Book Review #18: My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell

Today I’m coming at you with some slight controversy.

I didn’t hear about this book when it came out (because I don’t pay attention to these sorts of things), so I didn’t have very much background about it before going into this read. However, it was pretty apparent from the synopsis of the story that it would cover some controversial material.

My Dark Vanessa is a book about the relationship between a young teenager and her middle-aged teacher. It explores how abuse at a young age can affect emotional development, relationships, family, and overall life trajectory. The reader travels back and forth between Vanessa’s life as a teenager when the abuse occurs and her life as an adult as she’s dealing with the news of other allegations against her teacher. We get to see the events as they unfold juxtaposed with the aftermath and impact of these events on her life, which paints an intricate and perturbing portrait of abuse.

As you can see, this is certainly a delicate and somewhat controversial topic. However, the book has generally good reviews on Goodreads (4.1/5 stars), and the only real controversy I can find about it is that there are some parallels between this work of fiction and another author’s memoir. Unfortunately, many stories of abuse have similar parallels, and the controversy soon died out as people realized Russell had her own experiences with abuse (which is why she wrote a novel about it, go figure). All that is to say I don’t think there’s anything wrong with this book or reading it if the topic is something that interests you, but I do understand why many would avoid this type of literature in general.

The genre is listed as a thriller, though I don’t think I would classify it this way. While I was engrossed in the story, I wasn’t on the edge of my seat. It’s more of a psychological exploration and explanation in my eyes, which made it a really engaging (if not thrilling) read. Though I say this was an engaging read, make no mistake, it’s also a difficult one. I think the author does an excellent job portraying realistic characters and delving into the psychology of abuse, but doing an excellent job also means that she’s written some disturbing material. This is not a book for the fainthearted.

One of the things I really appreciated about the way the author depicts the main character is how she grapples with the confusion of victimhood, and I think this is a concept that we don’t talk about enough. Sometimes we don’t always feel like victims, even when we are. It can be easier to pretend like we’re not victims because if we haven’t been victimized, then we must have had some sort of control over the situation. It also gives us more control over our own story. There’s a really great quote from the book (spoken by Vanessa) that encapsulates this idea:

Because even if I sometimes use the word abuse to describe certain things that were done to me, in someone else’s mouth the word turns ugly and absolute. It swallows up everything that happened.

There’s a certain guilt that can be associated with victimhood, especially for victims who have complex feelings about their abusers. If they like this person some of the time, then were they always a victim? Of course the answer is yes, but the author uses Vanessa’s story to show why someone in her position would feel conflicted about this question. It’s a really important conversation, and it’s often neglected because of how black and white we want to see the world. The book talks about the gray, complex feelings that can exist between abusers and their victims.

In that sense, I wouldn’t compare it to Lolita (which is what this book is often compared to). We won’t get into the morality of Lolita, but the main difference between these two books is that Lolita tells the story from the abuser’s perspective, while My Dark Vanessa tells it from the victim’s. This changes the story and meaning behind the work entirely, I think, and makes it difficult to say one book is like the other. They may both cover a similar topic, but I think they handle it in vastly different ways.

Particularly, in My Dark Vanessa, the author does a great job characterizing both Vanessa and Mr. Strane. She’s lonely, isolated, deeply emotional, and very smart. It’s easy to see how she would become wrapped up in an older, kind, and compassionate teacher. There are a lot of reasons people cross boundaries of impropriety, and loneliness is one of the most common. We humans really do like to feel understood.

This is extremely different from Lolita in that while Vanessa may not be the most unbiased narrator, she’s not so completely deluded about herself or her abuser as Humbert is about himself and Dolores. This aspect of the book alone is enough to justify its existence (not that writing always has to have a justification, but it can help). She’s often conflicted and occasionally deluded, but in a way that is easy for the reader to understand and empathize with. We understand why she makes the choices she does because we can see the effect this relationship and Mr. Strane’s frequent manipulation has on her.

Along with this, Russell also makes a point to explain why Vanessa isn’t as “against” Mr. Strane as a reader may expect. This may be a little bit of a spoil, but Vanessa isn’t exactly upset with him. She still respects him and holds him in great esteem, even though she understands that what happened to her was an extreme violation and has had serious impacts. This is another important aspect of victimhood that isn’t often discussed. People will point to a situation like this when victim-blaming. Why didn’t she report him? If what happened was so bad, why is she still in contact with this person? Vanessa’s predicament in My Dark Vanessa answers these questions and shows how this issue is so much more complex.

For example, there’s a scene where Vanessa is being driven home from school by her parents. They don’t know the entire situation, but they know enough to be upset, and this is how she feels about it:

My parents stare straight ahead, their anger and grief palpable enough to taste. I open my mouth to let it all in and swallow it whole, where deep in my belly it turns to blame.

It’s such a poignant moment in the book because while the author isn’t blaming Vanessa’s parents for the situation, she is showing how even a subtle reaction can deeply affect a teenager in Vanessa’s position. It’s heartbreaking to see her relationships devolve after the abuse when we, as the reader, know that she hasn’t done anything wrong. This is the moment where we know that Vanessa isn’t going to return to herself, that she won’t be able to fully repair her relationships, and that while she’s separated from her abuser, the effects of the abuse aren’t over for her. It’s a great (and well-written) representation of how abuse can stick with a victim and remain hidden from others.

Speaking of the writing, it’s fantastic. The writing style reminds me of Jeffrey Eugenidies, specifically The Virgin Suicides, which I loved. There’s the same feeling of being swept away in the words and really being inside the head of the character that I had when reading his book. Part of me wonders if maybe this is a characteristic of writing about darker topics, because it’s something I also noticed in Gillian Flynn’s books (Sharp Objects, certainly), but I don’t think I’ve read enough books of this kind to make a definitive judgement. For now, let’s call it a hypothesis.

If you’re uncertain about reading this book, I will say that the author doesn’t beat around the bush with the subject matter. It’s very upfront and unapologetic, so I think it will be easy to tell early on if you’re interested in reading the book or not. The first chapter is of Vanessa in the present, and it captures the tone of the rest of the book extremely well. I’ll also say that the ending, though maybe not as satisfactory as many would like, is a high-note for Vanessa after everything she’s gone through. It’s not a perfect, justice-is-served, everyone becomes happy and completely fixed ending. Instead, it’s realistic and semi-hopeful, which I thought fit the tone of the book very well.

Overall, if you’re someone who can stomach dark and uncomfortable topics, I highly recommend this novel. While there are other ways to learn about the psychology of abuse or victimhood, I think this book does a great job discussing these difficult ideas in a way that’s easy to absorb and understand.

The Lit Wiz


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