THE FLAT WOMAN

In Saunders’ speculative novel, a girl with unusual abilities comes of age in a misogynist society after her mother is jailed for “seagull terrorism.”

The story opens with the young, unnamed protagonist suffering from a spontaneous skin rash sprouting bird feathers; such strange physical transformations, which she calls “leaky boundaries,” trouble her throughout her life. At one point, she feels goldfish suddenly appear in her stomach; at another, she vomits staples while at work. When she was little, her mother, Shirley Jones, was hauled away by authoritarian “blue-uniforms”; she’s one of many women who’ve been accused of poisoning birds as a terrorist act, sometimes causing them to act violently—though it becomes clear that the real reason that animals are acting so strangely is due to massive pollution, caused, in part, by the manufacture of “POP’S COLA.” As a young woman, the protagonist becomes involved with an unnamed, self-centered musician; when he gets a job with a group of Elvis impersonators, she follows him to desolate High Plains, Nevada, where their relationship deteriorates. At its best, Saunders’ tense prose calls to mind the experimental work of Renee Gladman, and her worldbuilding recalls J.G. Ballard, as when a band of protestors joyfully documents the death of a cow on their cell phones: “What are you filming? the woman asks…Decay, they say, not looking up.” The imagery is simultaneously off-kilter and razor-sharp (“The reporter’s voice cuts into the girl’s ears like steel whorls. Stepping outside, she can taste the sea, its blue relief, and hear the rattling of animals in the bushes”), which makes the main character’s journey consistently compelling and dreamlike. The society in which the protagonist lives, which detests women and cracks down on even mild dissent, is sketched with little subtlety at times (one protestor’s sign states, “EXCLUSIVELY BLAMING WOMEN IS A CRIME ITSELF”), but it feels grimly familiar. The novel’s insights into toxic masculinity are especially cogent; the cultish, all-male “All-Elvis enclave” is initially amusing, but its corrupting influence on the main character’s boyfriend—who shows increasing contempt for her, and for all women, as the narrative progresses—gives the joke a jagged edge.

A thoughtful and affecting dystopian parable.