The Blondes: A Novel

Mesmerizing. Like Cormac McCarthy on estrogen. Emily Schultz tells a gripping, even haunting, tale in The Blondes, that is subtle, sophisticated, sensitive, quirkily observant, and horrific.

Hazel Hayes is a Ph.D. candidate in Communications Studies spending a term in New York City to pursue her research and, in effect, to avoid her thesis supervisor, Karl Mann, with whom she has inadvisably had an affair. Absence, from Karl and from her other friends in Toronto, does nothing to alleviate her mixed feelings or help her focus on her thesis. And the fact that she has just learned that she is pregnant doesn’t help matters. Her life, her whole world, is a mess. But that’s nothing compared to the mess that is about to ensue when a show more pandemic of rabies-like madness begins to strike blondes and those whose hair colour has been made blonde through dyeing. From an initial attack that Hazel witnesses in the New York subway to outbreaks at JFK and further afield (the Nordic countries are severely at risk), Hazel must negotiate her way through this field of mayhem in order to get back to Toronto.

That makes it sound like a horror story, but it’s really a meditation on representations of women in culture and advertising, a commentary on systemic sexism, a reflection on a woman’s control over her own body (exacerbated by Hazel’s uncertainty over whether she wants to carry her foetus to term), a searching examination of varieties of grief, and yes, of course, also a bit of a horror story. (Interestingly, “blond/blonde” is one of the few adjectives in written English to retain its masculine and feminine grammatical genders.)

The writing is measured, thoughtful, well paced, and crisp. It was a pleasure to read and think about and I would gladly read anything else Emily Schultz chooses to write. Recommended. show less

"Wow!" is right!

(Full disclosure: I received a free electronic ARC for review through NetGalley. Trigger warning for violence, forced pregnancy, and allusions to rape. This review contains minor spoilers, which are clearly marked.)

If you survive, the world you grow up in will be one that has experienced intense panic and distrust, violence and hysteria - though that's a loaded word. I don't think I would have used it before this past year. But now? All of us living with a disease that affects only girls and women? Hysteria is so bang on.

###

Authorities are now able to track the progression of symptoms, which are indeed similar to rabies. The public is advised to be wary - and here the prompter went into a list of symptoms - of women with show more raised voices, acting violently...

Lumbering, limping, exhibiting imbalance...

Flailing or throwing any object...

Grimacing, displaying a downturned expression...

"We're not allowed to have downturned expressions?" the girl beside me muttered. "I mean," she said a bit louder but still to me, "what if we're just worried? In a bad mood? PMS?"

Several heads turned to look at her. It must have made her nervous because she ran her hand back through her hair. She was pale as an elephant's tusk. [...]

As I finished my sandwich, it occurred to me that the news captions on TV had all been directed at men. There was nothing about the symptoms women should look for in themselves.

###

(I apologize in advance if this review is all over the place, but that's what happens when I fall hard for a book. I have so many thoughts I can't decide which direction to go next!)

Graduate student Hazel Hayes is riding out the pandemic in a remote cabin outside of Toronto. It belonged to her thesis adviser, Dr. Karl Mann, with whom she had a brief affair. But he's dead now, and there's only Hazel, his wife Grace - and the unborn child that Hazel is carrying. It's a girl; a dangerous thing to be, even in the days before the Blonde Fury swept the globe, leaving death and destruction in its wake.

One morning Hazel awakes with a start, only to find that Grace has fled from the cabin, leaving her stranded, alone - and heavily pregnant. As she weighs her options, Hazel recounts her story to the alien occupying her insides: the story of how she met and became involved with Dr. Mann; the story of how blonde women brought the world to its knees; and the story of the here and now and what-then.

The narration flits between three time periods: the present, the past/during the pandemic, and the past/pre-pandemic. I didn't find it terribly confusing, but occasionally had trouble fitting events in their proper timelines.

One thing you need to know going in: The science is absurd and makes little sense. If you can get past this - and won't hold an unintended pregnancy and desire for an abortion against the narrator - then you might just love the weird blend of horror, satire, science fiction, and feminism that is The Blondes.

So. The science. The Siphonaptera Human Virus (SHV) - commonly known as Blonde Fury, aka Gold Fever, Suicide Blondes, and California Rabies - is a rabies-like disease that afflicts only women, and only light-haired women, at that. Natural blondes, yes, but also bleach-blondes, and even elderly women with graying hair. Red-heads - of which Hazel is one - being a bit of an in-between color, are also suspect. Once infected, the sufferer becomes mentally impaired and exhibits unprovoked violence, directed both at oneself and others. While there is no cure - the infected are simply shuttled to wards, strapped down, and sedated - shaving or dying light hair dark is touted as a preventative.

As for the cause, there's some talk about fleas, alleles, and melanin, but nothing that makes a whole lot of sense - something Schultz cleverly acknowledges in the story. None of the scientists agree on a model, and as the story progresses, various theories are revised or shot down entirely. As public confidence wanes, conspiracy theories abound; cue the Flea Vector Denialists. While fleas are eventually cleared as vectors, this doesn't stem real-world consequences for their carriers, dogs and cats, who are surrendered to shelters en mass. (In Grace's words, "There's only so much my heart can take.")

* begin minor spoilers *

Schultz expertly weaves the personal with the political via Hazel, a Windsor/Toronto native who's in New York City researching her thesis when the Blonde Fury breaks out. She witnesses the first attack on the subway; the second, which takes place in a salon, strikes a rather personal chord with Hazel - her mother is a stylist.

The pandemic arrives just as she discovers that she's pregnant - punished for her desire. She attempts to get an abortion, but is stymied by a Blonde Fury attack at the clinic the night before her appointment. The clinic is supposed to open the following week, but never does - in light of the pandemic, women's health care is deemed too great a risk.

In light of this, Hazel plans a premature return to Toronto - but again, her plans go bust when stewardesses attack at LaGuardia airport. She faces three days in quarantine, but is sprung early by her unwanted pregnancy status. A quick test clears her, while her non-pregnant passengers are left to suffer in an airplane hangar. As she notes much later in the book: "People are kinder to the unborn than they are to the women themselves."

With the airlines shut down and border security tightening like a noose, Hazel decides to rent a car and drive to Canada. Alas, her red hair does her in; she fails the "carpet-and-drapes" test (yes, it's exactly what it sounds like) and is thrown into quarantine once again: Women's Entry and Evaluation (WEE) for eight weeks. Staffed almost exclusively by military men and filled with women completely disconnected from the outside world, it's a veritable recipe for sexual assault and rape (which is hinted at, but never seems to transpire). Likewise, the cramped, close quarters all but invite an epidemic.

* end spoilers *

Needless to say, Hazel's repeated requests for an abortion go unfulfilled. Forced pregnancy, courtesy of the government.

With a MA in Cultural and Communication and her pursuit of a PhD in Communication Studies - her thesis is in aesthetology, "the study of looking" - Hazel is uniquely qualified to comment on the causes and effects of the Blonde Fury: The rise of the blonde bombshells in early Hollywood at the expense of dark-haired beauties (see, e.g., Dr. Kovacs's own thesis). The high cost of maintaining dyed/shaved heads and bodies, which leaves poor blonde women more susceptible to contracting the disease. The festishization of "dangerous" blondes, and how this affects the sex industry, post-pandemic. The ways in which the Blond Fury plays into and exacerbates society's misogyny and fear of women - and how it is employed to further subjugate women (see, e.g., Hazel's futile attempt to procure an abortion, or woman-centric health care of any type).

While the book's unusual yet simple title first caught my attention, it was Margaret Atwood's blurb that made me pick it up despite its lackluster 3.29-star rating on Goodreads. "Wow!" is right.

The Blondes: A Novel has a distinctly Atwoodian feel to it - and this isn't a compliment I give lightly, since Atwood is my all-time favorite. While The Handmaid's Tale seems to be the popular point of comparison, I often found myself thinking of her 1969 classic, The Edible Woman. Not for any discernible reason, aside from a witty, biting sense of humor and taste for the absurd. But then there are also shades of, yes, The Handmaid's Tale (the women's detention center; the closing of the Canadian borders) and the MaddAddam trilogy (particularly in the weird yet trenchant cultural developments: I will see your Painballers and raise you blonde-backing). Schultz shares with Atwood an uncanny sense of foresight and attention to quirky cultural details.

Though my review has primarily focused on the political, The Blondes is also a story about personal relationships: between mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, and women themselves, whether strangers or lifelong friends.

I also greatly appreciate the diversity of the story, which is as refreshing as it is appropriate. While the three primary characters that make up the "love triangle" at the heart of the story - Hazel, Karl, and Grace - are all white, Schultz does a wonderful job of capturing the diversity of NYC and Toronto. Moira Clemmons, a musician who Hazel befriends during her stay in NYC, is perhaps the most visible character of color; she's black, with "a golden complexion and small dark freckles." Larissa, Hazel's best friend, is married to Jaichand ("Jay" for short), who is of Indian descent; their son Devang is biracial. The first Blonde Fury attack victim in NYC is a teenage girl named Eugenia Gilongos, who's Filipino. One of the men who helps try to save her is Spanish. The blonde woman who attacks her stylist is Thai. An afflicted flight attendant at LaGuardia is "black with bronzed hair." When the attack at LaGuardia happens, Hazel finds refuge in a Starbucks; both baristas (Mae and Kate) are young Korean women. One of the women held in the WEE alongside Hazel is First Nations. I could go on, but you get the idea.

My only quibble? I really want to know what happened with Lara. There's so much untapped potential in that story line.

http://www.easyvegan.info/2015/04/22/the-blondes-a-novel-by-emily-schultz/ show less

Because Blondes is every fashionista's worst nightmare come true. A mysterious virus begins infecting women with blonde hair (even those who've gained blondedom through dyeing), turning them into violent mindless people who attack at random, and kill without a second thought. Kind of like a zombie novel with split ends. Ba-zing!

Schultz being Schultz, however — which means, being the author of Joyland: A Novel and Heaven Is Small, that she is a damned talented individual — there is far greater depth to The Blondes than the surface would indicate (see what I did there?). As much a satire of society's obsession with looks as it is a Outbreak-like contagion thriller, Schultz expertly entwines a speculative fiction premise with social show more commentary, making Blondes akin to Dawn of the Dreadfully Good Looking. Ka-pow!

I'll stop punning now.

Read the full review here. show less

Some crazy pandemic, never fully explained, is affecting only women with blonde hair. Sounds stupid, and it is. Unlikable, indecipherable characters add up to a dark, annoying book that gives you nothing, takes you nowhere and makes you wish that you hadn't wasted your time reading it. It isn't scary, suspenseful, visionary or cautionary. Heed my warning - it's awful!

The Good Stuff

This one truly reminded me of some of Margerat Atwood's earlier books. To me it had a similar mood and writing style to Atwood's The Handmaids Tale (one of my favorite books). Hazel even reminded me of times of Offred.
Smiled when Hazel referred to her fetus as different little pet names as she not only learns to accept her child but learns to love it.
As a Canadian, obviously enjoyed all of the Canadian references
enjoy the developing relationship between Hazel and Grace
The jumping back from past to present was a wee bit hard to get into at first but it works - gives you little bites to keep you hooked and wanting to find out more about what is going on
Main aspect of story being women's powers being stripped away by show more men in charge, as a reaction to a "plague' (in the guise of the protecting the rest of the population)
Darkly funny
I'm a brunette - so you can imagine the appeal of the premise
Would be perfect for a book club discussion. Would lead to fascinating discussions about beauty, friendships, feminism - just to name a few
Dystopian (speculative fiction) - I am always a sucker for this genre.
Please don't be put off by my opinion of this novel. The author is gifted, it really is just me in this case. I think I was expecting something different and this effected my enjoyment of the story.

The Not So Good Stuff

I was extremely frustrated with Hazel (The character Grace so eloquently mentions in the story, that Hazel is " is a bit of a dumb slut") and I personally had a hard time feeling empathy for her. For someone so educated, I expected more from her.
Felt more at times like a social commentary than a story - not really a bad thing, but personally I enjoy more story (Yes, I know I am sure this makes me somewhat a less intelligent woman - but I really don't care - this is who I am and I won't apologize for it) So in other words, if you are more intelligent than I (which not to be self deprecating or anything - but that would be most of you ) you will love this.
Could not understand why she fell for her professor - nothing intriguing about him and quite frankly I found him to be repulsive
Ok, picky picky on this one. Scientifically I don't understand how natural and peroxide blondes could both be affected, it just didn't make sense.

Favorite Quotes/Passages

"God, how we all wanted to work at Canadian Broadcasting Corporation! It was practically upper-middle-class welfare."

"I joked that I thought there might be protestors, and Kovacs told me that it was no joke, we were lucky. This wasn't Canada where maniacs were polite."

"She was one of those glass-half-full types, and I would've been ready to choke her at the end of the eight weeks, if someone else hadn't tried."

"I thought about my own Mom going through that fatigue, and the nausea, every second of every day for months for me, and how I never knew that and never respected her - and I wished now that I had. I wished I could take back every mean thing I'd ever retorted, every time I rolled my eyes, or didn't listen."

3 Dewey's

I borrowed this from our backroom where staff drop off their ARC's that they are done with show less

I devoured this book. On the surface, it's a story of a global viral pandemic that turns blonde women violent. But along the way it makes some very clever observations about beauty marketing, the way men and women relate to each to other, the marginalization and criminalization of the mentally ill, and how friends and allies can be found in the most unlikely and unexpected of places.

This was an amazing read! An interesting spin on the dystopian theme that seems to be so popular these days. The ending was supremely satisfying, and left me thinking about love and loss and sisterhood and humanity for days afterward. Highly recommended.