Patriarchal culture has imposed ideals of meekness, selfless service, and humility on women for centuries, portraying them as domestic angels, sweetness under subjugation. The heroines of Helen Lewis are nothing like that. Their names have been surrounded by scandals. They have been imprisoned, stoned, and in modern times—since morals have softened—mocked.
Complex, intolerant, uncomfortable, and egocentric, sometimes aggressive, sometimes funny—originals, eccentrics, upstarts—they articulated implicit problems and demonstrated the abnormality of the usual. They broke stereotypes, forced society to re-examine gender conventions, and changed lifestyles, legal norms, and state institutions—in the interests of everyone else. The cool pedantry of an archival historian and the honesty of an investigative journalist, an analytical mind, warm empathy, and a willingness to recognize the unpleasant truth about their heroines allowed Helen Lewis to write a sober, insightful, bitter, joyful, and fearless history of feminism, its victories and failures. Without pathos or resentment, she tells how half of humanity fought for the right to control their bodies and voices, their time and incomes, the right to make mistakes and correct them, the right to be imperfect—to be human.