This year’s Women’s Prize for Fiction shortlist is the most readable line-up in years. I say this as someone who regularly works her way through prize lists, and therefore knows that there is usually more than one book on there that feels like hard work. “Prize nominee” should simply translate as “excellent read” – but often it seems more like shorthand for heavy-going or obtuse or the literary equivalent of eating your greens.
Granted, the Women’s Prize isn’t as guilty of this as some of the other big awards. But even if you take the past few years, you can see that judges seem to think dark and heavy equals literary merit. Last year’s winner Brotherless Night by V. V. Ganeshananthan, for instance, is a beautiful but dense, intense novel about the brutality and violence of the Sri Lankan civil war. And while 2023’s winner, Barbara Kingsolver’s Demon Copperhead, is undoubtedly terrific, it is so filled with abuse, neglect, alcoholism, poverty and mental illness that you finish it feeling exhausted.
Reading this year’s shortlist, on the other hand, was a joy. The judges have clearly been drawn to humour – it is certainly the funniest Women’s Prize line-up I can remember, what with the bawdiness of Fundamentally by Nussaibah Younis, the dry wit of Sanam Mahloudji’s The Persians and the outrageous hilarity of Miranda July’s All Fours. It’s also, dare I say, the sexiest; The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden being a novel that drips with desire, sexual liaisons punctuating the drug-fuelled party scenes in Aria Aber’s Good Girl, and All Fours being, well, All Fours (more on this in a moment).
It isn’t as though these books are short on those important, weightier themes that make them prize-worthy. Between them they interrogate topics such as the long shadow of war, migration and loneliness, but they are done with a lightness of touch. Given that it’s the 30th anniversary of the Women’s Prize this year, I for one could not be more delighted that accessible, fun and funny is getting its time in the sun – showing that these kinds of books can be just as clever as the heavier ones, and make you think just as much.
Still, as expected, some are more brilliant than others. Here’s my verdict on each, ranked from my least to most favourite…
Good Girl by Aria Aber
Good Girl follows Nila, the 19-year-old daughter of Afghan refugees, in Berlin as she tries to make sense of her heritage and identity while chasing freedom and escape in the city’s chaotic, seductive underground nightlife. She tumbles through parties, drugs, and a toxic relationship with a much older, established writer who manipulates her emotionally. It’s a coming-of-age novel, but one shaped by grief, power imbalances, and a search for belonging.
Aber’s prose is electric: her wit, her eye for detail, her ability to create atmosphere, and her command of voice make this a vivid and stylish debut. Nila’s internal conflict and self-destructive habits also feel raw and real. However, for me, her story and the dynamics within it – while convincing – feel a little too familiar and not quite fresh enough for this novel to stand out in a strong shortlist.
Bloomsbury, £16.99
The Persians by Sanam Mahloudji
Spanning from 1940s Tehran to modern-day United States, The Persians is an acerbically funny read about the undoing of a wealthy Iranian-American family. The novel shifts between siblings, cousins, and elders – each with their own entitlements, delusions, secrets and regrets – to tell a story about the rot that festers beneath privilege, and the ache of being caught between cultures.
As ever with novels with alternating perspectives, some are stronger than others. I particularly loved the gossipy tone of Shirin’s chapters, and the glamorous auntie whose arrest for prostitution as the book opens is the catalyst for what follows. It takes time to orient yourself in the family’s dynamics, but once it finds its rhythm, this book is compulsively readable. Although it doesn’t quite match the impact of the shortlist’s front-runners, The Persians is an ambitious and lively debut that I had a lot of fun reading.
Fourth Estate, £16.99
Tell Me Everything by Elizabeth Strout
Another masterclass from Elizabeth Strout, Tell Me Everything returns to both her familiar Maine setting and long-time protagonists Lucy Barton and Olive Kitterage – who, much to the delight of many Strout devotees, cross paths for the first time. We also revisit another former character of hers, the lawyer Bob Burgess, whose friendship with Lucy and decision to defend a troubled young man accused of committing an awful crime drives much of the plot.
That said, you don’t really read Strout for plot. Despite the mystery at the heart of Bob’s case, this is a quiet novel; the real drama in the emotional excavation of the characters. Strout’s talent is in capturing the ordinary minutiae – how people miscommunicate, how silence carries weight, how pain lingers. Her portrayal of small moments of connection, meanwhile, is subtly staggering – the final few pages gave me goosebumps.
My only problem with this one is that although it can stand alone, the novel will undoubtedly resonate more deeply if you’ve followed these characters’ journeys across previous books, and as such might isolate those who haven’t.
Penguin, £9.99
Fundamentally by Nussaibah Younis
Nadia is a young, bawdy and recently broken-hearted British-Asian academic who accepts a UN job in Iraq, where she will help to deradicalise ISIS brides. What follows is a surprisingly wild and hilarious ride through political hypocrisy, bureaucratic absurdity, and personal awakening. At the heart of it all is a compelling story about Nadia trying to help a particular teenager named Sara, who made the mistake of fleeing there from her east London home at 15 – and in whom Nadia can see her own mouthy teenage self.
This is a satirical novel with serious teeth – underneath the slapstick one-liners, there’s a clear-eyed critique of systems that fail to understand or protect women. The tone is audacious, even chaotic at times, but it works. Few books this year have felt as bold or necessary. The fact that this subject matter is handled with humour – and handled well – is a feat. It’s easily the most risk-taking novel here, and it more than pays off.
W&N, £16.99
All Fours by Miranda July
Only Miranda July could write a novel about menopause, sex, death, and midlife that is this riotously funny and completely unhinged. In following our unnamed narrator – a wife and mother – as she sets out on a road trip from LA to New York, only to spontaneously stop at a motel 30 minutes into her journey and stay there, All Fours is a deliriously good, no-holds-barred exploration of female sexuality and freedom.
One moment you’re chuckling over a perfectly observed bit of dialogue, the next, you’re impaled by a truth about motherhood or ageing. It’s sexually explicit, sometimes shockingly so, and is definitely not a book for the faint-hearted (I still can’t shake the image of one particular scene involving a tampon). But it’s also daring, unflinching and fiercely original – and if the Women’s Prize is about honouring women’s liberation in all its forms, this would be an excellent choice for a winner.
Canongate, £9.99
The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden
Set in post-war Netherlands, The Safekeep follows Isabel, a solitary young woman living in a country house, who reluctantly takes in her brother’s girlfriend, Eva, for the summer. Their interactions are fraught with suspicion and tension, intensified by the weight of recent history and personal secrets. As the women’s relationship twists and turns into one of simmering desire, the plot becomes so absorbing I was consumed by it late into the night.
But it is only in the final third of the novel that you begin to understand what this book is actually about. The slow reveal of Eva’s backstory is masterfully done, each new detail reshaping what you thought you knew. In the process, Van der Wouden writes with surgical precision, drawing out emotion in small gestures and unspoken thoughts.
Also shortlisted for last year’s Booker, this is one of the best novels I’ve read in the past few years and I still find it astonishing it’s a debut. The Safekeep is a luminous and ultimately unforgettable book that would be a much-deserved winner of the prize.
Viking, £16.99
The Women’s Prize for Fiction winner will be announced on 12 June
