With a title suggesting its playful ambitions and its protagonist’s frustrations, Stockfelt’s impassioned debut spins a poignant, provocative narrative through the compelling voice of Virtue Lindström, a self-described “womanist” from Dominica who says “No, ovaries” when her partner, Daavid, discusses having “balls.” Virtue embarks on a transformative journey when she secures a scholarship for postgraduate studies in the U.K. The story begins with Virtue breastfeeding her second-born, Mandla, whose refusal to feed marks the first of the bouts with self-doubt Virtue will face as she charts an uncertain path through motherhood, cultural differences, and the challenges of life as a woman with children and states of “unhealth” building an academic career.
As Virtue faces the challenges of motherhood and an unsettling move to Sweden prompted by her Daavid's new job opportunity, Stockfelt skillfully shifts between Virtue's intimate first-person perspective and Daavid's viewpoint, revealing the complexity of their relationship with empathy and insight. Each perspective depicts touching hesitancy and some limitations of perspective when Daavid and Virtue navigate their marriage and one another’s feelings. When a medical consultation unveils a tumor pressing on Virtue’s pituitary gland, leading to imbalanced hormonal levels, the novel delves into Virtue's struggles with depression, self-harm, and the resulting impact on her relationship with Daavid.
In prose touched with grace and wisdom, Stockfelt explores themes of marriage, sexuality, and the intersections of unhealth, providing a multifaceted perspective on complex aspects of life and a potent critique of gendered ways of thinking and reacting. The shifting dynamics between Daavid and Virtue are a both revealing and emotionally jolting. Epigenesis or Serendipity? emerges as a beautiful and thought-provoking exploration of a woman’s journey, seamlessly blending reflection with an incisive examination of societal norms and expectations.
Takeaway: Intimate, incisive love story of a “womanist” Dominican academic.
Comparable Titles: Nicole Dennis-Benn’s Patsy, Yaa Gyasi’s Transcendent Kingdom.
Production grades
Cover: B
Design and typography: A-
Illustrations: N/A
Editing: A-
Marketing copy: A-
5 out of 5 stars (Verified Purchase)
I read Shawanda Stockfelt’s debut novel in one sitting, something I rarely can accomplish. I was sucked in from page one. Ambition, dreams, hard work, love, family. We all recognize and are drivento varying degrees by these aspects of life, navigating by giving focus to each element in turn, trying to find our bearings in life’s everchanging landscape. The road is seldom a straight one for any of us, but it usually leads forward. Until suddenly, it doesn’t. The main character, Virtue Lindström, crashes headlong into the proverbial wall. The novel conveys, in detailed and heart-wrenching terms, her attempts to find a way out of a prolonged, existential crisis in which her core sense of self falls literally under the knife.
5 out of 5 stars (Verified Purchase)
This is a searing, personal account of a woman facing life-threatening health challenges while raising two small children, pursuing the career she worked so hard for, and trying to maintain her loving marriage in a country where she doesn’t speak the language. The honesty and intimacy with which the story is told makes you feel like you are in deep conversation with one of your closest friends. Highly recommended.
5 out of 5 stars (Verified Purchase)
The personal is the political, the old saying goes, but this book shows how much the converse holds true as well: the political is the personal, and the personal goes very deep, even as the self is bothered (to allude to the title of a book of musings published, in the real world, a few months ago by the main character in this book). This is an amazing, searing work of autofiction. Autofiction because the writing is part of the point, part of who Virtue Lindström is. And who is she if not a writer like the author, Shawanda Stockfelt, who is, in Virtue the writer that she is? Every page is stylistically gripping, from the haunting poems that frame the book’s sections to the intensities of solitude (the personal) as the solitary self reflects on her relation to the others in her life: children, parents, cultures, countries, languages (the political). And it might be that style can save you, can make you think as intensely as you need to to be saved: at least Virtue shows what that kind of thinking looks like. I’ve never read anything quite like this. It’s about what you lose and what stays with you. And this book will stay with you.
