“There’s a certain kind of smile that’s not safe to return. Every woman knows this.”
Right before I sat down to lay out my feelings about this particular collection of angry as fuck stories by Laurel Hightower, stumbled on some guy blasting the worn out line that stories shouldn’t be ABOUT anything. Just characters doing stuff and the stuff that happens in return. I know what he meant, even if his words were mangled and unsmart: make it about the story, not your agenda. But stories are an extension of our humanity. The stories we tell are a way of sharing how we experience the world. Not including your feelings would be neutering the whole damn thing. Deep down, I feel like they really and for true mean that they only want to see their own agenda and feelings reflected in story.
Fuck that particular sentiment with some rusty rebar.
Every Woman Knows This is a very personal, very pointed collection of stories that reflect Laurel’s experience of the world as a woman. Experiences that are common enough that she can comfortably state that commonality in the title. And, just sure we are clear here, Hightower is explicit in the inclusion of all women in this explanation, so please take a leap with your TERF bullshit. These stories hit on everything from dealing with stalkers to the perils of motherhood to always having to clean up after some manchild that never listens to reason and climbs down into an abandoned submarine just to poke around for a bit BECAUSE OF COURSE HE DID, and every one of them hits right in the gut.
Yes, they are still all about the story and about well developed characters. Its just that the things those characters see are things too many people have to deal with waaay too damn often and Laurel Hightower want you to be as pissed off about that as she is. It works precise because of how well she has honed them, to gleaming edges that cut deep. They feel real. Solid and honest. There is no preaching from the mount here, she just grabs you by the scruff of your neck and shoves your face into it. She makes you live it, if for only that bit of time.
And that’s not even getting into the interior illustrations by Red Lagoe. Damn do I love it when there are illustrations. They add a different angle, a reinterpretation of the experience through other eyes and hands, that clicks so well with me.
Every Woman Knows This is powerful as hell, only significantly hotter. I cannot recommend enough. Even though “Distress Call” had me yelling loudly in bed. Fucking dark, cold, claustrophobic anxiety inducing asshole of a story that I abjectly enjoyed.
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