This novel by Bonnie Garmus was quite a journey, both for me and for the protagonist, Elizabeth Zott. The story was filled with extremes: privilege and gatekeeping, luck and misfortune, hatred and love, violence and affection, intelligence and stupidity, wisdom and naivete, celebration and tragedy.

We follow Elizabeth as she weathers these storms while pursuing a career as a research chemist in the 50s and 60s. As she faces roadblock after roadblock thrown across her path by misogynists, she travels the heroine’s journey that women in STEM know all to well, from naive to hopeful to bitter to cynical to despairing. In the end, she finds the strength to recommit to herself and to her research.

Elizabeth is always confident in her intellect and skills and values. But what she learns to do is reconcile her confidence with an entrenched status quo she finds unacceptable. She learns how to find allies and work with them to outsmart the system. I sometimes found myself frustrated with her decisions, but I know this is because I did not have to experience what she did. It wasn’t until I finished the book and looked back at my highlights that I realized how much she grew as a person over the course of the story.

The pain and suffering of motherhood

Among my favorite parts of the book are the Garmus’s depictions of the trials and tribulations of rowing and pregnancy/early motherhood, which come together in the character of Dr. Mason, an obstetrician who rows with Elizabeth. Garmus goes beyond morning sickness and unsolicited advice from strangers, digging deeper into the physical and emotional consequences of pregnancy and parenthood.

Dr. Mason is shocked to hear that Elizabeth has been erging up to 10,000 meters a day at home (Erg is short for ergometer, or rowing machine, used by rowers to train when they can’t be on the water. Rowers have a love/mostly hate relationship with the erg due to associated pain and suffering [see below]. Rowing 10K can take around 45 minutes to 1 hour, depending on how much pain and suffering you choose to endure.).

Dr. Mason connects the pain and suffering of rowing with childbirth:

“It’s just that I’ve never heard of anyone erging on purpose. Especially not a pregnant woman. Although now that I think about it, erging is good preparation for childbirth. In terms of suffering, I mean. Actually, both pain and suffering.”

Chapter 15: Unsolicited Advice, page 129

When Elizabeth expresses doubts about her capacity and willingness to be a mother, and her guilt over these feelings, Dr. Mason does his best to validate her emotions.

“Not every woman wants to be a mother,” he agreed, surprising her. “more to the point, not every woman should be.” He grimaced as if thinking of someone in particular. “Still, I’m surprised by how many women sign up for motherhood considering how difficult pregnancy can be–morning sickness, stretch marks, death. Again, you’re fine,” he added quickly, taking in her horrified face. “It’s just that we tend to treat pregnancy as the most common condition in the world–as ordinary as stubbing a toe–when the truth is, it’s like getting hit by a truck. Although obviously a truck causes less damage.”

Chapter 15: Unsolicited Advice, page 130

And after the baby comes, we see Elizabeth face the reality of caring for a newborn:

Dr. Mason had warned her that infants were hard work, but this wasn’t work: it was indenture. The tiny tyrant was no less demanding than Nero; no less insane that King Ludwig. And the crying. It made her feel inadequate. Worse, it raised the possibility that her daughter might not like her. Already.

Chapter 17: Harriet Sloane, page 139

While Elizabeth’s pregnancy and early motherhood journey take up only a small part of the story, Garmus managed to make me feel seen and respected as a mother. I especially appreciated that this respect was communicated through a male OB who actually seems to get it.

Mid-century women in science

As a female scientist, I recognize the value of representation of women, especially women of color, as scientists in our culture. And not just what they accomplish but experiences, emotions, values, and identities. That being said, it felt like Garmus tried to do this by throwing every example of sexism, discrimination, microaggressions, harassment, and assault she could think of. As if she thought the only way the reader would acknowledge these problems existed was if all the bad things happened to a single person.

Each of the trials Elizabeth faces feels realistic and believable as something that could happen to a woman in the workplace, both then and now. But I think the use of extreme tragedy as a plot device dose a disservice to all the women in STEM, then and now, that managed to earn PhDs and land research positions despite the odds. It also does a disservice to all the women in STEM, then and now, who did not endure what Elizabeth did but were still forced out of research careers because they did not benefit from her privileges. And I worry that setting this kind of story 60 years ago lets the modern scientific community off the hook. Yes, the oppression and violence is not always as extreme today. But many of the underlying systemic problems persist and regularly rear their heads.

Many of the characters the author created, men and women, felt relatable and three dimensional. I appreciated how they learned and grew as they had to confront everything Elizabeth went through and try to reconcile it with their values and their decisions.

However, I did not like how the most of the male chemists are portrayed. They seem to be mostly incompetent idiots who don’t understand lower division college chemistry and don’t deserve their positions in any sense of the word. They seem to rely entirely on Elizabeth to make any progress on their research, even going so far to pay her in cash for her advice after she is fired. Of course, male scientists like that existed and still exist today, but they are outliers. Most men (and people of all genders!) in science are not brilliant geniuses but also not ignorant and incompetent. Even though the patriarchy continues to grant privileges to white men at every step of their careers, there is a limit to how much incompetence it will ignore.

The problem most women scientists face, then and now, is not that they don’t have jobs despite being ten times smarter and more capable than the men. On average, women are just as smart and just as capable. The real problem is that no matter how smart and capable they are, they continue to face inequity. Does Elizabeth really need to be a super genius for us to believe she deserves the same respect her male colleagues receive? If Elizabeth were closer to the middle of the pack, would she not deserve a research position? Do all the men have to be idiots for us to be angry that they are given support while Elizabeth is not?

Not your average cooking show

Despite how I felt about the portrayal of gender in most of the book, the ending left me feeling inspired and empowered. As the host of an afternoon cooking show (long story), Elizabeth uses her platform to demand respect for women and all the grueling, unappreciated, unpaid labor they do inside the home. She also demands respect for the intelligence, skills, and identities women have outside the home. Elizabeth’s speech at the end of her final episode on the cooking show made me believe (even if just for a minute) that I can find the strength and courage to recommit to myself and to my ambitions:

“Whenever you start doubting yourself, whenever you feel afraid, just remember. Courage is the root of change–and change is what we’re chemically designed to do. So when you wake up tomorrow, make this pledge. No more holding yourself back. No more subscribing to others’ opinions of what you can and cannot achieve. And no more allowing anyone to pigeonhole you into useless categories of sex, race, economic status, and religion. Do not allow your talents to lie dormant, ladies. Design your own future. When you go home today, ask yourself what you will change. And then get started.”

Chapter 41: Recommit, page 360

Just for fun

The motto/tagline of Hastings Research Institute is an amusing parody of nonprofit markher. “more to the point, not every woman should be.” He grimaced as if thinking of someone in particular. “Still, I’m surprised by how many women sign up for motherhood considering how difficult pregnancy can be–morning sickness, stretch marks, death. Again, you’re fine,” he added quickly, taking in her horrified face. “It’s just that we tend to treat pregnancy as the most common condition in the world–aseting slogans: “Where Groundbreaking Research Breaks Ground”

Elizabeth’s strong opinions on literary criticism:

She’d just finished telling Six-Thirty [her dog] that fiction was problematic. People were always insisting they knew what it meant, even if the writer hadn’t meant that at all, and even if what they thought it meant had no actual meaning. “Bovary’s a great example,” she said. “Here, where Emma licks her fingers? Some believe it signifies carnal lust; others think she just really liked the chicken. As for what Flaubert actually meant? No one cares.”

Chapter 17: Harriet Sloane, page 141