As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I had my reading list for the start of 2020 all sorted. I finished Philip Pullman and his hysterical ‘male American novelist’ ending (more on that another time). I started The Power Broker. And then I faltered. With the British winter misery and the slog of a post-Christmas job-hunt, I wasn’t feeing up to the challenge. So, I switched up to Oligarchy by Scarlett Thomas.
The latest by one of my greatest
I was definitely keen to read this book - Scarlett Thomas is a favourite author of mine. However, even before I began, I had a couple of reservations. The blurb was a little…less-than:
When Tash, daughter of a Russian Oligarch, is sent to an English boarding school, she is new to the strange rituals of the girls there. Theirs is a world of strict pecking orders, easting disorders and Instagram angst.
Hmm. I was also concerned at the thinness of the book. Having read several of Thomas’s novels, brevity hasn’t been a common thread. Intricacy and earth-bound fantasy abound; detailed research on an obscurity is usual; and the intertwining yarn slowly winds through her pages. When I opened Oligarchy I saw it was not only thin, but also its margins were wide and its font LARGE.
I tried hard to put these concerns out of my mind. A book doesn’t have to be long to be good. So, I began, ready to be accepted into another of her intricate internal worlds.
What’s the book about?
A good review should probably attempt to give an overview of the plot. But honestly, it’s so thin there’s hardly anything to summarise. I’ll do my best.
The daughter of a Russian criminal oligarch is sent to a lower-grade girls’ boarding school in England. She falls in with the ‘eating disorder crowd’. One of them dies. The school reacts in a completely unbelievable and ham-fisted way, leading to more eating disorders, the death of a teacher and the uncovering of the head teacher’s obsession with thin girls drowning themselves - apparently.
It pains me to be so brutal; I hold other books by Scarlett Thomas in such high regard - The End of Mr Y, Pop Co, The Seed Collectors. But this book feels like it’s by an entirely different person.
The disappointment is real
The book served its purpose - it was a light and unimposing read that I could sail through before bed without much trouble. Beyond that though, it was a real disappointment. Its plot was as thin as the book, the characters poorly formed and flimsy, and the language bordering on the ridiculous.
I realise the book is set among modern, privileged teenagers, which as much as I hate to admit, is far from my situation now. I would be like, so old and a total pleb to these characters. So, I can’t pretend to know if the language and preoccupations of these girls is accurate, but accurate or not, it is annoying.
And, in the words of Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett in The Guardian, Thomas’s portrayal isn’t just asinine, it’s cruel:
… there is a cruelty to Thomas’s descriptions of the girls that relies on punching down … but isn’t funny enough to get away with it…Having dislikable characters is one thing, but here they are almost held in contempt.
More savage than saviour
As per Cosslett’s comment, I don’t feel much empathy for Oligarchy’s girls because Thomas is so unkind in their portrayal. They have no depth, no hinterland - no real distinguishing personality traits to differentiate them from each other, other than their nicknames and accents.
I suppose, at a stretch, this could be considered deliberate: a way to tap into the idea that the world disregards teenage girls and their eating disorders as silly little preoccupations, rather than the serious mental and physical health issues that they are.
But, I don’t buy it.
I know the harmful power of social media, of beauty standards, and the continuing pressure of the male gaze are extremely serious problems and young girls are poorly emotionally equipped to handle them. This can lead to seemingly flippant obsessions and cliques. And Thomas only gives us this latter half.
The book hardly touches on the causes of this form of self-harm. Other than a brief moment where Tash is sexually assaulted on the Tube - a hand rubbing her crotch - the world that pushes these girls into their bubble is barely seen. And this cheapens the girls’ experience of the world in turn.
Redeeming features
All this said, the book is not irredeemable. I read the whole thing, keen to tie up the plot strands. The end was a disappointment, but the build up had some credibility. And, I have to say, Aunt Sonja is a great character.
On the fringes of the story, Sonja starts out a cliché, but surprises us with her savvy and her delicate approach to not fetishising eating disorders. She herself has one, but knows entirely that it’s not what makes her powerful or rich.
Late in the story, she gives a short presentation to her niece (and lead character), Tash, while they binge on truffle pasta, champagne and cake. She runs through a series of pictures of women like Hillary Clinton, Michelle Obama and female business leaders.
What do they have in common? Power.
Then she runs through a series of ‘celebrities’: the actresses or pop starts the teenagers want to look like. What do they have in common? They all look the same; and they have no power at all.
Shortly afterwards, we hear Aunt Sonja throwing up post-binge; but, Tash comments, perhaps it is “a little less” than usual.
Reeling from reactions
The real oddity for me is all the positive and glowing reviews of this book I’ve since found online. The Washington Post, The New York Times, and another Guardian review even - they all talk about this book as a funny, sharp, fast-paced satire. They say Thomas’s sentences are so perfectly structured.
Michael Schaub writes for NPR:
And it's Thomas' boldness, as well as her writing — every sentence seems painstakingly constructed — that make Oligarchy such a remarkable novel. It's brash, bizarre and original, an unflinching look at a group of young women who have become "hungry ghosts, flickering on the edge of this world.”
I can’t see what those reviewers do.
It’s not an unflinching look at these young women. It’s a fleeting and cartoonish look. It’s brash, sure, but not in an engaging way. It’s light, it’s thin and as you go progress, the little substance it has starts to disappear in the same way as her female protagonists do. The story dissolves as her characters’ bodies waste and crumble in their neglected self-hate. It’s sad for all concerned.