some appeal in its poetic diction – but it doesn’t work for me.

Note: I received an eARC of this book from the publisher via NetGalley

Please check out my reader's blog (https://schatjesshelves.blogspot.com) for thousands of reviews.… (más)

Goodnight, Beautiful Women is a debut collection of eleven interconnected short narratives all revolving around young girls and burgeoning women in coastal Maine. I would not call this a collection of short stories; rather, they are brief scenes that give an overall sense of the confusion of desires of young women on the verge of understanding the motives of men.

The writing in this collection is intense. Noyes' imagery in these short narratives creates piercing anticipation. The scenes she creates are gripping from the outset, with familiar but haunting characters. I loved the fullness of the stories she wove. One of my favorites, "Drawing Blood", was reminiscent of Sarah Waters' historical fiction. The stories are all about relationships, between husbands and wives, or between mothers and daughters, or first loves. The stories are dark, melancholy, and without redemption, usually leaving the main character hopeless.

The thing about literary short stories, however, is that often they're just not stories. The stories in Goodnight, Beautiful Women were scenes, or paintings, or like the beginning-middle chapters of a powerful novel. These stories present an overall mysterious feeling of depression, but they weren't stories as I'm used to stories. I'm expecting a beginning/middle/end story arc, an enticing story with a satisfying denouement, and that is not what you get here. With each of these stories Noyes easily grabbed my heart with riveting beginnings and then left me, wilted and abandoned, wondering what happened.

Noyes definitely has the skill and literary chutzpah to pull off a great collection here, but if you're like me and like resolution, you may be disappointed. I'm looking forward to her next work. Many thanks to Netgalley, Grove Atlantic, and Anna Noyes for the advance copy.… (más)