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Witches, magic, and social equality happen to be some of my favorite things, so The Women Could Fly by Megan Giddings seemed a natural choice to add to my repertoire. This 2022 novel is timely and sharp-tongued in its not-so-subtle intersectional commentary about gender discrimination, women’s rights, autonomy, and other progressive issues.
It is Giddings’s second novel and has already become a favorite among lovers of her first book, Lakewood. The Women Could Fly is a niche dystopian fiction with fantastical elements to boot. The society in which Jo Thomas lives recognizes the existence of witches, and it punishes them accordingly. Any peculiarities associated with a particular woman may warrant an accusation. Consequently—and similarly to our own 18th century witch hunts—the accused could be put on trial or even sentenced to burn. The fear instilled in this book’s society fuels both their hatred of witches and their assertions of witchcraft, even when baseless. In addition to such constant surveillance, Jo endures the traumatic and ongoing disappearance of her mother, Tiana. It has been fourteen years since she vanished, and various rumors suggest potential causes: a gruesome murder, maybe. Perhaps a despicable abandonment. Worst of all, however, is the notion that Tiana was a witch. Jo wrestles with these uncertainties about her mother, her complicated relationships, social injustices, and her looming thirtieth birthday—the age by which she is legally required to be married to a man, lest she forfeits her autonomy and agrees to be constantly monitored for witchcraft. Even with so many worries permeating her life, Jo still wonders about her brave, independent, headstrong mother. When her mother is legally declared dead, her will makes one final request of Jo. And in completing this request, Jo must leave the life she knows, discovering more about her mother than she expected—and unearthing more about herself in the process.
Though The Women Could Fly is bizarre in some ways, it is grounded in the reality we know today. Giddings parallels certain traits of witchcraft to those we consider unsavory in a woman today, such as willfulness, disobedience, a biting tone, bodily autonomy, being unmarried, and being childless. Possession of such characteristics may invoke questioning, torture, or being burned at the stake in Jo’s world. Giddings is straightforward in her commentary about women’s limitations, equating the social and political consequences we face in our reality to the extreme sanctions imposed upon the accused women in The Women Could Fly. She is unapologetically outspoken about her views, her ideas made clear through direct use of language.
Giddings’s writing often revolves around her social commentary, but she also addresses common life experiences. Jo is close to her father, but their relationship is strained by gendered expectation and interaction. She is bisexual, but her attraction to women is seen as temporary before she finds the right man. Jo even struggles with her feelings of love, whether platonic or romantic, in most relationships. This protagonist attends social justice protests, works an everyman job at a museum, and still attends parties as an unsure twenty-eight-year-old who is still figuring out her life. Jo is an everywoman character. Pieces of her are in all of us.
I had expected a tightening as I grew older; I would like what I liked and that was the essence of who I was. But my personality gets easily seeped now with new details. I read something new, I watch something new, I eat something new, and the world feels again like a place where I want to stay. – Megan Giddings
But Giddings does not let us forget that Jo is also a Black woman in a precarious society, and whether this resonates with her readers or not, it is a crucial part of Jo’s story as well. Injustice is a key theme in The Women Could Fly, and Jo’s related struggles and triumphs are a testament to women of color in our reality.
Giddings is deliberate in her storytelling, but certain aspects of her execution fell short for me. Although she builds a solid character foundation and backstory from which Jo springs forth with potency, the rising action feels flat at times, as many exciting plot points and core social commentaries are introduced later in the book. As well, many of Jo’s relationships to other characters are preexisting. I sometimes struggled with my own investment in these characters or even just the connection between them and Jo. Though the end is certainly intriguing and uplifting, I feel the path Giddings takes to get there didn’t quite equal this compelling denouement.
Overall, I appreciate Giddings’s imagination and commitment to her analysis of our world. The Women Could Fly is passionate yet startling. It explores the basic universality of humanity, regardless of gender expression, race, class, and status; furthermore, it encourages this mutuality in a world which rejects it. The conversations Jo has with other women are vital discussions, and Jo’s journey contains her individual opportunities to rectify generations of ancestral trauma and abuse at the hands of oppressors. Giddings is secure in her mind and expression of greater ideas.
Some people said that there was power in her blood, a gift from her ancestors that she could endure. – Megan Giddings
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Josephine Thomas has heard every conceivable theory about her mother's disappearance. That she was kidnapped. Murdered. That she took on a new identity to start a new family. That she was a witch. This is the most worrying charge because in a world where witches are real, peculiar behavior raises suspicions and a woman—especially a Black woman—can find herself on trial for witchcraft.
But fourteen years have passed since her mother’s disappearance, and now Jo is finally ready to let go of the past. Yet her future is in doubt. The State mandates that all women marry by the age of 30—or enroll in a registry that allows them to be monitored, effectively forfeiting their autonomy. At 28, Jo is ambivalent about marriage. With her ability to control her life on the line, she feels as if she has her never understood her mother more. When she’s offered the opportunity to honor one last request from her mother's will, Jo leaves her regular life to feel connected to her one last time.
In this powerful and timely novel, Megan Giddings explores the limits women face—and the powers they have to transgress and transcend them.
As a Black woman who resides in Midwestern America, Giddings writes stories which provide a voice for minorities still experiencing oppression and regulation today. Jo is empowered by her mother’s family history, and her journey is a promising one amid her social climate. The Women Could Fly is a story that could not be told years ago; it is an earnest, poignant desire for history to cease repeating itself and instead learn from itself.
Megan Giddings is adamant that The Women Could Fly is not so much a prescient novel as a reflection of our current circumstances; Jo’s world is not an imminent example of what is to come but a mirror for our society’s faults. Her first novel, Lakewood, is similar in its dystopian, fantastical story with deep dives into working-class challenges and the treatment of Black bodies. It received much recognition and helped land Giddings a spot on Indiana University’s 20 under 40 list in 2021. Giddings is an avid reader herself, and she works as an assistant professor at the University of Minnesota.
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