Lessons in Chemistry, by Bonnie Garmus
'Chemist Elizabeth Zott is not your average woman. In fact Elizabeth Zott would be the first to point out that there is no such thing.'
This is the first line of the blurb of 'Lessons in Chemistry', and it is absolutely brilliant. It sums up so pithily and perfectly the woman this book is all about: Elizabeth Zott is a chemist, who defines herself as such. She is bright, independent, individual, unwaveringly rational, and she refuses to be pigeonholed as a 'housewife' - which, in the androcentric 1960s era the book is set in, was a label widely applied to all women, because women were homogenous and intellectually insignificant and belonged in the kitchen. Of course, we know that this is outrageously false - but such sexism was so culturally ingrained that even many women believed it. Garmus uses this book, and her deviously counter-cultural heroine Elizabeth Zott, to expose the systemic sexism of the sixties, and to champion the women who dared to challenge the status quo. And it's a fantastic read.
The plight of oppressed women is something I've read about before - sadly, sexist discrimination is nothing new. But Garmus's setting of the world of academia, in particular the world of women in science, was a fresh angle - an angle almost as underrepresented as the woman scientists themselves - and for that reason it was really interesting to read about. We first meet Zott working at Hastings Research Institute, where she is in the midst of conducting groundbreaking study. But the sexism she is up against just makes one shake one's head in sick disbelief; there are small things, like being assumed a secretary and being nicknamed 'Luscious Lizzie', and much bigger things, like having her work stolen by her male colleagues and passed off as their own, physical sexual assault from her male employers, and eventual enforced resignation on the basis of her being pregnant. 'Lessons in Chemistry' is fiction, but there is little doubt in my mind that many of these examples would have been common practice in 1960s research labs, and my heart aches for the women.
But Garmus's book does not purely exist in the scientific research realm - in fact, Zott is fired from Hastings relatively early on. Struggling for money, she ends up signing on as host of an afternoon TV cooking show - and transplanting Elizabeth Zott into this setting was a stroke of genius from Garmus. Worlds collide, head-on; the damage is considerable and the results are hilarious. The world of the TV cooking show is a place where one must look attractive, fashionable and sexy for the screen, where one says the scripted thing whether one agrees with it or not because that is what will please the people, where the target audience and thus required persona of the presenter is 'housewife'. It is everything Zott is not - so naturally she does it entirely her own way. It turns out that the entertainment industry can be just as groundbreaking as research - Elizabeth presents her cooking as chemistry (which essentially it is!), refuses to hide her unorthodoxy, and thus inspires a whole generation of housewives to be more assertive. Her obstinate contrariness causes a great headache for the people working behind the scenes on the TV show, but it takes the country by storm in the manner of a revolution, and as readers we are absolutely rooting for her.
I think the characterisation was my favourite thing about this book. Elizabeth is brilliantly feisty and self-assured, cutting against the cultural grain in a way that is so reasonable, so relatable - and her character is constructed and developed so thoughtfully and believably that I confess I even had to look up whether she was indeed a real person. She wasn't, but she is so well-written.
But she wasn't actually my favourite character - that award goes (somewhat surprisingly) to the dog. I am not really a dog person. I don't despise them vehemently, I'm just ambivalent to them, but I surprised myself by being absolutely emotionally sold by the dog in this book. He is called Six-Thirty (even his quirky name is endearing!) and Garmus writes him as though he is a human character. He has thoughts, emotions, fears (which are integral to the plot), there are passages written from his perspective, his character even develops throughout the book. He is just as sensitively drawn as the book's heroine - in many ways he is the hero! - but of course, being a dog, his intelligence and character is woefully underestimated by everyone around him. Elizabeth sees him for who he is, and she loves him and talks to him and teaches him words, but most people dismiss him as merely a simple pet. And this works wonderfully as a parallel with Elizabeth's story as a woman scientist - ignored, underestimated, misunderstood, worth a great deal more than given credit for, and extremely lovable. It's so beautifully done.
The only thing I didn't love about this book was its atheism - and it's not the fact that it took an atheist viewpoint that annoyed me, it's the way it presented its atheism, and the assumptions inherent in its approach, that I didn't like. I believe in God, Elizabeth Zott doesn't - and that is completely fine. What annoyed me was that Garmus throughout this novel used the idea of belief in God, and involvement with the church, to contrast Elizabeth Zott's rationality, reasonableness and sense. She was constructing science and religion as polar opposites, and it was a paradigm that she crafted in and through every element of the novel: it was in the plot, it was in the imagery, it was in the characterisation - every Christian in this book was either a cruel immoral liar or secretly an atheist. I am of course aware that there sadly exist Christians who lie, who do cruel things and who doubt (we are flawed humans too!), but it saddened me that Garmus was using this very ungenerous presentation of Christianity as corrupt and delusional to benefit her presentation of science as sensible and venerable. She was evidently working from the assumption that faith in God and faith in science are mutually exclusive - but I don't think they are so irreconcilable; theism is no more irrational a belief system than atheism, and one can certainly be both a scientist and a Christian. So I found it slightly sad that this foundational assumption was woven so tightly in to the fabric of the book that it became actually quite key to the plot. However, even though this book's underlying worldview was very different to my own, I still loved the book overall. And anyway, it's good to read something that challenges your own assumptions from time to time, particularly when it's as convincingly put together as this; it hasn't changed my convictions, but its critique has made me consider how I would defend my beliefs. Perhaps you will find it similarly provocative - or perhaps its perspective will completely chime with you. That's the joy of literature.
Overall, this was an absolutely fantastic book. Its characters were admirable, lovable and real, its plot was excellent, with several strands that pulled together extremely satisfyingly, and the issues it explored were brilliantly revelatory and thought-provoking. To top it off, the prose throughout was stylish and zippy, which made it particularly page-turning. It had all the right ingredients, in all the right quantities, cooked to perfection. Garmus is a real talent and I would highly recommend!
Brilliant review
Thank you so much!