I have spent as much time as I can trying to formulate my thoughts on this book. I absolutely must talk about it now.
First, I’ll warn that it’s a bit of a slow burn and as someone who really really likes the action to start immediately, I get that that’s not everyone’s cup of tea. For me, I will say there was a lot of lag in the beginning where there wasn’t much happening and the main theme seemed to be jealousy. I was still here for it, because I could see it turning into commentary on internalized misogyny and women’s mistrust of other women, etc., but nah. It’s not about that.
It’s really about the connections women have to each other, even when they don’t know it. About how, even when you look at another chick and vehemently deny that you two could have anything in common, being women does connect us because there are some experiences that connect us.
I keep coming back to that word: connect.
Connections are a huge part of this book in basically every sense. Connections as in nepotism and favoritism style connections. Romantic connections. Family. Friendship. We get to see how incredibly complex all these relationships are but how, much like the human brain, each part is connected and works to make us function (or not).
Okay, I guess I’ve spent enough time on a kind of vague overview, so let me give you a more concrete look at the book: Give Me Your Hand (and I’m sorry it’s not italicized; for some strange reason my phone is not letting me select the title) is the story of two women, Kit and Diane, who share a strange kind of rivalry from childhood. It’s the kind of rivalry most people hope to experience at some point in life: they are in competition with each other, but they initially bond over that competition and use it to make each other stronger rather than tearing each other apart. As the two girls grow closer, a Secret ultimately drives them apart while simultaneously connecting them in a way that will last for their lifetime.
Initially—actually for a lot of this book—I thought Kit was wrong not to trust Diane. I won’t go into more spoilers than that, but even after you read the “reveal” you won’t feel that differently about anything. It’s strange because the book is a thriller and there is a very tense, climactic scene... but somehow the climax isn’t the part that matters or sticks with you. It’s truly a book about how much women are cast aside and underestimated by others in their lives, even other women. There’s a constant devaluing that happens and it changes us, I think. Anti-feminist types, I can see your eyes glazing over, but pause: you’ll like it, too. Like I said, there’s a twist. There’s a climax. There are a dozen threads that all tie together at the end. But there’s also something deeper. There is an honest look at the complex lives of women. And, with the focus on the PPMD study, there is an honest look at the fear of female bodies, not just by men; but ourselves.
Last year, when teaching the movie Rosemary’s Baby, I was bringing in the reproductive element of the film when I found an article that argued that the central fear in Rosemary’s Baby is a fear of women’s bodies during pregnancy because of the mystery and power that comes from the changes required to create life. One of those changes is blood: “the blood is the life” as Dr. Severin would say. My husband has only told one joke through the years that made me cringe: “never trust something that bleeds for seven days and doesn’t die.” While this makes me literally want to vomit because of its misogyny, it holds a kind of truth that is constant in this book: men are terrified and angry when women are too powerful and the blood of menstruation.... it’s both an excuse and a reason to hate us.
Wow. I could really say a lot more about this, but you should do yourselves a favor and buy this book.
I loved this book. It’s definitely a must read. 5/5
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