- Bad Girl novels proliferated in the wake of Gone Girl and The Girl on the Train, while Sad Girl novels have evolved from the comic haplessness of Bridget Jones in the 1990s, to more sobering ground with Sally Rooney’s introspective bestsellers.
- Sad Bad Girl novels combine the best – or should I say the worst?
- Trauma is sensationalised, damaged characters are diminished and complicated, and challenging situations are compressed into marketable entertainment.
- It also means the Sad Bad Girl was a trope from the outset.
- Typically in her late 20s or early 30s, the Sad Bad Girl is insecure and adrift, seething with self doubt and drowning in denial.
- I’m frustrated by the proliferation of stories about two-dimensional women behaving badly when there is such rich potential for transgressive Sad Bad Girls.
Green Dot’s lost millennial woman
Unfortunately, the much-buzzed-about Australian debut novel, Green Dot, with its tale of a young, white, messed-up woman searching for meaning in all the wrong places, fails to break new ground.
- Sharply observed, funny and tender, set between Sydney and an unnamed British city, it’s a likeable enough narrative.
- But take a closer look at this frothy, sassy story and you might begin to question the appeal.
- Put simply, Green Dot is the tale of an office love affair between 24-year-old Hera and Arthur, her older, married colleague.
- Conforming to the trope of lost millennial woman, Hera brims with fragile confidence and pernicious self-doubt.
Self-abasing ‘almost for the sake of it’
- Hera makes Arthur sound like a pet rock she has tried to use to orient herself.
- But for all his awkward British sensitivity, he avoids the subject of his marriage like the plague, which renders him spineless.
- Despite being entirely alone overseas during the outbreak of a deadly virus, Hera continues to be preoccupied with nothing more than missing Arthur.
- And while her flaws are central to her character, like too many Sad Bad Girls, she is self-consciously self-abasing almost for the sake of it.
- Read more:
My Year of Rest and Relaxation: 'sad-girl' fetishism or 'cuttingly funny' feminist satire?
Insightful exploration of a traumatised woman
By contrast, Lucy Treloar’s new novel, Days of Innocence and Wonder, explores the search for meaning and connection with depth and sensitivity, from the perspective of trauma.
- Needless to say, this is not the story of a Sad Bad Girl, but an insightful and sensitive exploration of a traumatised woman.
- Protagonist Till is a 23-year-old woman on the run from a devastating childhood experience that continues to bleed into the present.
- Disrupting ideas about safety and refuge, unsettling the boundaries of space and time, this is a story about how the past shapes the present.
- Ultimately, Till must learn what this means for her and what she can do about it – or not.
Addresses structural misogyny
- And without providing spoilers, the way Till’s past continues to track her is hard to believe and not adequately explored or explained.
- While this preserves a mysterious quality, it leaves too many important questions unanswered, and too many loose threads hanging.
- Overall though, this is a moving novel that addresses the structural misogyny in Australian society, as well as the ways it intersects with the persistent issue of racism.
Liz Evans does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
