For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had the habit of skipping ahead to read a book’s ending first. As a child, I didn’t quite understand why, but as an adult, I now see it as part of my OCD. I know that my discomfort with uncertainty is just one way I try to make reading feel safe and enjoyable—especially since real life is full of unknowns! When I’m reading for fun, I find it comforting to know how things will end, so I tend to avoid suspense. I understand this may seem unusual, and I completely respect those who prefer a different approach. This is simply what works for me, and I don’t expect others to read the same way. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve also chosen to avoid topics involving cruelty or violence toward people or animals, and I often check plot summaries to decide whether there’s anything I might want to skip. I share this background because it influenced how I read Yesteryear: I didn’t read it start to finish or in order. If my reading style isn’t for you, please know I mean no offense—I welcome you to take a break and come back whenever you’d like.
With that context in mind, Yesteryear is a satirical tale of a “trad” wife living on a ranch in Idaho with her husband, the son of a conservative Republican politician, hoping to create a family dynasty. Her social media empire blends influences reminiscent of Ballerina Farm and what Ruby Franke had before her downfall. My interest in this book and its premise stems from having spent time around traditional, conservative families during my childhood, as well as following the Ruby Franke story in the news. This personal context made me particularly curious about how the book would portray the difficult situations children can face when their lives are commercialized. Keeping my background in mind, I approached the story with openness and curiosity, eager to see how my own experiences might connect with the novel’s themes.
Continuing with that perspective, when I watched the documentary about the Franke family and the extensive interviews with her ex-husband, I was left with the feeling that he was so cowardly and conflict-avoidant that he sacrificed the well-being of his children and family for so long to avoid what he thought might be worse conflicts with Ruby and the “counselor” they had hired. While reading the book, these impressions remained with me, and I kept wondering where the father was in protecting, raising, and caring for his own children. He didn’t seem to be very interested in his own family. I wondered if Caleb didn’t interfere at all because he was afraid of his wife. I found this to be disgusting, Caleb’s first inaction, then later lack of care.
Further building on my need to relate to characters, I have a strong internal sense of right and wrong. Whether my values are always correct—or how well I live up to them—is another matter. Still, when reading fiction, it’s important that the characters’ actions and beliefs feel close enough to my own experiences or emotions for me to connect with the story. For example, I kept finding characters whom I wanted to spend more time with, like the main character’s mother, whose backstory was only hinted at. I was particularly fascinated by Natalite Heller Mills, who admits to leaving her husband and raising her two daughters on her own, and who I found compelling. Even though the reader learns that she lied to her daughters about their father being dead, she is still portrayed as a loving and supportive mother throughout the book. I would have liked the book to spend more time on her motivations, experiences, and why she felt she needed to take the actions she did. I also had many questions regarding why their father didn’t reappear. I would have expected legal filings or some kind of action to result in visitation, not for him to simply vanish as if he had in fact died, as his wife stated.
I knew this book was a satire of the “trad wife” movement on social media, but what I was hoping for throughout the reading was for one of the parents to realize the damage commodifying their family life, specifically their children, was having and to decide to take their lives off of social media. I kept thinking that would take away the performative aspect of what so many people find problematic about “trad wifeing” on the internet, and that it would provide an interesting insight into how the family navigated the fallout as they learned to live without seeking the approval and attention of others. I also thought it would have been very appealing for the father of the family to decide he needs to protect his children and insist that his wife stop using them to boost her social media empire. These were all ideas I had before starting the book. Once I started reading, I knew no such event would occur.
I was met with plenty of mocking of evangelical conservative Christianity. The narrator spent a lot of time talking to God, thinking about what God would want, and judging others for not living up to God’s standards. She didn’t seem very well-versed in theology, and I imagine that was part of the satire. As someone who grew up in the Bible belt and is still a practicing Christian, I felt that the author portrayed people of faith as incapable of independent thought and cruel to those who think differently. Throughout the book, when I hoped for a complex portrayal of a reality or belief system, I felt I was met with caricatures. When there were opportunities to surprise the reader with twists on gender and religious dynamics, I felt that these were played to the extreme. Having grown up with many conservative Christians, I know that very few people actually live in extremes. Those who cling tightly to their faith often struggle with changing social and political climates, which can seem to change at warp speed. I believe most who practice Christianity want to treat others with dignity and respect and honor their faith.
Instead of leaving the novel, wanting to laugh at the narrator thinking how ridiculous the “trad wife” lifestyle is, I was left wondering if the narrator was suffering from schizoid personality disorder or some other mental illness. I was taken back to my reading of Tara Westover’s memoir “Education,” where she discusses her upbringing and, in interviews to promote the book, references her belief that her father suffered from bipolar disorder. In that book, she tells how her family didn’t believe in traditional medicine. From the beginning of the book, I wondered which medications and therapies the narrator most needed. Instead of someone whom I could laugh at, I saw someone who needed help and who needed to be taken away from vulnerable children. I’m not sure if the author’s goal was to connect social media influencers who promote the “trad wife” lifestyle to mental illness, but that was what I saw in this book, not what I am saying I see in all promoters of traditional gender roles. Instead of finding the book satirical or funny, I found it distressing.
My opinion is that the best way to discuss how not working outside the home in any capacity can negatively affect women and their children is to approach the conversation with humility and an openness to listening. Approaching anyone one hopes to convince in a mocking or condescending tone can universally guarantee that the person will instead cling to their original point of view and be unopen to any persuasion. A perspective the author failed to take into consideration is stay-at-home mothers or women who want to be “traditional” wives, and/or mothers who do attain education and a skill set before stepping out of the workforce. My own mother stayed at home for a decade, having worked for almost a decade as a nurse in various capacities before stepping out of the paid workforce to be a stay-at-home mom. She had attended college, earned a four-year degree, and had a successful career before deciding to stay home and homeschool her three children. My mom continued to maintain her own identity, writing a local column, volunteering, and, at one point, teaching the Red Cross Babysitter Training course. Looking back, I admire how she contributed to our community and honed new skills while ensuring my siblings and I were taken care. One of my favorite memories was her teaching a class of other homeschool children about the origins of the different ingredients in a gingerbread cookie, based on a book. We learned about the geography and the explorers who first brought those ingredients back to Europe.
I honestly recoiled at the portrayal of a Christian woman who is raising children. I left my reading of the portions of the book I did consume, saddened, feeling as though an opportunity for reflection and dialogue about a whole group of people had been missed. My relationship to my faith is so private, so I don’t write too much about my thoughts on the Bible and feminity and how it relates to leadership. What I am comfortable saying is that the strong leaders I see in my faith communities now are nothing like the narrator of Yesteryear.
Living on the Spectrum 
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