Review of Too Much: How Victorian Constraints Still Bind Women Today by Rachel Vorona Cote
When I first stumbled across Rachel Vorona Cote’s Too Much: How Victorian Constraints Still Bind Women Today, I was captivated by its promise to explore the persistence of Victorian social norms in our modern lives. As a feminist reader, I always seek new insights into the evolving struggles of womanhood. However, what I found within these pages was a deeply frustrating experience that left me questioning Cote’s conclusions and intentions.
Cote embarks on a journey through the cultural and literary landscape, analyzing how the concepts of "too muchness" — from emotions to physicality — continue to constrain modern women. While the idea has potential, the execution feels muddied and, at times, outdated. Cote mentions iconic figures from both the Victorian and contemporary eras, but her arguments often lack clarity. Perhaps if this book had been released a decade earlier, it would have felt more relevant. Instead, it frequently drifts into discussions of films and references that are now largely forgotten or misaligned with current feminist discourse.
One major area of concern is her problematic glorification of certain women who are depicted as “too much” while simultaneously ostracizing those who don’t fit her criteria. What happened to female solidarity? This glaring oversight made it difficult for me to connect with her argument — a conversation about women should invite inclusivity, not division. Additionally, Cote’s romance with mental illness and self-harm felt disconcertingly celebratory, dangerously disregarding the real struggles faced by women today.
Cote’s writing style ranges from engaging to preachy, often disrupting the flow with personal anecdotes that could have been more effectively integrated into a broader critique of societal norms. For example, her deep dives into the lives of fictional characters like Jane Eyre and contemporary cultural figures feel disconnected, as they often stray from the core historical focus she claims to uphold. I kept hoping for deeper insights into the applicable ways Victorian literature reflects current realities, but Cote’s narrative often stumbles into confusion.
Among my grievances, one stood out starkly: her treatment of self-harm in the latter chapters. When Cote proclaimed her own struggles while discussing this sensitive topic, I felt a visceral discomfort. What message does that send, especially to impressionable readers? It’s a poignant moment that overshadowed much of the preceding analyses and, rather than fostering understanding, contributes to a romanticism of mental distress.
While this review leans heavily on critique, I do acknowledge that Cote’s endeavor aims to foster dialogue about women’s issues, however misguided it may be. Readers interested in Victorian literature or feminist theory might find value in her exploration, though it often lacks the nuance needed for a meaningful conversation.
Maybe Too Much will resonate differently with others, especially those looking for a more academic approach to the topic. However, I left feeling that there are far more compelling and insightful works available for those seeking genuine feminist discourse. If you’re looking for a nuanced exploration of these themes, I highly recommend seeking out The Madwoman in the Attic by Sandra M. Gilbert and Susan Gubar or Cynthia Nixon’s beautiful Be a Lady, They Said.
In summary, Cote’s Too Much left me feeling frustrated, not because of its themes, but due to its execution. It’s a missed opportunity wrapped in nostalgia, offering little that feels truly innovative or enlightening. Perhaps it’s time to look towards literature that challenges rather than perpetuates constraints.
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