Review: Difficult Women

There is no comfort in David Plante’s Difficult Women. No refuge, no redemption – only a stark, unflinching portrait of Jean Rhys, Sonia Orwell, and Germaine Greer. His prose is precise and immersive, tricking the reader into believing they are in the room with these women, until it becomes clear that they are not. They are merely spectators, as passive as Plante himself. His book offers no insight, only exposure.

The central question Difficult Women raises is whether Plante is a confidant or an intruder, a disciple or an opportunist. His fascination with these women is clear, but it is undermined by detachment. He recounts their outbursts, their failures, their contradictions, but never quite their triumphs. Sonia Orwell spits at him, “You don’t think!” She is both right and wrong. Plante does think, obsessively, but what’s missing isn’t thought, it’s purpose. What he offers isn’t understanding, but a fixation on their fragility.

Plante’s obsession with uncovering secrets runs through the book like a refrain. He repeatedly insists on revealing their hidden truths, as if this alone could explain their greatness. Of Germaine Greer, he writes, “her only secret was this: she would not reveal how she had become Germaine Greer, how she had learned everything she had to learn to become the person she was.” But there is no secret here, no hidden formula for artistic success. This is a misguided pursuit. The complexity of these women’s lives cannot be distilled into a secret to be uncovered; their greatness isn’t a mystery to be solved but a product of their own messy, often unknowable forces.

In a moment of rare self-reflection, Plante admits that these women “could justify me in my body and soul.” This statement is telling, for it reveals that his quest for their secrets is not merely about understanding them, but about justifying his own existence. What does it mean that he is drawn to their brilliance and complexity, only to reduce them to something he can possess, or at least claim to understand? The real irony of Difficult Women lies in this search for justification: in chasing their secrets, Plante exposes his own need for validation.

And so, we leave these women as we found them: brilliant, troubled, enigmatic. For all his access, Plante never truly understands his subjects. He only proves that they, like all of us, are fallible enough to let the wrong person in.

To me, a difficult 2 out of 5 or “pan”:

1. it is well-written
2. reveals uncomfortable truths and that's being generous.