It is the fiftieth anniversary of the publication of Doris Lessing’s The Golden Notebook.
Lessing, the Nobel Prize-winning writer whose brilliant novels rely as much on her interpretation of history as on the delineation of the lives of modern women, has always denied it is a feminist novel. But for many feminists, its publication dwarfed other historical events of 1962: it had more impact on me than did the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Rolling Stones’ debut, and The United Nations General Assembly’s resolution condemning South Africa’s racist apartheid.
Her powerful novel centers on Anna, a writer and single mother whose life is fragmented because she somehow cannot write the truth. She has contempt for her best-selling novel about an interracial relationship in Africa, is disillusioned by the reports of communist torture and anti-Zionism in the Soviet Union, and seemingly falls in love only with men who cannot love deeply. But this painful, honest novel suggested alternative futures for women who had decided that society was breaking down, that marriage wasn’t viable, and that they needed to experiment. Lessing chronicles a collapsed society, broken by the trauma of war, fear of the bomb, and emotional frigidity.
So has The Golden Notebook stood the test of time?
It was my favorite novel when I was 15. For some reason, though I had had no sexual experience, I identified with Anna. When I reread it in my 30s I understood Anna’s difficulties with writing (I had sold out as a “pop-culture” freelance writer, and enjoyed writing trivial nonsense), her encounters with men (when you’re divorced in your 30s, you’re lucky if you ever meet a normal unmarried man again), and her radical politics.
The experimental structure of the novel is bold. Lessing alternates sections of a short traditional novel about Anna, “Free Women,” with Anna’s writings in four notebooks–black, red, yellow, and blue–in which she tries to measure out the truth about her life of organized chaos, often writing in fragments, experimenting with different styles, chronicling her experience straightforwardly in the communist party in Africa, her marriage and love affairs, her difficulty with writing. She also writes a novel about an alter ego, Ella, who is more brittle than Anna, but undergoes similar emotional upheaval.
Musing on the post-war fragmentation, Anna observes:
But it isn’t only the terror everywhere, and the fear of being conscious of it, that freezes people. It’s more than that. People know they are in a society dead or dying. They are refusing emotion because at the end of every emotion are property, money, power they work and despise their work, and so freeze themselves. They love but know that it’s a half-love or a twisted love, and so they freeze themselves.”
I recognize that emotional freezing.
In some ways, this was a novel for its time. Anna’s quest for sexual freedom is commonplace in the 21st century, although it often occurs without intelligence or self-respect: just a “hook-up.” Freudian analysis–Anna has been in analysis with a psychiatrist she calls Mother Sugar, who keeps trying to get her to write–has been replaced by pharmaceutical remedies (at least in the U.S.). Anna’s portrait of her misogynistic gay lodger, Ivor, seems believable in the context of the book–he and his lover mock her, refer to her as a cow, and so she has to throw them out–but many would feel more comfortable if Ivor were rewritten as Paul Rudd’s character in that movie with Jennifer Anniston.
Lessing’s Children of Violence series, about the heroine Martha Quest, treats similar material. The first three novels, Martha Quest, A Proper Marriage, and A Ripple from the Storm are traditional in form, the fourth, Landlocked, is slightly experimental, and the fifth, The Four-Gated City, is so over-the-top that it makes The Golden Notebook look conservative; parts of The Four-Gated are science fiction. Martha is altogether a harder character than Anna–she leaves one unloved husband and daughter, then marries another man she doesn’t love just because they’re in the communist party together, works hard as a communist until the reports of concentrations camps come in, divorces her second husband, and then escapes to England…where I must say unexpected things happen.
Some of you will prefer The Golden Notebook. Political attitudes have changed in the last 50 years, and you have to respect those attitudes of the ’50s and learn from them while you inhabit the book. You must also live with Martha Quest if you read the Children of Violence series, which I wrote about recently here.

I did not read The Golden Notebook when it came out and, if I had, I think my reaction would have been different from what it was when I read it a couple of years ago. I posted several comments at that time, the third of which is about Lessing’s feminism: http://silverseason.wordpress.com/2010/03/10/doris-lessing-the-golden-notebook-feminism/.
Something jarred me about the book.
SilverSeason, I just went and read your post–excellent!
TGN is a classic, but so odd, so bold, and innovative that we see nothing like it now. No one has ever quite pegged Lessing. I loved rereading this because I saw more clearly the themes of her other books: I wasn’t reading in a vacuum.
I reread _Golden Notebook_ a couple of years ago, perhaps when Lessing was awarded the Noble at last. Like you, when I read it for the first time I was mesmerized by some of it. It was among the first of my truly modern adult books — not middle brow, not book-of-month club. Nor was it a classic, whose content is so literally different from our time. The voice and circumstances and thoughts contain ones I had had.
But now I too wonder about its feminism. I find something very destructive in the fifth notebook (the golden one) showing us girl makes good by becoming a man’s utterly compliant mistress day and night. We are to feel through this sexual release with Saul, our heroine transcends. No she doesn’t. The novel through she’s fighting for a career, for a place in the public square and sun, but keeps finding it in her beds with men I loved the liberation of the golden notebook then; now it does not seem to me to signal liberty.
I was surprised by the golden notebook: I had thought that everything came together for Anna there. Then I reread it and found I had not remembered correctly.
There is some beautiful writing, and I love parts of the novel, but, yes, her affairs are very disturbing in that they are not good for her. Most of the men have previous commitments, and cannot become her husband, which she really wants. (That damned Michael!)
It’s a very important, influential novel. There was nothing like it when it was published, and when I finally read it (not in the ’60s) it still was applicable to the lives of the (older by a generation) women I knew, whom I observed getting divorced, having affairs, being very anxious. I do prefer some of her others: the Martha Quest series, The Sweetest Dream, etc.
It’s strange to return to an influential novel like this after so many years.
Looking back I surmise that more than 30 years ago now I was taken by the “golden notebook” at the end because it seemed so liberating: she was free to enjoy sex at last, liberated from other repressions. Now that seems a delusion. I agree wit Dworkin that what seemed sexual liberation was not at all, it was just a new way to service men who remain in control, in charge. So maybe that’s why the book has lost its final exhilaration. Ellen
I haven’t read Dworkin, but certainly will now. It’s very odd how we read things differently at different periods in our lives. I’m much more a Martha Quest person now, and think Landlocked is a masterpiece, but The Golden Notebook was my favorite novel for many years.
I also like her ’70s novels: The Summer of the Dark is good, more conventional than The Golden Notebook.
I do love The Golden Notebook, but it isn’t as I remember it. I thought I should add that Doris Lessing never said it was a feminist novel. The reverse, in fact. She was writing about women’s experiences, but also about the breakdown of society. I think she is more honest about male-female relationships than we feel comfortable about expressing today. It’s not a zipless fuck for Doris Lessing’s characters! That happened later.