If you’ve got a thing about tracking devices (hi Tracy!) there’s a feminist distopian novel you might want to read. Or listen to. I went for the audio book. Since reading it I’ve been unable to look at the slim attractive devices on friends’ wrists quite the same way.
I picked it up afer reading this artice in the New York Times, How Feminist Dystopian Fiction Is Channeling Women’s Anger and Anxiety.
From the article, “In Christina Dalcher’s recent debut novel, “Vox,” an ultraconservative political party gains control of Congress and the White House, and enacts policies that force women to become submissive homemakers. Girls are no longer taught how to read or write; women are forbidden to work or hold political office, or even express themselves: They are forced into near silence after the government requires all women to wear bracelets that deliver a shock if they exceed an allotted daily word count.”
Instead of steps the tracker counts words. 100 a day are permitted. It’s chilling.
Is it a good book? It’s a good audio book. I’m never sure how well that translates that plain words. But you might feel a bit differently snapping a tracker on your wrist after reading it.
Have you read it? What do you think?
3 thoughts on “Trackers, Vox, and chilling feminist fiction”
I’ve been wanting to read this ever since I heard a review of it on the radio. Maybe I’ll download the audio and take it with me to China. Thanks for the recommendation.
I haven’t heard of it, and I’m certainly not going to read it. I despise dystopian fiction with the fire of a thousand suns, and if I had the power I’d route all of it directly to the shredder. One of the best things about adulthood is that no one is ever going to force me to read that crap again. 1984 in middle school, Fahrenheit 451 (even though I liked Ray Bradbury’s writing) and Lord of the Flies in high school–I still resent having to spend time with those titles when we could have been reading more Shakespeare, or even more Dickens. We never touched on Trollope, or Austen, or Homer in translation. I can hear it now: “but teenagers LIKE dystopian fiction.” Well, English departments everywhere should take note of the fact that many do not.
And when I’m in the mood for chills (as today is Hallowe’en), I reach for M.R.James, J.S. LeFanu, or Kipling.
To each their own!
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