A short collection of mostly very readable essays themed around the silencing of women as happening at time of writing. Although the title essay came out of a very specific instance of someone blindly assuming that Solnit didn't know the content of her own book and determinedly shutting her out of the conversation, refusing to hear that she wrote the book he was pontificating on, much of this is focused on more violent exclusions. Solnit's right that there's an argument to be had - which for the most part isn't being had - on the divisions of gender and violence, and this book's a good starting point for grappling with that. The risk of essay collections, however, is that they can sometimes be unfocused, and to some extent that's what happens here. There's a lengthy diversion on Virginia Woolf which seems at best mildly relevant, only included because the author has a deep love for her and apparently writes about her a lot. Unfortunately, if you're like me and cannot muster up one iota of excitement for the woman who inflicted Mrs Dalloway upon us all, then you might end up wishing Solnit would put her shoehorned fave aside and get back to the contemporary point already.