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In her stunning novel, Hall imagines a new dystopia set in the not-too-distant future. England is in a state of environmental crisis and economic collapse. There has been a census, and all citizens have been herded into urban centers. Reproduction has become a lottery, with contraceptive coils fitted to every female of childbearing age. A girl who will become known only as Sister escapes the confines of her repressive marriage to find an isolated group of women living as un-officials in Carhullan, a remote northern farm, where she must find out whether she has it in herself to become a rebel fighter. Provocative and timely, Daughters of the North poses questions about the lengths women will go to resist their oppressors, and under what circumstances might an ordinary person become a terrorist.… (more)
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What I guess I'm saying is, the book lacks context. A similar work, World Made by Hand, lacks information but doesn't seem as enclosed as this one; within its covers, its lack of knowledge about the rest of the world makes sense. In Daughters of the North, while there is an information blackout, there also seems to be a lack of curiosity about what's going on in the larger world. The book is very self-contained, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing. Perhaps that sense of enclosure is meant to contribute to the confessional format of the book, which didn't work well for me.
One might say I'm hard to please, but with collapse-of-civilization novels running a dime a dozen these days, I can afford to be picky.
The idea isn't a terribly original one, but that doesn't matter as much as the execution, which was just a bit lacking. Hall tends to repeat herself, to over-explain at some parts and to strain our suspension of disbelief at others. This reader was left not quite believing the story. The cover states that this novel echoes The Handmaid's Tale and Children of Men, but Daughters of the North comes off as a pale imitation of its forebears.
It's the plot - and the characters' motivations - where it falls flat. Instead of being a story about 'something', it reads like a
The activities of the people in power are presented like they are horrendous... but if you skip the feminist hysteria behind it, it was a logical progression of behavior when society collapses - at least the women weren't kept for breeding or community sexual relief purposes. I guess I might be desensitized due to the number of post-apocalyptic books I've read, but this one was not nearly as dire as the author wants us to think it is. In fact, I think in a post-apocalypse the fact that you have to eat tin meat from the U.S. or have sex with your husband is probably the least of your worries.
Overall, I'm glad it's now off my to-read list. But I don't think I'll be picking up any feminist 101 novels any time soon.
Her initial violent treatment at the compound, known as Carhullan, makes her wonder if she’s done the right thing after all. However, once the women there trust her, she is set free and cared for until she regains her strength. Her name is taken from her and she is given the new name of “Sister” as she is assimilated, acculturated, and indoctrinated into Carhullan’s inner ranks by the charismatic and volatile leader of the women, Jackie Nixon. Finally, Sister has found the warm and supportive community she dreamed about during her joyless life under the Authority’s thumb in Rith.
However, the outside world must intrude, as it always does. Jackie intercepts radio transmissions and knows that the Authority is planning to raid and assimilate all those rogue communities like their own, and she decides to strike first and conquer Rith in an attempt to inspire a nation-wide revolt.
The ending is a bit too abrupt and the philosophy and poltical messages are s bit heavy-handed at times, but this novel invites favorable comparisons to Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale.” A great choice for those who like their political messages unambiguous, their women tough, and their dystopias bleak indeed.
I was interested all the way through.
If you like feminist dystopian fiction (and who doesn't?), you might have a look.
I find it hard to extrapolate today's Britain into the society Hall sees in 30 years' time. Peak oil and environmental crisis or not, something seriously jars about
I can't quite follow the main character's motivation to escape the struggling and oppressive society she lives in. There are plenty of reasons to not want to be part of that society before we get to the reproductive freedom issues that seem to push her. (Yes, I know, I'm a bad feminist, no biscuit.) I completely failed to connect emotionally with any of the characters. Maybe if Hall had spent less than 50 pages out of 200-page novel on the Cumbrian landscape and somewhat more on her characters, that would have helped.
I also fail to find most of the aspects of the novel which are clearly meant to shock (and, judging by the blurbs on the back cover clearly have shocked the - dare I hazard a guess? male? - reviewers) in any way shocking. Can women fight? Yes, of course we can. Can they be aggressive? Hell, yeah. Can they, using the same brainwashing tactics we use on male soldiers, be turned into an army. Gosh, it's almost like it's supposed to be a revelation that women are human, too!
The thing that I find most uncomfortable (and I'll probably get in trouble with some second-gen feminists over this) is that this book is clearly rooted in 1970s radical feminism, and that in 2008 it was judged worthy of a Tiptree, when Y The Last Man was not.
The characters are tough but not unrealistically so; there are moments of tenderness or togetherness (in particular, the scene where the protagonist is accepted into the community brought an actual
In a Britain sometime in the future, ravaged by environmental disaster and war, much of the country is underwater and life for the survivors is harsh. The
In a remote area of Cumbria, a group of woman live on a fortified communal farm outside the contol of the Authority and "Sister" is determined to escape her harsh life and join them. This is her story
James Tiptee, jr., is a story in herself. Frustrated by her limited opportunities for expressing her creativity, Alice
In The Starry Rift Tiptree brings us three adventure stories of the human exploration of the Rift, a starless region of our galaxy beyond which lay non-human civilizations. The first story is about a 15 year-old girl whose wanderlust leads her to a friendship with an alien and a dilemma they must face together. The second is a tale of a free-spirited man who roams space assisting those in trouble or salvaging their ruins. His work brings him face to face with his past and the need to choose between love and freedom. The last story is that of a clash of cultures, two super powers engaging across the rift zone. We watch from both sides as events escalate toward war and individuals struggle to avoid that dire outcome. The stories are framed with encounters in a library, where an amphibious librarian assists two students, also alien to human eyes, in their exploration of human history.
The stories are compelling, mixing sheer adventure with deeper moral questions. The gadgetry of classic science fiction is much in evidence. I didn’t understand, or even try to understand, much of the technical talk, but its presence helped create the right mood. And yes, her female characters are particularly well drawn.
GENDER
I pick up this book planning to read it for the Gender in Fantasy and Science Fiction Challenge, which failed to materialize. None the less, I read it looking for how Tiptree treated issues of gender.
Sometimes typical twentieth-century gender roles seem to be in place, but here and there are some sharp suggestions of alternatives. The fact that the young adventurer in the first story is a girl rather than the more typical boy is one. In addition, women hold significant leadership positions in the hierarchy of human space administration, not something that would have been possible when the story was written. An example is the women executive in the last story.
Even more striking is the alien civilization where three genders rather than two are required for reproduction. Men and women mate and create a being, carried by the male which in turns becomes a nurse and contributor to the couple’s eventual offspring, carried to term by the female. The man and woman of this culture seem less bound by gender definitions than humans generally are. Although the extra being was by definition neither male nor female, I found it hard not to see it as a nurturing and sacrificial female nanny. Interestingly this creature is the one that saves the lives of all the aliens on the ship before dying itself.
This book has a lot of good points: the description of the landscape and of the the workings of the farm are both excellent. But the ending, which should have been dramatic, is botched, so rushed that most of the impact of the climax is lost.
This book has been compared with "The Handmaid's Tale", but I think a much closer comparison is with Suzy McKee Charnas's superb "Holdfast Chronicles" series - "Walk to the End of the World" and its sequels. Unfortunately, despite its promising start, "The Carhullan Army" is nowhere near as good.
It started off well, and the concept of the dystopian society she creates is intriguing and a bit frightening. Some of the
The ending was pretty anti-climactic, and felt like a cop-out - you'll see what I mean when you get there. Overall it wasn't very powerful, which is something I would expect from a dystopian novel like this. I anticipated something really thought-provoking that would have me lying awake the next three nights thinking about it, but this one just didn't do it. It starts off strong, but loses is punch along the way.
And here is where many reviewers seem to be torn. The first two-thirds of the book clearly revolve more around feminist theory: the women are portrayed as being more comfortable with themselves, eager to work and speak up and be heard; Hall specifically condemns those who think "cattiness" is somehow innate to feminine nature and that women have to have a masculine influence around or somehow we'll wither and die. The book also dips more into second wave feminism at this point, as it celebrates lesbian relationships and criticizes the handful of men who live on a neighboring farm.
The final third, however, becomes much more bloody and real.
Hall writes Jackie Nixon convincingly. Too often, leaders are portrayed as being perfect, which feels fake, but Nixon is clearly a flawed character. She is stubborn, willful, and not a little bloodthirsty; as is so often the case, however, these eccentricities do not detract from her charisma, but give it a sense of realism. Often the most beloved leaders, the ones most celebrated, are just a little off.
Nixon hears news that the Authority is planning on invading the farm and rousting its inhabitants, forcing them to live under the same oppressive rule they fled from, and here Hall forces the reader to make a choice: do we believe Nixon? The reader's opinion influences how they feel about the rest of the book. Other women back Nixon's story up, but they are all part of her elite group, and it is continually shown that she is somewhat revered, a leader of women, someone who makes them feel like more than they are, that they are part of something. The unnamed protagonist, who has idolized Nixon since she was a little girl, feels the same way. Nixon proposes striking first, in a moving speech about the responsibilities of liberty. Others feel that they should continue as they have been and hope they are left alone. Again, who you agree with hinges more than a little on whether you believe Nixon is telling the truth, and for every clue that she is (concurring reports), there is also evidence that she may not (several times her bloodthirsty and restless nature is mentioned, as well as implications she may not be entirely stable).
The protagonist, known only as Sister, joins in Nixon's cause, and we see that these are the true Daughters of the North, not the commune itself. These daughters seem wild, unearthly, sprung up from the ground itself instead of born from fathers and mothers. They are hard, ruthless, and single-minded.
The central question is whether or not the cause is just, not the leader. Nixon is changeable and often cruel: she conducts midnight raids on the women, tortures them in a tiny chamber, and even kills two who try to escape. One woman protests that Sister has been groomed since she arrived for this purpose and Nixon is manipulating them - which may very well be true. Early on in the book, and quite tellingly, Sister relays a conversation she had with her father where he says, "It doesn't do to rely on those in charge completely." Just because Jackie's system is not as overtly oppressive as the Authority does not mean that she is not in charge. Nixon is portrayed as the perfect rebellion leader: she gives moving speeches about liberty, she reads profusely and has experience, she exudes a charisma which bespells those who follow her quite willingly. But whether or not she is on the right side of it is quite a different matter.
The book is compelling, not shying away from complexities or ambiguities - no one is completely in the right. The Authority is abusing human rights, Nixon is clearly spoiling for a war. Are they both meant to be wrong? Is there a point when we have to accept that nonviolent resistance is not feasible in every conflict?
Whether or not you agree with the methods used, or even some of the more radical aspects of the feminist theory lying underneath, Hall has beautiful prose that somehow ties beautiful descriptions with thematic intensity. One of the most gorgeous examples of this is when Sister is training. She comments: "My whole life I had loved the upland terrain, deriving simple pleasure from it as a child - the views, the changing colours of the slopes, the brackish rivers - and though for years I had seen it at only a distance, I had often thought of the landscape as I stood beside the conveyor at the factory; it was a place of beauty and escape. Now I stumbled across its gills and over its marshland, bending to meet the wind when it roared against me, and dragging myself up by the scars by handfuls of heather and thorn bushes, by any firm hold. And still, I could not say it wasn't beautiful. Despite its austerity, its vast and cowing expanse, and the agony of its traverse, it seemed more beautiful than ever."
Here, again, we see that these women are from the Earth itself, from the North that gave them birth.
If you are at all interested in feminism, dystopian worlds, complex and subtle stories of power, this is a wonderful book to read.
She was right! I was drawn in right from the beginning, to the point that some of Sister's anger and frustration spilled over into my (male-filled) life when I was forced to put the book down for a while. Sunday I plowed through the rest of the book despite Andrew being gone and my needing to watch Jefferson all day.
In this near-future dystopian vision, global warming has raised coastlines and temperatures, the economy has crashed, people have been herded into urban centers, and England is engaged in some unnamed war with far flung enemies. All women are fitted with contraceptive "regulators," subject to surprise inspection, and reproduction is by lottery. One woman finally has enough, so she flees her "official" existence in search of a women's community high in the mountains that she's been fascinated with since childhood, but has little idea if it still exists....
In many ways this book is the opposite of Door Into Ocean's Sharer world -- with incidents of torture, military training, and the final violent uprising, but in both books the women are wiry, strong, self-sufficient, living at harmony with their ecosystem, and in control. Could the women of Carhullan have staged a successful non-violent campaign of resistance? It's hard to say.
Both worlds have strong representations of women, and also people of color (perhaps Daughters more pointedly in the case of the latter.) Daughters also speaks strongly to the kind of power and self-control so alluring in glossy ads for the military. Of course, the Sharers also had that strength, though they went about completely different means to achieve it.
In the end, it is perhaps startling how much the two groups of women have in common.
Highly recommended.