Lessons in Chemistry – Bonnie Garmus

This story is nothing short of beautiful.

Elizabeth is an unwed mother and scientist navigating grief in the 60s. After Calvin, her partner, leaves, she’s left pregnant and alone with their dog, Six-Thirty.

I mostly liked this book. Mostly.

This book documents the fight to be taken seriously in a time dominated by stereotypical gender roles within a household. Elizabeth is fighting every page to be taken seriously. To be taken as a chemist, not an administrative assistant. The same fight to be taken seriously, as a professional, is being fought by other characters as well, even her own daughter.

I loved every single page for the most part. I loved Calvin. I loved the dog, Six-thirty.

I’m a sucker for anthropomorphizing in books when it’s done well. I’m so happy to say that this book handled it well. I enjoyed that the author went into Six-Thirty’s perspective. He was my favorite character.

When someone is deep into their grief, it can be hard to convey information and their thoughts can feel muddled. By putting distance between Elizabeth and the reader, the grief felt more palpable. I felt how lost and devastated she was through Six-Thirty’s perspective.

Mad, her daughter, is a little unrealistic. Let me preface this by saying that I have never interacted with a genius child. I truly don’t know how they act when confronted with things such as toys. I do know that they would feel alienated from their classmates, and the author conveyed that well.

I feel like Mad’s age was unclear for a lot of the book. We are told one thing, but she feels like a completely different age. Elizabeth was teaching her chemistry as a literal baby and it’s unrealistic to believe she would comprehend and retain the information. Babies can’t even see when they’re born, much less learn chemistry. This level of unrealistic academic achievements continues throughout Mad’s life.

I loved, absolutely adored her neighbor, Harriet. She is a kind soul who married a disgusting, misogynistic man. She does everything she can to take care of Mad and support Elizabeth in her determination to raise her daughter with love and care. Her development throughout this book is top tier.

I loved the incorporation of the cooking show. It’s ironic and I love the way Elizabeth fights back. She doesn’t try to hide it. She does things her way.

Her companionship with Walter shed light on the trouble that men may also be having. His wife left and he was stuck with their kid. During a time when men weren’t expected to pack lunches or cook, he struggled. He was seen as an outcast, much the way Elizabeth was.

I know, I know. This is a strongly feminist book so it can be a little irksome to some people for a man to be getting sympathy in any capacity. However, it is important to look at every situation as a multifaceted problem that has a lot of grey areas. I thought it was great that we saw it from his perspective as well, even though he kept trying to force Elizabeth to adapt to the extremely derogatory situations with the cooking show. He was trying to keep his job to raise his own child.

Elizabeth could be a little frustrating at times. She’s incredibly stoic. Some of her actions don’t feel typical of a woman during that time period (which is likely the point) but it’s almost as if the author took someone from 2023 and planted them in the 1960s. It’s a little weird and a little empowering. I also liked that Elizabeth was a rower; it showed her propensity towards teamwork and equality.

There was one aspect of this book that was actually infuriating and frustrated me immensely.

Religion is only seen as a bad thing in this book. Between the molesting priest insinuations and the blatant depiction of the Reverend being “simple-minded”, there was a lot of hostility towards religion. It looked at religion from one angle. When we are in Elizabeth’s POV, that’s fine. Sure. She’s a scientist. She’s a humanist. Fine.

But for the chapters from the Reverend’s POV to be negatively oriented towards God? It was uncomfortable and disrespectful. You can’t focus on one thing (feminism) and put something else down to elevate it. In other words, you can’t put religion down chapter after chapter to make Elizabeth seem strong, intelligent, and mature. Books should empower people. All people. You shouldn’t step on people to build yourself up. The Reverend presented a unique opportunity to incorporate this other perspective and the author squandered it.

The book dragged at around the seventy percent mark. It wasn’t much but it was enough for me to put the book down for a couple of days.

This book was a lot to digest. As a woman who is currently in management and trying to gain respect, parts of this book hit a little close to home. Honestly, if you’re a woman, this book will hit a little close to home. It’s a good thing. For me, it made me appreciate what I have. I regularly receive paychecks and I have my own bank account. I’m not expected to marry. I can use birth control with minimal judgment. In the 60s, this wasn’t typical. How blessed we are now, even though there is a lot more fighting to do.

If I could describe this book in one word, I would define it as empowering. If Elizabeth can establish a career as an unwed mother in the 60s, then I can do whatever I set my mind to in 2023.

“Whenever you start doubting yourself, whenever you feel afraid, just remember. Courage is the root of change and change is what we’re chemically designed to do.”

LEssons in Chemistry, Bonnie Garmus