WOMEN SHOULD BE READ

With each issue of Foreword, our bottom line is that we are excited about every book that we cover. We develop infatuations with titles during the selection process, assign books to their ideal reviewers with a sense of anticipation, and wait with bated breath to hear what they thought of the books in full. Issues of the magazine themselves are often completed months after our first introduction to titles; revisiting books that we haven’t held in hand for a while is a treat in and of itself. But as I surveyed this issue in its final form, a feeling beyond the usual euphoria arose; I had a prickling, uneasy sensation that the balance was off. Were there too many women’s stories in this edition?

It was a worry that belonged less to me than to the zeitgeist of a fast changing culture. I should have known better, especially with multiple degrees in feminist theology, but still: sometimes patriarchal notions seep in, fed by a culture not entirely happy about shifting power structures. I quickly squelched that dissident voice and reminded myself of the words of the immortal Ruth Bader Ginsburg, whose loss is fresh: that no one ever asks such questions about the prominence of men. How many women on the Supreme Court would be enough? Nine. How many women’s voices deserve to be heard? All.

We select books in good faith, considering what will meet audience needs—what hungry readers should not miss, what will do well for libraries’ circulation stats, what will catch a reader’s eye on a bookstore shelf. In the case of this issue, women’s stories were a frequent answer. What’s not to be excited about?

And what wonderful stories! Look to Butter Honey Pig

Bread and The Immortals in our literary fiction feature for pictures of unapologetic, self-possessed womanhood, celebrated in creative forms. Look to

Lyrebird and The Objects that Remain among our covered memoirs to see examples of women surviving the impossible with grace and ferocity. Womanhood is even a point of delight in our nature feature, wherein Julia Zarankin reclaims her moxie by taking up birding, and wherein the matriarchal nature of elephant societies becomes a means by which to generate empathy for an endangered species.

This has been a nerve-testing year, a time in which our footing never feels as sure as what we deserve. Yet so much of what we’ve read, and so much of what is still possible, gives us cause for wonder. We are as thrilled to introduce these books to you as we are enthusiastic for the next chapters they represent—times in which all voices, we hope, will be given room to be heard.