I wanted this to be a feminist book that I could hand to people and say, Don’t take away women’s rights!

I wanted this to stir my heart and make me think.

I wanted to read about fierce women in the aftermath of an unfair law.

Instead I found a self-involved housewife with a dull husband and two snotty kids, a psychotic teacher who is obsessed with having a baby even though she constantly asks herself why she even wants one, made up stories about the subject of said teacher’s biographical and unfinished novel, a fifteen-year-old girl whose life might be ruined because she can’t get the abortion she needs, and a kitchen witch who lives in the woods and drinks tea made from her dead aunt’s pubic hair.

I found characters who are flat in an even flatter world.

I found a novel with constant references to vaginas and pubic hair and biological clocks as if being gross would make this story more meaningful. This was a cringe-read from start to finish.

Two stars because Eivor Minervudottir was pretty interesting and I would prefer to just read a book about female polar explorers.