I have to say, it is a relief to read about a woman who is struggling with her desire to be single as opposed to the struggle of finding and keeping a partner. This isn't about how the writer can't find a husband or about how desirable she is or isn't. It's about her identifying and introducing us to the "Spinster"- a single unmarried woman past a certain age (my definition). Along the way Kate Bolick introduces us to other single writers she finds along her journey. Without her mother to share her struggle with, she finds a conversation with these writers/women. Some I was introduced to for the first time.

I really enjoyed this book. It's great if you are not already knowledgeable of the many great female writers out there. A good stepping stone to new voices! I also appreciated Kate's journe, because I myself am currently in the category of "Spinster", or, preferably, a term I loved that Kate uses: "ambiguous woman" (the scholar Carolyn Heilbrun's wonderful term for those who choose not to center their lives around a man). ( )

I was intrigued by the idea of a book about a woman, similar to my age, who has embraced 'spinster' hood and I loved Kate Bolick's telling of her experiences and thoughts about what it means to take on such a label. What I found sometimes laborious to get through was her extensive research and telling of the women in history who she was inspired and fascinated with. Although interesting, I found myself drifting from the stories of these women because the detail was so rich. In that respect, her writing is rich, eloquent and intelligent and I think it's an original and wonderful book. ( )

Ugh, I loved this!! I listened to the audiobook in one day at 2x speed. Bolick does a great job of reading her own work. I was looking for books similar to Deborah Levy's Real Estate and recommended Spinster by StoryGraph. They're different in style and format, but they're both about women navigating and enjoying their independence in a society that likes to remind them they should be prioritizing romantic love, relationships, and marriage.

Bolick does this by exploring the lives of five "spinster" writers who awakened a sort of self-understanding for her. I'd only ever heard of Edith Wharton, but I'm excited to check out the others. In memoir, I really appreciate it when the author takes time to educate you about history while also entertaining you with stories of their own life. And Bolick does this expertly. She does a deep dive on the five writers and the history of spinsterhood while also taking us through the ups and downs of her 20s and 30s. The story of her mother made me cry, the tales of her dating life in NYC made me laugh, and all of her career/love angst was incredibly relatable.

Her "awakenings" also gave me language for what I've been seeking out lately. I recently asked a librarian to recommend fiction books about competent, confident older women who were dealing with issues unrelated to romance and marriage. She managed it, but said it was "very tricky." There's a dearth of this lit or it doesn't get hyped. But, now I know what to call it: spinster lit. Bolick relied on her five chosen writers, in part because she could no longer turn to her mother for advice after her passing. And now, a year after my father's passing, I can see that I've been doing much the same in seeking out books, both fiction and non-fiction, about people older and a little wiser than me.

Like Bolick says early on in this one, sometimes the right book finds you at the right time. And this was one for me. I borrowed it on whim from the library and I'm excited to purchase a copy for my shelves so I can read it again more closely. ( )

An unresolved look at being coupled but not married. I think we need a book about the un-fairytale so that less women will grow up with the Cinderella syndrome. ( )

This was not quite the book I thought it was going to be. That's not to say it isn't good; it's left me with much to think about, but ultimately I was hoping for something slightly different.

Based on the title and summary, I was expecting a book about a woman who made the conscious choice to live her own life, one that embraced the solitude she craved and was the result of her own conscious will and choices.

What I got was a woman who was pretty sure she wanted a life of her own making, but lacked the self-awareness to recognise that pretty much every one of her choices were aimed at making sure she was never alone. By her own admission, in the 10+ years she lived in NYC chasing a solitary life, she was never alone. When she wasn't in a relationship, she dated constantly, and filled her nights with nonstop socialising. The few attempts she chronicles here at true solitude never last more than 2 weeks (and those two weeks had several "social" episodes).

What kept me reading was the similarity in life experiences Bolick and I shared - generally speaking. After long term monogamous relationships in our 20's, we discovered independence in our 30's and, I think, shared similar questions concerning a life of one's own and what that meant. To a point. We diverge philosophically, however, in several places.

Now, this is, of course, just my opinion and based on my life experiences, which, it goes without saying, are not everyone's. But having said that, her premise from the beginning is flawed:

"Whom to marry, and when will it happen–these two questions define every woman's existence, regardless of where she was raised or what religion she does or doesn't practice."

No they don't. They've never defined mine, anyway.

"Eventually, whether you choose or are chosen, joyously accept or grudgingly resist, you take the plunge.

You are born, you grow up, you become a wife."

Fatalistic much?

"But what if it wasn't this way?

What if a girl grew up like a boy, with marriage an abstract, someday thought, a thing to think about when she became an adult, a thing she could do, or not do, depending?

What would that look and feel like?"

Uh, it would look like me, and I guess it would feel pretty good? I don't have anything else to compare it to, but I'm happy to have not had the constriction.

I never heard my mother say "when you get married" or "when you have kids". She constantly told me I could be whatever I wanted, making suggestions like artist, or cartoonist (mom goggles), but never once mentioned marriage. The only comment she ever made about children, she only made once "If you're going to have any kids, just have them before I die so I can meet them.". So I definitely grew up "like a boy". (nb: my parents were married over 50 years, setting a stupidly high bar for happiness.)

All of this to say that Bolick's assertions that all women of our generation are locked into this stultifying cultural expectation is false from the get-go. I understand that my mom may not have been the norm, but she wasn't a rarity either; my childhood wasn't special or unique.

Amidst all the navel-gazing, Bolick weaves the lives of 5 female authors that greatly influenced her journey to better self-awareness: Neith Boyce, Maeve Brennan, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Edna St. Vincent Millay and Edith Wharton. She examines their lives and uses what she learns about them to figure out what it is she's trying to do for herself. Self-analysis by literary analysis. The device works, and I enjoyed learning about these ground-breaking women, although I think she might have romanticised their lives a bit.

Bolick ties all of this, of course, to women's rights and feminism (although she rarely calls it feminism); it would be illogical to do anything else. This book, our lives, would not be possible without these women and others like themselves. But she takes it all a tiny step too far. She argues that this imperative to marry, to have kids, to avoid being alone, dying alone, is the solemn birthright of women. To which I say, that's a load of codswallop.

Of course there's an unarticulated expectation for men to marry (an unmarried woman may be called a spinster, but an unmarried man has his sexuality questioned), and of course they feel this. In most of the relationships around me, it's the men who have wanted to start families first, who are eager to become fathers, while simultaneously worrying that their lives will end if they do. And I don't think anybody wants to die alone or remain unloved, or end up on the streets. These are not gender specific worries, or desires, or fears, and by making them so, she perpetuates the separation that feminists fight so hard against.

Now, after sounding like I'm thoroughly bashing her efforts, I'm going to switch directions and say this is a very well written book. There was more in here to agree with than disagree, once beyond the basic premise itself, and the author is refreshingly honest with both herself and the reader. She spends a lot of time looking in the mirror and she doesn't waste a lot of her or the reader's time rationalising her decisions or her actions. You get the sense at the end that the journey wasn't in vain, and that perhaps she's finally stood still long enough to embrace solitude and really make a life of her own. ( )