Girl Dinner Book Review

Girl Dinner‘s exploration of feminist discourse is subtle, layered, and compelling. The novel interrogates power, agency, and the spectrum of choices available to women in modern society. The characters consider the role of “trad-wife” content (social media where women perform traditionally feminine tasks like baking, cleaning and decorating) within the broader context of contemporary feminism, particularly as it clashes with “girlboss” ideals. In one pivotal exchange, Alex, a successful human-rights lawyer and an alumn of The House, asserts that the only path to meaninful change in a patriarchal system is to “be in the room. Whatever it takes to sit at the table is the empowered choice”. Even if the seats at the table are ultimately decided by men. Sloane, one of the two protagonists, counters: “so then what is choosing not to even acknowledge the table?” This tension between engagement and refusal, to try and work within a flawed system to fix it or to ignore it entirely to build something else, is one that resonated with me. As someone who values agency as essential to feminism, I found myself reflecting on the complexities of choice, power, and complicity.

The novel also addresses motherhood with nuance, situating these discussions within an academic setting that is both nurturing and oppressive. I connected strongly with Sloane through this perspective, even though I don’t have children, because I could understand her feelings of impotence and rage, both towards her husband’s lack of support and the broader barriers she faces. The novel convincingly portrays the challenges of work-life balance in academia, particularly for women, and the sacrifices often required to maintain both professional and personal identities. Nina, by contrast, is a study in tenacity and emotional honesty. While she’s sometimes viewed as naive or idealistic by other characters, she is very much capable and deeply empathetic, unafraid to act in pursuit of her goals while still being compassionate.

Part of the novel’s success, for me at least, lies in its accessibility. Blake’s writing can be very dense, her other works often indulge in extended tangents about mathmatics and physics theories, which I struggled with a lot. In Girl Dinner, the philosophical and feminist considerations are woven more seamlessly into the narrative, making them engaging without overwhelming the reader.

While I expected the horror elements (CW for cannibalism if you’re not aware!), the novel’s true terror is in the slow, meticulous build up rather than the act itself. Blake’s attention to character psychology and interpersonal dynamics heightens this unease. That said, this build up does create a slower pace, with a focus on character interactions rather than plot. A few predictable plot points and a somewhat opaque ending prevent it reaching a full five stars for me (it’s a 4.5), as I think a couple more breadcrumbs could have been sprinkled to signpost that ending to readers. It took me a while to wrap my head around. Ultimately, however, Girl Dinner convinced me that there might be more Olivie Blake books out there for me. I loved its rich engagement with feminist theory, compelling characters, and the slow-burn unease simmering throughout the narrative.