I Can't Stop Thinking About..."Rouge" by Mona Awad

Traffic was slow-moving in Cambridge, only made worse by the mist that hung over the city.

But I wasn’t thinking about any of that as I drove to the library to see Mona Awad speak about her latest book, “Rouge.” I took advantage of the motionless line of cars in front of me and pulled down my sun visor to examine a crop of small zits that formed on the side of my face.

“All this humidity makes me greasy. Might be time to do a face mask,” I mused to myself when I realized traffic had resumed. I hit the gas to catch up with the line of cars that had moved forward while I was busy.

Thirty minutes later, I made it to the auditorium, eager to hear from the writer of “All’s Well,” a book that’s haunted me since I sped through it last year. Yet, when Mona stepped onto the stage at the event in an unforgiving black lace dress, my first thought was “Wow, I wish my body looked like hers.”

It was ironic (and gross) that my first thought was about her figure—Awad was there to promote her latest book “Rouge.” Described as a gothic fairy tale, it’s about Belle who works in a dress shop and whose mother was obsessed with beauty. (You’re already seeing the Disney fairy tale nods, right?) Belle’s mother dies under mysterious circumstances and when Belle returns to California to deal with her mother’s affairs, she finds herself sucked into the same beauty cult that her mother was in before the end of her life.

What follows is a confusing whirl of nights in a mysterious oceanside mansion with red jellyfish and masked people mixed with more realistic days, many of which Belle devotes to her skincare rituals (the products and routines read as a mad lib of phrases from Ulta and Sephora ads, sure to tickle anyone who also loves when they get their hands on a new serum promising plump skin or something similar).

I was first introduced to Awad last fall when I read “All’s Well” for a book club I joined briefly last year. It was a surreal Shakespearean romp about Miranda, a performer crippled by chronic pain. I am normally a fan of clean narratives with answers and resolutions. Awad doesn’t operate like that. She’s a master of unreliable narrators and writing that feels like a fever dream. I don’t always totally get it and I don’t know if I’m supposed to—but I love it nonetheless. I trust her enough to speed through her dream world, knowing what lies at the end: some answers and some lingering questions that stick with me.

While the stories themselves might be fantastical, they’re grounded in the reality of their themes. During the event, Award specifically talked about vanity, mother-daughter relationships, and envy in “Rouge.”

“You hide it, you cover it,” she said of the latter. “You always try to brush over it. I’m confronting it.”

I hadn’t even started “Rouge” at the time, but already I was beginning to confront my own envy and vanity. I’ve struggled with body image my entire life. My worries include, but aren’t limited to: my acne, my double chin, the discoloring of my teeth, and my body hair and the hair on my head. My biggest concern is always my weight. If it sounds like an exhausting way to think of your body, trust me, it is!

I tell myself all the time that my value is not equated to the size of my stomach or the smoothness of my skin, but no matter how many body positivity accounts I follow on Instagram and newsletters I read about unpacking my bias, I cannot free myself of my own expectations, particularly when it comes to being thin. (To be clear: These are expectations are for me alone.) It’s one of the things I’m most embarrassed of about myself and I worry how it’ll affect my own daughter someday.

I kept this in mind when I started “Rouge” a few days later. The reading journey was a wild fantasy, but the last several pages were the real gut-punch. Without spoiling too much, it brings utter clarity to the motives of Belle’s mother and speaks volumes about how mother-daughter relationships play into beauty expectations. Reading this scene was like looking into a crystal ball in some ways. It made me want to cry.

But as much as Awad’s books touch on these tender themes, they don’t let you walk away with answers. Awad herself talked about how this story was motivated, in part, by her own obsession with skincare and having the perfect skin. Someone asked if writing about this brought her closure.

“I don’t want closure,” she said. “Maybe that’s ok.”

I always picture satisfaction coming the day I’m not fixated on my appearance. As much as I want answers to how to let go of this, Awad and her writing—with its mystical quality and biting themes—reminds me there are not always answers. There’s not always closure. I don’t need to have all the answers. Maybe that’s why I like her books: Because they remind me I can be messy and imperfect and still be ok.

I also can’t stop thinking about…

• “Bunny” by Mona Awad. I know I shouldn’t double up on recommendations in the same newsletter, but I started this after finishing “Rouge” because everyone raves about it and it seemed like a perfect September-to-October transition book. This campus novel about an MFA student who gets sucked into a weird sorority where the girls all call each other “Bunny” reminds me of things I’ve gotten sucked into in order to fit in. It’s making me confront some ugly memories and themes, but I can’t put it down.

• My autumn playlist. This is a shameless self plug, but this combo of music always gets me in the fall mood and has been the soundtrack of my commute as of late.

• This piece from Bustle on my favorite corner of the Internet: TudorTok! I’m glad to see it get the recognition it deserves.