MY DREADFUL BODY, five-star novella debunking misogyny's lies

MY DREADFUL BODY
EGANA DJABBAROVA (tr. Lisa C. Hayden)
New Vessel Press (non-affiliate Bookshop.org link)
$17.95 all editions, available now

Rating: 5* of five

The Publisher Says: A dazzling debut novel about a young woman's vexed coming of age in a traditional Azerbaijani community in Russia, grappling under the weight of Muslim patriarchal norms and a debilitating neurological condition.

The mysterious affliction leaves her unable to control her muscles, plagued by pain and speech disorders, defying diagnosis. Addressing each body part with the scrupulousness of a medical researcher, the narrator explores memories, traditions, and taboos related to her physical self. In the process, a woman once destined for the role of a beautiful marriageable daughter comes to be perceived as damaged goods.

With verbal elegance and poetic power, Egana Djabbarova unveils a hidden world in which illness unexpectedly facilitates her liberation.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.

My Review: Poetically laconic, elegantly simple, maximally affecting prose telling a woman's life of contradictions in identity. For a woman in Azeri culture, her body defines her. It is female therefore these are her options, this set of rules apply to her. Then along comes Egana, like the author's name...probably like the author. She yearns not to be defined by her body, and paradoxically freed by having a woman's body defined by a painful, disabling illness called dystonia blends both those realities.

Eleven body parts define the course of this narrative, under 150pp in length, and still eternal. It's Egana coming to terms with patriarchy and its religious, its community, its intimate controls over women. This is a fierce and outraged shout in the face of a god and a culture that insists femaleness has no agency, can only exist in relation, in submission, to masculine needs and wants. Egana doesn't shout her rage, she trumpets her horrible escape from the unkind fate of a life spent in drudgery and servitude...a decidedly mixed blessing, but a blessing she catalogs in careful, intimate detail. This is what makes this read so different from US feminist fiction: It prescribes no path to follow, defines no road not taken or taken by stricture. Egana has no say in her desirable opting-out from Womanhood's duties as prescribed by her culture. It was wished on her by a bodily dysfunction, a painful affliction; but it serves as a space separate from her culture's expectations so is a vantage point from which to observe the power of normative expectation. It is a meditation and an examination, not a prescription for others to follow.

Possibly the most powerful strand in the tight, compact story for my disabled-by-pain self was not related to that shared experience but the equally defining quality of being in a cultural diaspora. A Muslim and an Azeri in Russia, the colonial power that defined her family's country's course in the modern world telling the story of her intimate estrangement from that community was perhaps the least expected source of empathy and pathos in my read of the story. I felt as though I was fully in Egana's life when I realized how alienated from her Othered cultural reality...doubly, triply Othered by religion, sex, and culture.

It's astonishing how deep this experience of identification was as I considered my own alienation from US culture with its youth-worship, its heteronormativity, its serious lack of interest in including the disabled or the chronically ill. It lifted the read into five-star territory because it managed this feat without once telling me how terrible Egana's fate was. I got to experience her life with her, in her words, grounded in her own body...each discussed part of which I also possess. Nothing in Egana's "dreadful" body is unique to femaleness. It is female because she is a woman. It is discussed as a woman's body in relation to every other cultural reality only because she is a woman.

If you can think of a better way to point up the sheer idiocy of misogyny, its illogic and its sadism, I encourage you strongly to write about it. You'll be a bestseller in no time at all.

As My Dreadful Body should be.