Growing up, I was the kind of reader who devoured dystopian novels. From the most popular ones to the cheap cash grabs, trying to emulate what made those popular ones so successful. There was always something that intrigued me about the worlds that these authors created––about how they interpreted the politics and lifestyles of a future so desolate it became unrecognizable––but recently, I’ve struggled to find a dystopian world that captivated me as much as the ones I read when I was young. That is, until I read The School for Good Mothers.
The School for Good Mothers is Columbia School of the Arts graduate Jessamine Chan's debut novel. It follows new mother and recent divorceé Frida Liu, who, on a particularly difficult day, leaves her daughter unsupervised at home for two hours. When her transgression is reported to the police by neighbors who hear her daughter's cries, she is thrust into a battle for custody of her daughter that involves a thorough, invasive investigation of her character and personhood. Ultimately, she is sentenced to attend a new government institution, The School for Good Mothers, that boasts the ability to teach her not only how to care for her child, but also how to truly love her. Frida's voice is unabashed and honest, and Chan's prose sharp and witty, qualities that propel the storytelling forward and keep the reader hooked all the way through until the bitter end.
Part of what makes the dystopia of The School for Good Mothers is how it creeps up on you. At first glance, the novel seems to be firmly rooted in the present––there is no mention of new technology or a major shift in world events. It is only as the reader sits with the novel that the dystopia starts to set in. The state's invasive processes for determining parental fitness, and, eventually, the pivotal piece of technology that will supposedly measure the substantialness of a mother's love. One of the most crucial characteristics of a successful dystopia is that it can impart upon the reader that distinct sense of dread that what they are reading about can happen in their world. The subtle, slow nature of the dystopian reveal in The School for Good Mothers is extremely effective in doing this. Our world looks almost exactly like Frida's world, and the gap between the two seems uncomfortably easy to cross.
This subtle dystopia is one of many elements with which Chan successfully immerses her readers in Frida's world. Her writing style is quick and simple, not overly verbose or flowery, which grounds the reader firmly in Frida's experiences and her responses to them. Indeed, the experiences Frida has in the novel are so visceral that Chan need not linger on every contour of Frida's emotional reactions; the reader feels everything Frida must be feeling right alongside her.
Reading this novel conjured feelings of frustration and anger––not with the quality of the book––but with the things happening to Frida, with the people keeping her from her child and thrusting on her their arbitrary qualifications for adequate motherhood. I am not a mother, nor do I ever intend to be one, but I believe I truly felt, through Frida, the intensity of motherhood and the emotions that occur alongside it. Chan doesn't rely on Frida's internal monologue to instruct the reader on how they must feel during this or that situation, she lets the horrors of Frida's experiences speak for themselves. Even though the reader is not completely in Frida's head every second of the novel, they are walking alongside her, and thus the reading experience becomes all the more immersive. I don't think I would recommend The School of Good Mothers for my mother, or for any other mother, for that matter. I would, however, recommend The School for Good Mothers for anyone looking for a gripping new read that will sink into their brain and stick with them. Be warned: this book does not offer an easy escape from reality. The world that Chan creates in The School for Good Mothers is so reminiscent of our own that it is more a chilling reminder of what we may be heading towards than anything else.
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