I forget where I heard about Woman on the Edge of Time by Marge Piercy, but as its cover proclaims it is “the classic feminist novel” and it’s speculative fiction written a woman, it’s not hard to see why I added it to my wishlist at some point.

This is quite a dark, grim, even shocking, book. And it’s also a vision of a hopeful, more equal future. Or is it?

In 1970s New York City, middle-aged Connie tries to stand up to her niece’s abusive pimp and he has her committed to a mental institution. Conditions there are pretty bleak and no-one listens to her, or any other patient – particularly people of colour. Connie is Hispanic, which means she isn’t treated quite as badly as Black patients but she is still “othered” by the doctors, spoken of as more animal than human. What it comes down to is these patients are all poor, and therefore expendable. And she is also a woman, while the pimp is a man. Connie’s one relief from her awful situation is her ability to contact a community in the far future.

Connie’s past is a sad downward slide. She has a college diploma. She had a man she loved and a child. But a horrible set of circumstances mean both her man and her child are now dead. She is, understandably, not in a great place mentally. She drinks a lot. But she has a life, a home, a niece to give her a semblance of family. Her incarceration is clearly unjust and yet everyone around her immediately follows the pimp’s claim that she is dangerously violent.

“So many years had run over her since then, he might not recognize her, he might confuse her with some other year’s hot Latin secretary. The anger of the weak never goes away, Professor, it just gets a little mouldy. It moulds like a beautiful blue cheese in the dark, growing stronger and more interesting. The poor and the weak die with all their anger intact and probably those angers go on growing in the dark of the grave like the hair and the nails.”

Piercy’s vision of the future is a fascinating one, and deeply feminist. Connie reaches out in her mind to a person called Luciente, who lives in a small Massachusetts community called Matapoisett in 2137. Luciente’s speech seems oddly stilted at first but it becomes clear this is a depiction of how English might evolve. Most notably, people aren’t referred to by gender, they all use the non-gendered pronoun “per”. All parents are mothers, and all children are raised by three mothers, none of whom are directly biologically related.

To me, Matapoisett is near-idyllic. The community and its neighbours all think deeply about the environment and resources. They cycle or use a form of futuristic public transport. In one scene their councils debate ways to increase the yield of a piece of farmland without depleting the water table. Which sounds dull but to me was a perfect depiction of thoughtfulness. They believe in lifelong learning; have great respect for Indigenous knowledge and culture; don’t have money but instead barter. They have few personal belongings, most things are shared or borrowed. They celebrate arts and science equally. They don’t have hang-ups about nudity or sex. Orientation is fluid, romantic jealousy is frowned on. I would honestly struggle to imagine somewhere more perfect.

But Connie doesn’t seem to agree. She likes the racial variety in Matapoisett, the gender equality, the blend of cultures and languages and arts. She is less keen on the community child-raising, the apparently casual nature of most sex, the public nudity.

Connie is heavily sedated. She has almost no hope, almost nothing to live for. So it would be entirely understandable for her to create an imaginary world where everyone is kind and generous. But why would she add to that future details that she doesn’t fully agree with? Could she really be time travelling?

Connie’s situation in the asylum gets ever darker and more desperate. She’s selected for an experimental treatment that both terrifies her and offers hope. Not because she thinks the treatment will help her, but it involves being moved to a fancier, less secure hospital. She sees running away as her only way out.

This is not an easy read. What Connie experiences is tough and Piercy does not flinch from depicting all of it. Even her future visions get darker over time. But I got so much from reading this and dearly want to read more Piercy. I immediately sought out a small press that has a couple of her novels and bought the ebooks. She’s still going strong at 88, writing a blog filled with feminism and politics as well as the silly minutiae of daily life. I’m a little sad I’ve only just discovered her but also grateful there is plenty of her work for me to explore in years to come.

First published in 1976.

Source: birthday present from my Dad.