It was only a matter of time before the tradwife novels arrived. Not only have we been fascinated by these women – and their addictive yet alarming blend of aestheticized nostalgia porn, motherhood and domestic arts tips, and veiled (or not-so-veiled) reactionary politics – for at least half a decade, they are public figures optimized for projection, psychological speculation, and sheer fan fiction. After all, how well do we really know these women? Beneath their carefully constructed images, the precisely curated videos and photos of maternal and wifely bliss they show us, what are they truly thinking? What drives them? And what darker or less wholesome parts of themselves are they cropping out of the frame? These are not the self-narrativizing, confessional mommy bloggers of 20 years ago: they're the opening scene in a horror movie or a thriller, and we're just waiting for the grisly reveal.
This week, we're discussing the book du jour, Caro Claire Burke's buzzy tradwife novel "Yesteryear." This isn't the first tradwife novel – for example, our friend Jo Piazza published an extremely fun murder mystery set in this world last year, "Everyone Is Lying to You" – but it is at the center of the cultural conversation right now. So this seemed like an excellent time to discuss not just Burke's literary take on the topic, but also the unique allure and unique problems of the tradwife novel.
In "Yesteryear," we follow the story of Natalie Heller Mills, a Christian tradwife influencer whose profile is unmistakably inspired by the ur-tradwife, Hannah Neeleman (known as Ballerina Farm). She has five photogenic children and one on the way; she has a handsome cowboy of a husband; she has two nannies, and an on-site content producer. She has a closet full of expensive dresses and cashmere sweaters that she wears each morning to collect eggs from the chicken coop, and a rustic kitchen with hidden appliances. But one morning, she awakens in a version of her life that she barely recognizes, a wholly unromanticized homestead with no microwave, no cashmere sweaters, and no nannies. Instead, she has four children she doesn't recognize, and a hardened, weathered husband who will brook no disagreement. As the novel progresses, we learn more about how Natalie built herself an influencing empire, and the scandal that was threatening to destroy it – and, ultimately, why she ended up back in 1855.
It's an irresistible premise, especially for those of us who have contemptuously dismissed tradwives as living out a safe, cosplay version of a past that was always more dangerous and oppressive than their content seems to admit. What would a modern tradwife do if she awoke on a real homestead? She couldn't hack it! Right? Burke is a compelling writer, and her heroine is unlikable, unreliable, and deeply fascinating. The novel plumbs her psyche for all the resentments and wounds that have formed her into such a bitter and calculating person – and, ultimately, an unstable one. There's a lot in the book that makes it an obvious hit (no wonder it's already been optioned for a project starring Anne Hathaway!). But we also found some aspects of the book disappointing or perplexing.
In this episode, we dug into the idea of tradwife fiction writ large, and the challenges we see as inherent in the genre. We also talk through the whole of "Yesteryear" (so a huge spoiler alert here!) and touch on some of the major themes. And we discuss some of the aspects of the book that didn't work for us, like the glossing over of her experiences of pregnancy, postpartum, and the effects of having a large number of children, as well as the relative absence of broader political context. And did that big twist work for us? We're a little bit torn!
We hope you enjoy! xo
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