Transgenerational Trauma Tackled Two Ways

I love a happy ending. Often found in detective, cozy mystery, police procedural, and most doggedly romance, it’s one of the most comforting genre conventions. But not everyone prefers a guaranteed happy ending. For some, the comfort read doesn’t need to be comfortable at all.

In thinking about this phenomenon, I’ve come to the conclusion that sometimes seeing a situation depicted in its starkly painful and unpleasant reality is soothing because it helps us feel seen. Sometimes it hurts to see a story tied up neatly in a bright bow when our real life is messy and unfinished even as we’re forced to carry on.

In the month of January, I read a book that refused to turn away from the bleak realities faced by generations of women. An unrelenting load—oppression, domestic violence, impossible expectations—that many women cannot fully escape is at the center of A Woman Is No Man by Palestinian author Etaf Rum. The book follows a mother and daughter in two timelines as they each try to escape the shackles of a misogynistic culture and autocratic home life. While the story touches on the ways the family’s strongly entrenched customs and gender roles negatively affect all members of the family, it’s the women who have to sacrifice the most in order to navigate the world.

In the end, each generation of women does their best with varying degrees of success. And, even though there is a hopefulness in seeing the incremental growth from one generation to the next, there is a heaviness to the story that lingers on my heart days later. It was a difficult read for me, but effective in showing me and making me feel a terrible part of life while I was still safe in my own home. It’s a privilege to learn in such a way, both engaged enough to connect with an experience that is foreign to me and removed enough to shield myself from the worst of its effects.

These two books deal with transgenerational trauma in two ways: realistic and speculative

Another of my recent reads also deals with transgenerational trauma and the ways parental figures attempt to protect their wards in ways that sometimes cause harm. However, The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna takes a completely different approach. It has speculative elements that expand possibilities while leaning into the ridiculous and humorous to soften the blows of the isolation, exclusion, and exploitation tackled by the character development and plot twists.

The book pulled on my heartstrings, but I could choose when to delve deeper into the characters’ traumatic experiences and when to stick to the surface level of the story’s cozy vibe. Unsurprisingly, I found the reading experience much more enjoyable. I found myself discussing some of the deeper issues of my own initiative, but I did wonder how many readers would opt to focus on the fun and swoony bits.

In the end, I don’t believe it matters much. The serious aspects of the book are woven into the cloth from which it’s constructed. It’s just a matter of how you prefer to engage with those features of the story, but they can’t be completely avoided.

As a reader, I’m glad to have the options and choices available. As a writer, I am equally enthusiastic for a full toolbox to draw from and one day master. The magic of stories exists in all the shades of dark and light. Whether you prefer your unflinching realism with a side of hope or your hope with a core of authenticity, you can have it. I, for one, am grateful for it.