Each day, millions of people watch Natalie’s perfect life play out on social media. Six beautiful children; a handsome cowboy husband; a beautiful home and delicious meals made with produce, dairy and meat from her own farm—it’s a life out of sync with the modern world and one most can only aspire to. Including Natalie, who finds spinning this fairy tale harder by the day. Her oldest daughter is asking tough questions, her husband is unhappy and the farm is a money pit. When Natalie wakes up one morning in a version of the farm that is truly from the past, without electricity or any of the modern conveniences, she must confront the reality of the traditional lifestyle she’s encouraged her followers to idealize.
It’s a premise sure to inspire schadenfreude, but there’s much more to the appeal of Yesteryear. Debut author Caro Claire Burke paints a nuanced portrait of her complicated heroine, the grind of the influencer lifestyle and the messy debates over modern motherhood, giving readers plenty to chew on.
The idea of a modern-day influencer who extols the lifestyle and values of the past actually having to live in the time they’re glorifying is immediately gripping. Where did it come from?
Strange, I know, but true: The idea for the novel came from the title. I woke up one morning thinking the word Yesteryear. It felt so expansive to me, like such a universe unto itself, that the story unspooled very quickly thereafter.
Women packaging their home lives for commercial consumption is nothing new: Think writers like Shirley Jackson and Erma Bombeck and reality TV stars like Jon and Kate Gosselin or the Duggars. But in the 21st century, blogging and social media have made it easy for anyone to share their domestic life online. What other changes do you think the internet has brought to what’s often called “lifestyle content”? What’s your own relationship to this type of media?
It’s true that women have been “selling” the home for as long as the home has been commodifiable. The only thing that’s changed is the price for entry. Martha Stewart, for example, had to bootstrap numerous companies and wine and dine the whole of Manhattan before she was able to launch her lifestyle magazine. In contrast, the homemaking influencers today simply need an iPhone and their own kitchen. Of course, the richer a woman is, the more beautiful the “lifestyle” will generally be—but the entry to compete is still objectively quite low. Combine this relative accessibility with the reaction speed and volume demands of an always-online audience, and you have an industry with the capacity for infinite growth, massive financial returns and a high likelihood of exploitation, both of the self and of any nearby children who can be monetized into the mix. The end result is a vision of homemaking that is wholly unreal—which is probably why I (and seemingly every other woman on planet Earth) am obsessed with it.
“The tradwife lifestyle offers a vision of motherhood stripped of all the anxieties and difficulties that come with modern life. It’s a fantasy, in other words.”
Yesteryear blends social satire and suspense in ways that are surprising. What inspired this mix of genres, and what do you think they bring out in each other?
When I was writing Yesteryear, I really didn’t know how the novel would be classified, in terms of genre, and I made a point not to think about it too much. I was afraid that if I considered all the competing elements, it would overwhelm me and impact my stylistic choices. All of which is to say—I have no idea how it happened. But I like to think the relative genre fluidity creates a dynamic, yet balanced, reading experience.
My generation grew up hearing that women could have it all, but over the last 20 years or so, it’s become clear that the lack of support for families and children in the U.S. means that’s really hard to do. It’s easy to see how falling back on traditional gender roles can be tempting. What do you see as the appeal of this tradwife lifestyle, and why do you think it is resonating so much today?
If the extremely complex plight of modern womanhood could be boiled down into a (probably very) reductive two-door metaphor, where door number one offers the stereotypical career woman life (lonely, overworked and unfulfilled) and door number two offers the stereotypical stay-at-home life (equally lonely, overworked and unfulfilled) then the tradwife lifestyle purports to be door number three. It offers a vision of motherhood stripped of all the anxieties and difficulties that come with modern life. It’s a fantasy, in other words, and at a time when women are more strapped than ever to make it all work, it’s no surprise that it’s struck a nerve.
Speaking of generations, there are three generations of women represented in this book: Natalie’s mother and mother-in-law; Natalie and her sister; and Natalie’s daughters. How do you see the interplay among the generations and their performance of womanhood and motherhood?
It was important for me to show the cultural education of womanhood that is passed down from one generation to another. I wanted to show examples of women accepting their cultural inheritance, and examples of women rejecting it.
“We spend so much time (rightly) discussing the benefits that men reap, but those benefits come at a cost, and that cost is often related to emotional and spiritual fulfillment.”
Manhood is also a performance, and Natalie’s husband gets stuck in one that doesn’t suit him. It may be cliche to say that patriarchy hurts men too . . . but cliches exist for a reason! Can you talk about this character and what he brings to the story?
Caleb is potentially my favorite character in the novel. I love the counterweight he provides to Natalie’s own gender struggles. When I was sketching him in early drafts, I liked how he seemed to offer a portal into the burden of patriarchy for men. We spend so much time (rightly) discussing the benefits that men reap, but those benefits come at a cost, and that cost is often related to emotional and spiritual fulfillment. Poor Caleb, like his wife, is not very emotionally fulfilled, and this shared spiritual bankruptcy eventually leads to disastrous consequences.
Natalie is playing the perfect mother online, but she has complicated and mainly negative feelings about being a parent. She says that “every woman I know lied to me about what it would be like.” Why do you think it’s so hard to tell the truth about motherhood? Do you anticipate any pushback to depicting a woman who does not see it positively?
I’m sure there will be all kinds of pushback to the topics discussed in this book. Pushback is great. Dialogue and disagreement is great. I think Natalie’s frustration with the lies of motherhood is true for religious and secular communities alike: so much of these feminized experiences are stigmatized from the jump, and women aren’t culturally encouraged to be honest about their nuanced relationship to motherhood, childbearing, spousedom and more.
You’re the co-host of the podcast Diabolical Lies, along with Katie Gatti Tassin. What has this project taught you about storytelling, and how does it inform your writing?
I’ve learned that different mediums offer different opportunities for communication, and require different narrative approaches. I tend to be more direct in my podcast narratives—you only have two hours or less to get your message across. Fiction writing allows me to relax and take my time. Both are useful.
Movie rights for Yesteryear were sold before the book was released, and Anne Hathaway is attached. Can you tell us anything more about the film version? Are you involved at all?
I have an executive producer role in the film, so I’m consulting on the ideation and script-writing process. Mum’s the word, but things are looking up.
Between the topic and the plot twists, people will be talking about this boo. Are there any recent releases that have gotten you and your friends talking?
Whidbey by T Kira Madden came out in March; I thought it was breathtaking.