As a feminist, I am supposed to appreciate The Awakening, a novella about protagonist Edna Pontellier's earnest desire for a life independent of her husband and children and the responsibilities and social constrictions associated with being a wife and mother. But I do not.
I love reading about women who completely defy societal expectations, but I absolutely hate reading about women who conform and then change their minds after they've gotten married and given birth. It is shitty to abandon your children and ignore your responsibility to them -- this applies to both mothers and fathers in equal measure. Edna does not have to be a likable character in order to be a compelling heroine, but I don't even find her mildly interesting. Her inner life seems utterly preoccupied by very minute, almost petty concerns that for her (or more likely Kate Chopin, her creator), symbolize some greater struggle against her husband and societal expectations; but for me, these fall completely flat. I'm also immensely disappointed that she makes almost no serious attempt to improve her situation -- she has some emotional and physical affairs that are ultimately not fulfilling, and she comes to the realization that there are only two roles for women in society -- wife and mother or hermit -- and decides the only thing left to do is commit suicide, which in her case feels so utterly cowardly. And from a literary standpoint, the book ends when it could just be getting started.
It's considered an early and essential feminist text and it's incredibly short, so I guess just read it and get it over with and move on with your life, preferably with help from Virginia Woolf, my author of choice for books about women who feel isolated and struggle with identity issues.
Books I Can't Even (apologies for the use of Internet cliches) is a recurring post on books I absolutely could not finish, usually after several attempts.
