You know those books with the awkward titles? The ones that are manifestos masquerading in fiction? That’s Dietland.
I read Dietland for DC Feminist Book Club. It was, appropriately, a feminist tome.
There’s movement in feminism right now. Feminism (rightly) wants to include people who were excluded in earlier years. People of color, people with disabilities, men, LGBT folks and queers more broadly… Not just white women with money anymore. That’s a feminism of acceptance that I can get behind.
This book wasn’t that. It was an homage to the bra-burners of the second wave. Men were either evil or absent, and sex with men couldn’t be anything but exploitative. It vaguely alluded to lesbianism, but not in any interesting way.
It’s the book you keep away from people who aren’t sold on feminism yet because it will absolutely turn them off. In book club, we spent a lot of time talking about who the book wasn’t for, to the point that it was kind of difficult to imagine exactly who it was for.
This book was meant as a battle cry for people who are already feminists — and probably already women.