By Jessica Cogan
When you come out at the other end of Elizabeth Merrick's Girly, "refreshing" may not be the first word that comes to mind. Haunting, certainly. Almost chemically addictive, for sure. Exhausting - oh yeah. But when I finished the novel and set out for a new read, only to be met with stacks of novels about angst-ridden 30-somethings worrying over marital status, crap jobs and Jimmy Choos, Girly strikes me as refreshing in a filthy, gritty way - like eating a bloody steak after months on sprouts and tofu.
Girly is a sometimes dark, often unsettling novel that tackles sexuality, religion, secrecy and familial roles as experienced by three generations of the Hart family, particularly its females. The novel begins by following Racinda and Ruth, two sisters growing up in rural Pennsylvania to a troubled and frail mother, Amandine, and her brassy, take-charge mother-in-law, Button. Ruth is the elder sister. Beautiful, exciting and deeply disturbed, she is the vitality and the violence that courses through the family's veins. Her presence and, eventually, her absence define those around her.
