Reviews and Comments

The absolute worst part of this specific version of this specific novel is Chuck Palahniuk's introduction. I don't know why you'd ask him, of all people, to write a 'feminist intro' (or maybe he did that of his own accord, who knows)... But he failed miserably and engaged in misogynistic insult throwing while failing to understanding how structures of patriarchy, classism, and white supremacy intersect. (And he couldn't even recognise varying elements of queerphobia that were at play, either.)

Which is confusing considering Levin does a decent job at highlighting the horror of the 'feminist backlash'. Because it's much easier to see the backlash coming from the people in the middle- and upper- classes, this book is positioned well. It's still interesting to see that at least two of the women feel safe and secure with their "supportive" husbands, even though they have been steadily walking towards a tighter patriarchal structure right under their noses.

As long as you're behaving "correctly," according to them, they're happy to let you have the world you think you live in.

So much of this resonates strongly because we still see it, across a range of political views. Much like the characters in the book, many people of marginalised genders are still gaslit about their experiences and feelings and thoughts on the regular. Even within relationships with "radical" cishet men who "are feminist," many of us still struggle to have them actually listen to and care about our concerns only for them to tell us that they're "one of the nice ones."

Overwhelmingly, this book is able to portray a lot of the issues that women (and, if we're honest, people of all marginalised genders) face. Ironically, even the concerns of Chuck Palahniuk's introduction are addressed in the form of the woman who is a psychiatrist that the protagonist sees at her husband's behest; she tells her that there's nothing inherently wrong with Stepford, that the protagonist is overreacting to the fear and frustration of moving to the suburbs from the city... She doesn't listen to the concerns and only tries to say that they are solvable via her, that she has the answers. She's unknowingly working towards supporting patriarchal values and notions simply by denying the protagonist's feelings and explaining them away.

There are some undercooked concepts and discussions (like race and class), I think. But overwhelmingly, this just reminded me of the recent trend of trad wives. I think we've socially replaced the concept of the 'Stepford wife' with the concept of the trad wife.

Reading Chuck Palahniuk's introduction... and it feels off because it doesn't seem to recognise an accurate directionality of oppression.

In the end of it he says:

Nevertheless, it's odd how the bookshelves are filling with pretty dolls. Those glazed pretty dolls wearing their stylish designer outfits—Prada and Chanel and Dolce—swilling their martinis and flirting, flirting, flirting in their supreme effort to catch a rich husband. Always a rich husband. Instead of political rights, they're fighting for Jimmie Choos. In lieu of protest, they express themselves through shopping. And men, they're no longer the oppressors—these days other women are, older women. In The Nanny Diaries and The Devil Wears Prada and Confessions of a Shopaholic, in this new generation of 'chick lit' novels, men are once more the goal. It's successful women who torment our pretty, painted narrators. Brassieres are back, as are girdles, eyelash curlers, perfumed and meticulously shaved underarms. The speculum and the cervix are forgotten. This it seems is progress: women may now choose to be pretty, stylishly dressed, and vapid. This is no longer the shrill, politically charged climate of 1972; if it's a choice freely made, then it's... okay.

and then:

Now everyplace is Stepford, but it's okay. It's fine. This is what the modern, politically aware, fully awake, enlightened, assertive women really, really really wants: a manicure.

... And the problem with this is that it's recognising symptoms as opposed to causes. It's not looking at capitalism and overconsumption, it's not looking at the structure of patriarchy, it's not looking at white supremacy, it's not looking at classism. It's missing everything for, like, some strange misogynist hits at women and their apparently willful desire to give up political rights... But it's the whole problem to miss these things.

There's another line that says: "Women are the ultimate threat to women." And while this is true in some contexts (the glass ceiling, reinforcing misogyny, engaging in transmisogyny and transphobia), it's not... the full reality. It's flippant.

I want to first say that I wanted to like this book, especially because it's such a bizarre mystery story. I also had a bit of nostalgia for Who Framed Roger Rabbit and knew that it was largely inspired by this book, and I was fully aware that the book and the movie shared little in common when I started reading.

I don't mind that. I love when people take creative liberties and create something wildly different from the inspiration a piece of media gives them, so my issue isn't even that I wanted it to be the same.

My issue is that it really does have some great potential, and you can see how someone was able to create the movie from this book (and holy shit were we lucky that the movie was pushed in the direction it went because this Eddie Valiant is so bloody frustrating, while Bob Hoskins' rendition of the character is just so well done and likable despite his somewhat grumpy nature). There are a lot of cool elements of the plot that are actually an interesting story, and the solution to the mystery is both very easy to piece together but still hidden enough for it to not feel either too simple or too obtuse; it's definitely within the realm of possibility.

But I hated so much of the presentation, especially because it kept hitting some really messy messaging. Toons seemed to take the place of any person who was either non-white or poor and rural (or both). There were bouts of misogyny related to the only two women in the whole book (Jessica Rabbit and her previous job related to sex work, especially), and there was a hit of casual fatphobia for a Persian belly dancer who Eddie ran away from because of the "size of her belly."

You really can see where a lot of the inspiration comes from. Like, I suspect the aforementioned belly dancer was morphed into the Hyacinth Hippo (from Fantasia) that appears in the movie instead. But you can certainly see how they recognised what would make a better story with a few of the same characters (Eddie Valiant, Roger Rabbit, Jessica Rabbit, and Baby Herman) and a change in setting (from the 1980s to the 1940s). They also found a much better use for the humanoid Toon gimmick (in Christopher Lloyd's portrayal of Judge Doom) than was done in the book, though that gimmick is quite fun in both.

But I do wish that this guy had thought more about what he wrote because the story is pretty good, but the way he handled so many topics is just... fucking obnoxious and it really feels like the book is the author's tone because of how much book-Eddie feels like such a self-insert for him (which is not helped by the fact that Gary's in both the front cover art and the back cover art). Like goddamnit, I really did like that the ending was... not what most people would want? But it still felt right.

You could really see the interesting bits of the story! Genuinely. But its pitfalls are really obvious, too.

(Also, instead of having Benny-the-Cab as a Volkswagen Beetle, the Bennie in the book is a beetle who collects literal junk. Both are okay, but it's just very funny to me.)

Overwhelmingly, I adore this story. It's a book that I've often found interesting for how commonly it's recommended in schools and usually used within the curriculum of English classes, particularly as the core elements of the text should provide ample material for someone to start questioning everything that's happening.

It should provide kids with a moment to go "Wait, there are juvenile detention centers? Prisons for children?" But then I remember the ways in which the book is usually taught, and you find a bunch of teachers who seem to think that sometimes kids do need them, and they teach the book in a way that still reflects a common belief: If you're guilty of something, you should do the time. If you're not guilty, it's bad. (And if it's taught outside the US, it puts special attention on the fact that this is what Americans do... when people outside the US also do shit like that, too. None of us are guiltless here.)

And I really like that it's one of the few books (especially that is usually accessible to kids) that earnestly engages with homelessness without demonising homeless people or any of the actions that they may take to survive in this bullshit world. It's truly empathetic, which is something so frustratingly uncommon. (Not to mention, it's one of the few books that actually talks about it at all, as if it's something entirely foreign to the world we live in. Which... it should be, but it's not.)

But I always hate the ending. I hate that the moral of the story is covered up by sudden wealth and riches, I hate that there's nothing showing a truly collective society or Stanley's family using that wealth (as annoying as that is) to help other people who are homeless or incarcerated... I hate that it's just so "If you do good, you will be rich!" when that lesson... Is just disappointingly wrong on so many levels.

Also, I'm not a huge fan of the whole thing about Madame Zeroni being a Rromani woman (presumably, since that is the most common demographic in Latvia) who curses a whole family for a teenage boy momentarily forgetting and then being unable to fulfill his promise. While I like the idea of the 'curse', I feel like there could either be some discussion to disrupt this tropey view of the Rromani (e.g., the curse is more related to the responsibility of both Elya Yelnats and the many men named Stanley Yelnats and they wrongly blame it on her)... Or something else entirely (something in a similar but opposite vein as Louise Walker's family just hunting down a treasure and never finding it).

Overwhelmingly, I adore this story. It's a book that I've often found interesting for how commonly its recommended in schools and usually used within the curriculum of English classes, particularly as the core elements of the text should provide ample material for someone to start questioning everything that's happening.

It should provide kids with a moment to go "Wait, there are juvenile detention centers? Prisons for children?" But then I remember the ways in which the book is usually taught, and you find a bunch of teachers who seem to think that sometimes kids do need them, and they teach the book in a way that still reflects a common belief: If you're guilty of something, you should do the time. If you're not guilty, it's bad.

And I really like that it's one of the few books (especially that is usually accessible to kids) that earnestly engages with homelessness without demonising homeless people or any of the actions that they may take to survive in this bullshit world. It's truly empathetic, which is something so frustratingly uncommon. (Not to mention, it's one of the few books that actually talks about it at all, as if it's something entirely foreign to the world we live in. Which... it should be, but it's not.)

But I always hate the ending. I hate that the moral of the story is covered up by sudden wealth and riches, I hate that there's nothing showing a truly collective society or Stanley's family using that wealth (as annoying as that is) to help other people who are homeless or incarcerated... I hate that it's just so "If you do good, you will be rich!" when that lesson... Is just disappointingly wrong on so many levels.