*The following content may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through the links below, I may receive compensation.
**The Above photo is not of All Fours but of my palate-cleansing Mary Oliver book, more of a refreshing primer in poetic scansion, a Christmas gift from my sister.
I had intended this final post of 2024 to be a patchwork of words, lyrics, phrases that have changed me this year. I spent some time poking around old posts, flipping through my notebooks, waking up in bed with half-formed annotations on the many excellent things I read in 2024 from Kingsolver, Mary Oliver, Robert Frost, and even J.D. Salinger. But the post ended up feeling like a chore in some way, perhaps too high-stakes (I would have assuredly left something out), and one thing I have learned in my many years of writing is that — if it’s boring to write, it’s going to be boring to read. So we’ll scrap that, and the entire song and dance of somehow “wrapping” the year in a meaningful way, and talk about a few things that are on my mind today, right now, at the very tail end of December 2024.
The first is All Fours by Miranda July, which I read 80% of in under 24 hours while running a low-grade fever just after Christmas. Honestly, this may be the most appropriate way to read All Fours, alarming, occasionally grotesque, and uncomfortable as it is. The reaction it elicited from me was unlike the reaction I’ve had to any other book I’ve ever read. It was a bit like looking on Dali for the first time: the dripping clock is immediately recognizable and yet everything is skewed and distorted and ominous. Just after I finished it, I wrote that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I needed a palate cleanser, an enormous glass of wine, forty-two hours of continuous book club discussion of the text, a cold shower, a hug from my husband, and probably a lot more than that. Which is to say that the text sent me outward and inward and in fifty-two distinct directions. There were times in the book in which I felt unsafe; I’ve never felt that way in the company of a page. All good art achieves some amount of cognitive dissonance — the uncomfortable turn of the kaleidoscope — and via this litmus, the book is high art. I am now thinking of the Marcel Duchamp “Fountain” installation. We rage against it! We are furious that it sits in the Pompidou! How dare…! And yet its very existence reifies art as an institution, begging us to trot out our half-kneaded understandings of what art is, or is not. I suppose what I am saying is that this book achieved something incredible based solely on the wilderness of emotion it unleashed in me.
Now to the tickier-tackier stuff.
But before that, a warning – this book is graphic and challenging. I think you must be in the right (solid and open) mindspace to read it. It examines the institution of marriage, challenges the values of monogamy, foregrounds sexual exploration, and includes a troubling and recurring plot sequence about fetal-maternal hemorrhaging.
Still, this is big art, and I think meritorious.
First, the book feels urgent in its treatment of perimenopause, a life stage about which we barely talk, and yet in which so many of us struggle in lonely straits. (A recent book on the subject by Heather Corinna was titled: “What fresh hell is this?” — yes.) I will humbly admit that I went to the OBGYN a year ago with what I thought were the symptoms of a malignant problem only to be handed a pamphlet about perimenopause. Yikes! I knew nothing! After, I’ve prodded friends and siblings at random moments with knowing comments and have been unsurprised by the fact that about 80% of the responses have been: “what? no, it’s not that.” On this level, the book is treating something important and unspoken, and in powerful ways. It is educative, and ultimately optimistic. There is a section in which the protagonist asks her friends the best part of being past the child-bearing years, and they present a litany of things to look forward to — women shared that they feel more like themselves than they ever have, as they are not constantly contending with the fluctuations of hormones and the occasional monsters they make of us; physical issues settle down; there is a general sense of unmasking. Wow! In a culture that valorizes youth, these were lifelines to cling to. And the book seems to be advancing a new category of literature and art dedicated to middle-life — I’m interested in the fact that Babygirl was just released to theaters, too.
Second, there are many vigorously expressed truths in this book about motherhood in particular, about the ways we accommodate (or don’t) the loved ones in our lives, about the aftermath of troubling relationships from our childhoods. Maybe truths we don’t want to admit to, or truths we can only side-eye, or even truths we do not relate to (have never experienced) but that we can understand the legitimacy of because we’ve born witness to permutations of it ourselves. I am thinking specifically about some of the characterizations of motherhood in this book — about the way motherhood asks us, or the “institution” of motherhood asks us (i.e., the way certain paradigms of motherhood are socialized, expressed, reinforced in contemporary culture), to perform a pleasant kind of “sameness” from day to day even when we are humans in constant flux and imperfectness. And how immensely difficult this is, even when we love our children beyond all reason.
The aspects of this book that filled me with unhappiness were the treatment of marriage and the inclusion of the protagonist’s child. I could not feel more differently than the protagonist, and I found it created a kind of alien space between me as a reader and her as a protagonist. I kept wanting to “get on board” with her midlife crisis, to make a wide berth for her emotions, and yet I struggled, and found the narrative slippery in this way. Assuredly this is July’s point, and I’m simply too obtuse or uptight or whatever you might call it to accommodate the pressure. There are very few pages in the novel in which July does not prod us in some way to get out from under the weight of our own pre-judgments. But still…! I was worried about the child the entire time, while the narrator absorbs herself in…herself, which in turn made me cringe for the duration of the novel. Reading it was like having my shoulders up around my ears for two days straight. I was a stress-filled, cringed-out mess!
Finally, I found the self-awareness about art, and artistic performance, throughout this novel, fascinating — it continuously throttled me out of the narrative. I would be speeding along, absorbing the story as I would any other, and suddenly I’d wonder if the very text itself wasn’t a mirror, or trap door? Like was the motel room in the plot an embedded act of art itself, meant to be understood via some other elevation, rather than a plot accelerant? And her semi-nude dance in the parking lot: what was this? A rogue performance that could be understood on its own two legs (pun intended), outside of the plot? There were so many moments like this in the novel, where instances of art studded the text like geodes: carrying their own inner crystals to be examined separately perhaps. I thought also the moment in which the protagonist returns to her motel room only to learn it’s been occupied by another guest, and is forced to visit a plain room next door — there was something intentionally slick here, something Borgesian, maybe, where we are watching the artist click-clack the viewfinder just a tick to the right, just to see what chaos it creates in the plot, in the arc of the story, in the overall canvas.
Please share your thoughts, reactions, issues…! Among readers I’ve polled, about half were astounded by it (in a positive way) and half absolutely hated this book, did not finish, etc. Wherever you land is just fine. (Bad book girls, remember?)
Post Scripts.
+A lot of you have been recommending Berry Pickers — just downloaded to read next!
+More recent book reviews here and here.
+Are you a book repeater?
+All my favorite books of 2024. I don’t think July’s would have made my list, no matter how impressive I found it.
Shopping Break.
The following content may contain affiliate links. If you make a purchase through the links below, I may receive compensation.
+Hotel Lobby discounted its holiday scented candles! I’ll burn these all winter, well past Christmas, in my home! Awhile ago, a Magpie wrote to say that she does her holiday baking well into February so she can extend the joy of the season without feeling rushed to “pack it all in” during the first few weeks of December — I apply the same principle to candles! Why stop burning the Christmas scents on December 25?!
+I’m newly re-obsessed with this liquid blush (you can buy in a mini size if you want to test first — my favorite colors are hope and happy). It’s hyper-pigmented, so only a dab is needed, and then you blend out. I like to finish with this liquid luminizer for serious glow. (I can’t find the exact quote, but Gwyneth Paltrow at some point said something like “I want my face to be beaming out a million rays of light” and I couldn’t agree more – I love layering glowy products!) BTW, I found this quick tutorial on blush application SO helpful. I’ve been using the “sculpted” option and am surprised by how different my makeup looks!
+Quince just re-launched its cashmere fisherman turtleneck with even softer cashmere (and 20% more of it in the sweater). They compare this style with the Jenni Kayne sweater (which costs $695 vs. Quince’s $119).
+BUT it should be noted Jenni Kayne is offering up to 40% off select products, including the aforementioned cashmere turtleneck, and their viral Cooper cardigan in this chic stripe.
+I love these jeans so much, I want to order in another color (I own in the black wash). Go a size down! I wish they made the petite inseam in the white wash!
+Did I already share this (??) — this cute textured cardigan is under $100 and reminds me of the Anine Bing one everyone has been freaking out over! For a bolder vibe, this striped style is adorable.
+Perfect slouchy sweatshirt. Hits right at waist and looks so good with leggings/jeans. I own in the red color. I wore this morning on a family walk with these leggings in red, my brown VB sneaks, my Barbour, and this inexpensive sherpa belt bag. So cozy!
+Update on my skin gadget recon: I am really impressed with the red light mask (10% off with code JEN10). I think this and the Dr. Dennis Gross pads have been making an enormous impact on my skin — specifically, I have noticeable wrinkles between my eyebrows and on my forehead, and I feel like the wrinkles are less defined and my skin overall looks more even/balanced. Mr. Magpie has been using the red light mask, too, and he said he thinks it’s made his wrinkles less noticeable, too. The Dr. Dennis Gross pads have really changed the texture of my skin — it feels so incredibly smooth and soft! I have been dabbling with the NEWA but find it difficult to work into my routine if I’m honest. Emese Gormley recently mentioned that she thinks this is an incredible product, so I’m hoping to figure out a way to carve it into my regimen, probably in the new year, after the kids are back to school and we’ve resumed a more normal routine. (It takes 20 minutes each session.) It is supposed to help with collagen production! They are currently offering 20% off plus an extra 15% off with code JEN15. And I haven’t yet tested the ZIIP but they reached out to give us a code: SHOOP for 10% off! Just sharing all my codes in case these are items you’re eyeing / interested in.
+While I was writing that previous bullet point, I noticed that Dr. Dennis Gross has an entire section of products currently 40% off…I’ve not tried these items but have been so impressed with the other products of his I have used. Just wanted to mention!
I was flabbergasted by this book, in both good and bad ways. At moments, I found the protagonist relatable (who’s not having an midlife crisis?) and then completely repellent (but… why THESE decisions?). I think it’s a remarkable book because I had such strong, visceral reactions to it, and I thought the extremity was the point even if it that’s also what made me hate it at times. One of my most memorable reads of 2024.
I completely agree with this: “I think it’s a remarkable book because I had such strong, visceral reactions to it.” I agree! We can appreciate things even if we don’t necessarily find them soothing/pleasing/etc!
xx
I enjoyed your thoughts! I thought the first third (her time in Monrovia) of the book was impressive. It was immersive and I was able to suspend my disbelief ($20k for a motel renovation?!) for the sake of the theme. Here is a woman who clearly feels there is no space for her true self in the world — so she’s going to great and unusual lengths (ie renovation) to make one. Davey, of course, was also a driving force of Act 1. I also cared the least about her child’s well being in act 1 because even if she was lying about her whereabouts, her child was being cared for by her husband anyway and that was the plan.
I found the protagonist hard to take seriously in act 2 though — like she was going off the rails. I understand the structure of a novel — the nadir (all hope is lost) point often comes right before the end of act 2, so never did I think her “plan” would work but honestly how could she???? I started doubting her intelligence and worrying there was something mentally unwell about her which would negatively impact others, most importantly her child, but the author’s argument seems to be “there is nothing wrong with me society is wrong.” On the one hand, I actually really like this argument — on the other, we live in relationship with others IN SOCIETY. So if society is “wrong” I don’t believe the “solution” is to become so wildly self absorbed you ignore all the relationships in your life? The climax of act 2 was thematic enough (Audra), but then I thought Act 3 totally lost me from a plot perspective. Truly “lost the plot” as people say. The tidbits on how menopause is great could have been an essay. The ending felt forced and hard to believe. Some of the sex scenes felt needlessly provocative.
My TL; DR review: it was an ambitious book and I respect it. But the back 2/3 failed to maintain the momentum of the first third.
Completely agree with the analysis of the three acts. I agree that the final act was the most bizarre and…obtuse? Like what are we meant to take from that final scene where she’s watching the dance? I also agree that her solipsism was troubling, distracting, cringe, etc. Probably the point?? It was so exaggerated, I felt like she was underlining it and highlighting it and pointing arrows at it. And what were the stakes, etc?
xx
I’m in the positive camp. I feel like I maybe didn’t fully understand it, but I liked the writing and I wanted to keep reading through the discomfort to see what happened.
I’m with you, I think it is a worthy read, even if uncomfortable, upsetting, etc. It really challenged me, unseated me, in unusual ways. I also think some of the writing was almost breathtakingly vulnerable and true. (Not all of it by a longshot, but some just rang deep.)
xx
I’m glad to hear that you finished the book even if it was distressing and caused all sorts of feelings to come up. It is important to acknowledge the feelings and that’s interesting you thought of the child the entire time. I myself read this book three months after purchasing and had to pause and take a step back and then became immersed in it. I will read it again at some point and if it becomes a film yay. You mentioned the recent film Babygirl, what connection are you thinking here? I saw this over the weekend and it was one of the best films I’ve seen Kidman in. For me the connection is that both protagonists are finally embracing who they are, what they want, and put themselves first, knowing how high the stakes are and that they can lose everything. Yet is it society that tells women how a Mother, and Wife should be rather than they themselves figuring out the type of Woman they are? My own definitions of the terms Mother, Wife, Woman have been explored through various texts since I did my capstone on this in undergrad from the philosophical lens and English to a certain extent while incorporating film and the arts (paintings, plays,). I think this book challenges the notion of what a mother should be versus what she actually is. I also found myself thinking about the scenes in Fleishman is in Trouble and her experience in childbirth, also extremely traumatic. These issues need to be talked more about, women should be in all places and that there isn’t just one path. Kind of the message Kacey Musgrave states in her song, Follow Your Arrow, just trust your instinct and live life the way your own conscious dictates without needing approval from {The Roman Catholic Church}, which has extremely narrow and very restricted views on Motherhood, Marriage and being true to oneself in my opinion.
All Fours shows us what a truly intimate relationship looks like and feels like, how this plays out, and the reminding readers that we need to fil our own cup first before we can be there fully for others, imo. W Woman is not simply Wife and Mother but moves throughout her life as all simultaneously and some only are Woman and some Woman and Wife. Yet Motherhood doesn’t end being just a Woman. I am though always going to advocate for women to put themselves first and yes children are important but they should bear witness to a leading lady living her best life and filling her own cup first.
Happy 2025 and I look forward to more posts in the coming years!
Such interesting points — this was really powerful: “Yet Motherhood doesn’t end being just a Woman.” Really fascinating concept there – going to be chewing on this.
xx
I think you got a year ahead of yourself or wishing 2025 was over. Your posts are one of the first things I read in the morning after the news and it’s a true palate cleanser as your writing and your perspective on life puts things that I sometimes grapple with in focus. I look forward to reading your musings in and on 2025. Cheers!
Haha! Thanks for catching that typo! And thank you more deeply for your readership and encouragement. So happy you’re here!
I hated All Fours! Like you, I couldn’t stop mentioning it to my husband, so I guess the good news is that it got me thinking. However, I recoiled against it. It felt very performative and stereotypical in a bad way; a trope of a Brooklyn/LA hipster mom’s idea of what her midlife crisis should be. I mostly left the book feeling deeply glad that, at 40, I know who I am and who I’m not, and I’m most definitely NOT like the protagonist, nor do I have any aspirations to be like her. She’d probably find me boring, to which I say: good!
Completely agree with this comment! I also just could not get past spending 20k on remodeling a hotel room. Can you even do that? My practical side just lost it at that moment. I could not.
That was a really strange/tough pill to swallow. It felt egregious. But I think that specific detail sort of threw me out of the frame of “reading as if this could actually happen” and seeing things more as, like, performance art, or allegory in some way?
xx
“So I guess the good news is that it got me thinking” — this is exactly where I landed. Didn’t enjoy it, made me feel unsafe and disturbed, but also — really pushed me to think, and to react, and to throttle myself out of my own world. Cognitive dissonance!
xx
Just came to say the berry pickers is potentially a more difficult book to read than all fours! Really heartbreaking 🙁
Ack! Thanks for the heads up!