Earnest puts his head on her shoulder and she smooths his wild, white hair. He asks if the women are devils.
No, says Agata, we are your friends.
He asks if the women are plotting to burn down his barn.
No, Ernie, says Agata, there's no plot, we're only women talking.
As author Miriam Toews explains in a brief foreward, Women Talking is based on real events: Between 2005 and 2009, the women and girls in a Bolivian Mennonite colony were waking up in the morning, sore and bleeding, suffering the aftereffects of rape that they couldn't remember. After the women were repeatedly accused of lying, of consorting with demons, of receiving punishment straight from God Himself for their sins, it was eventually discovered that eight of the colony's men had been drugging the women with animal anesthetic and raping them as they lay unconscious. As Toews explains, “Women Talking is both a reaction through fiction to these true-life events, and an act of female imagination.” Raised a Mennonite herself, Toews has an insider's perspective on the environment in which these attacks occurred, and in our #MeToo moment, it feels imperative to add the voices of those women living in cloistered paternalistic societies; those women who have never been educated, granted individual rights, or asked for their consent about anything. Toews is such an interesting writer, and with an engaging format, glints of humour, and room for these women to discuss all sides of their situation, she has created a remarkably nuanced novel out of clearly evil events.
Salome's youngest daughter, Miep, was violated by the men on two or possibly three different occasions, but Peters denied medical treatment for Miep, who is three years of age, on the grounds that the doctor would gossip about the colony and that the people would become aware of the attacks and the whole incident would be blown out of proportion.Not only have the women of the Molotschna Colony been suffering these physical attacks – and disbelieved when they complained about them – but Peters, their bishop, has decreed that the women must forgive their rapists or risk being barred from heaven themselves. As none of the women have been taught to read or write (and as the Plautdietsch that they speak has no written language), a committee of eight has asked a recently returned member (the son of excommunicated members, he is considered effeminate because of his learning and his reluctance to gut a pig; therefore no threat to the womenfolk) to transcribe the minutes of their meeting. This format allows for this man, August, to not only attempt to record every word spoken by the women, but also to add factual background to their statements, and to respectfully interject with information that the women might need about the outside world. For it is the unknown outside world that most concerns the women: After their rapists were arrested, the other men of Molotschna have gone to the city to secure their bail (the men are needed, after all, to work in the fields), and while they are gone, the women have two days to decide what their response will be to their return and Peters' insistence on forgiveness: Do nothing, stay and fight, or leave. The vast majority of the colony's women are in the “do nothing” camp (only eight of the hundred+ concerned have even shown up for the secret meeting), and those that do gather in a senile old man's hayloft have enough variance in their ideas about love and faith and obedience to provide a lively and thought-provoking debate.
We are women without a voice, Ona states calmly. We are women out of time and place, without even the language of the country we reside in. We are Mennonites without a homeland. We have nothing to return to, and even the animals of Molotschna are safer in their homes than we women are. All we women have are our dreams – so of course we are dreamers.Uneducated doesn't mean unintelligent, and these women display deep thinking, deep feeling, and deep faith. They don't trust the repentance of their rapists, and have lost trust in Peters' ability to interpret the Bible that they are unable to read for themselves, but they know that it's “not all men” who commit these crimes, and even discuss the fact that it's the power structure of their community that raises boys to believe that they should have unfettered power over women; in a way, they are victims of that power structure, too. Through it all, these women are pious Mennonites and want for their actions to please their God – and the argument can be made that each of the three options (do nothing, stay and fight, or leave) is God's will – and although the debate can get contentious, and the disparity of their ages and temperaments makes for competing desires, the women are always willing to join hands in hymn and sweet harmony. It does seem strange that the narrator of Women Talking is actually a man (the women could have had their debate without anyone taking the minutes), but as their scribe, August doesn't steer the debate (only adding his asides in the transcription to make this a complete history); and as an ally who has been abroad, he gives the women information that might grant them perspective or to recognise local hypocrisy. As “an act of female imagination” in response to real-life events, Toews has given a big voice to a small community; there is an essentiality to this novel.
The 2018 Governor General's Literary Award for English-language Fiction Finalists:
Zolitude by Paige Coope
Beirut Hellfire Society by Rawi Hage
The Red Word by Sarah Henstra
Women Talking by Miriam Toews
Jonny Appleseed by Joshua Whitehead
* Won by The Red Word. I think the GGs picked a really strong list this year (I'm fairly shocked that they were the only jury to recognise Women Talking) and I am pleased that Henstra won.