With that, I was hooked: I devoured Vanderkam’s books, including 168 Hours: You Have More Time than You Think, Off The Clock, and Tranquility by Tuesday. Vanderkam’s time management books tend to cover some similar themes. Her initial insight proposed in 168 Hours: if there are 168 hours in every week, working 40 hours each week and sleeping 8 hours a night leaves a mind-boggling 72 hours for everything else. She frequently exhorts her readers to chart their own time in hourly increments, to find out where those 168 hours are going. She has even done broad surveys of other people’s time charts, leading to one of her most interesting titles, I Know How She Does It: How Successful Women Make the Most of Their Time. 

Not only did I enjoy reading all these books—I enjoy rereading them. There’s something refreshing about being reminded in Laura’s sprightly, precise prose that the doom-and-gloom narratives we cling to about the elusivity of our time often aren’t quite true—you do have the time to read that book you love, take a hot bath, climb the corporate ladder at your company, or bond with your kids. Rather than wallowing in a sense that time is always running out, you can choose to engage with your priorities differently, finding flexible, workable solutions for the realities of daily living. I chart my time every year or so, just to see how things are going—and I usually return to a Vanderkam title or two, just to remind myself of the endless potential of my time. 

So, of course, I was thrilled to find out that Vanderkam’s new book, Big Time: A Simple Path to Time Abundance, was coming out in May. In many ways, Big Time will be a  review, of sorts, for those who are familiar with Vanderkam’s principles. But she also offers new tools—and a new perspective on previous insights that makes me excited to read her future work. 

Credit: Laura Vanderkam

The review and the new

Vanderkam’s perennial insight—thinking of our time in bigger terms than just the 24-hour day—is foundational here. But while 168 Hours encouraged her readers to think of their lives in terms of weeks, Vanderkam suggests that we think even bigger in this book, reminding us that a year is composed of 8,760 hours: 

If you want to go back to school, you could figure out how much time each class and the associated coursework would take. Even something like 18 hours a week for 36 weeks of the year comes out to 648 hours. I’m not saying it would be easy to make that fit. It won’t be easy. But if a year has 8,760 hours, sleeping 2,920 (8 hours per night) and working 40 hours for 49 weeks (1,960) leaves 3,880 hours. You could spend 28 hours per week with family (1,456 hours) and then hunt for those 648 hours among the remaining 2,424 . . . the year will happily fit it all. (155)

In short, Vanderkam argues for “zooming out”: reminding us that, though every minute of every day might not feel easy or balanced, a year as a whole can be. 

Concretely, this means making and following through not on grand, dramatic visions, but on the small steps that make meaningful goals worthwhile. In a chapter titled “Dream Big, Plan Small,” Vanderkam outlines a project where she read War and Peace in 361 days (one chapter per day):

Reading 361 chapters in 361 days gets us there, and yet there was something magical about the process. It felt so light and easy. . . . I’d kept my promise and time kept its promise: Over big enough stretches of time, you can do anything. (58)

Though some of her tips will be review for true Vanderkam devotees, she folds new nuggets of wisdom into the mix. The book is chock-full of practical, reasonable tips: Vanderkam recommends having a “golden hour” in the evening to spend intentional time doing things that you love, rather than scrolling or watching Netflix, to improve your sense of having time for the things that matter to you—without having to cut out screen time entirely. In Chapter 4, “Stop Wishing Time Away,” she offers suggestions for helping the workday feel more expansive (in a delightful way, not in an exhausting way!) like spending 15 minutes every week deepening a friendship with someone at work. 

A sometimes-limited audience

One direction where I’d love to see Vanderkam’s work expand is bringing her message to different audiences, like women of lower income, those with blue-collar jobs, or men in a variety of fields. Like her other books, Big Time is addressed to the contemporary woman, and has a tendency to assume that she is married with children, working a white-collar job. I did appreciate Vanderkam’s nod to single women in her “Be Patient” chapter: 

For instance, if you would like to meet someone special, active patience means believing that someday you will. You can see yourself dancing at your wedding. In the meantime, you are systematic about going on enough first dates that you find a reasonable number of people you want to go on second dates with. You go on enough second dates until you find people you want to go on third and fourth dates with. You don’t get discouraged at devoting three to four hours a week to random coffee dates, because it’s all part of the process. You’re doing your work so time can do its work too. (162-163)

But overall, the book—like all of Vanderkam’s time management books thus far—generally addresses women of a certain relationship/family status and socioeconomic class. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with having an audience in mind, but Vanderkam’s principles are so universal that I sometimes wish she had a title I could recommend to my brother, an electrician, or my husband, a law student. I’m sure they would love her principles, but I think the examples in her current oeuvre would be difficult for them to relate to. I also wonder how her principles could apply to single mothers or women working blue-collar or subsistence-level jobs. Vanderkam has a fundamental insight about time management that I haven’t seen anywhere else, and I think her work could do a lot of good if she broke out of the mold of her usual audience—of which I am admittedly a member! 

Building virtue 

What surprised and delighted me the most about Big Time, though, was the wisdom that Vanderkam has clearly drawn from her years of experience. In a time when we all tend to feel harried, stressed, and time-depleted, Vanderkam (who has been charting her time since 2015) models peace, cheerfulness, and, in this book, something resembling a beautiful mysticism. In Chapter 2, “Become the Ringmaster,” she pokes gentle fun at the idea of life being a three-ring circus, suggesting that if it must be so, we must acquire the skills to become great ringmasters, confidently planning and managing your own circus. Then she shows us how. 

Vanderkam’s approach to time management has always stuck with me because of its fundamental optimism about the human person and their capacity for change: rather than hand-wringing about the state of women in contemporary life or the failures of modern technology to fulfill us, she rolls up her sleeves and gets into the work. And watching her inspires us to believe that we could do that, too. 

In the book’s final chapter, titled “Be Patient,” a section heading struck me. Interestingly, it was a section about Vanderkam’s struggle with debilitating chronic pain titled, “Time is on our side.” 

“I truly hate having to be patient,” she writes. 

But the good news is that when you believe in big time, then you can afford to be patient. Whatever it is, someday you will be on the other side. . . . And fundamentally you can believe that time is working with you. (169)

As the book concludes, Vanderkam suggests that we begin to see time not as an enemy, but as a friend. Her decades spent with time have led to a relationship with time, Vanderkam suggests—one where she sees time as a familiar companion, one who will help her accomplish all things. And as we read, we start to believe that time can become our friend, too. 

Credit: Laura Vanderkam

The post A Review of Laura Vanderkam’s Big Time: Time is On Your Side  appeared first on Verily.

Neutral Base, Playful Color

Modeled by Emily Williams

I absolutely love this look from Miu Miu’s Spring 2026 collection. The heather gray mini dress is such a great color and style on all skin tones and body types, making it quite the versatile look. Here, I styled a vintage-inspired Norma Kamali Bomber 1980s Minidress with chunky one-of-a-kind beaded necklaces made from upcycled charms and a leather bag by MARAKI and lime green low-heeled sandals. This is a chic, easy, and comfortable look to grab brunch with your friends or pack for a warm weather getaway. 

A Jewelry-Forward Take on the Classic LBD

Modeled by Allie Sippala

This runway look from Givenchy is a simple yet elegant twist on styling your little black dress—the heavy jewelry really drawing the eye. For this look, I styled an Eckaus Latta dress with the model’s own black tights. This is a reminder to fall back in love with the LBD in your closet, and experiment with accessories in fun and unorthodox ways. Accessories are really the easiest way to update your look! Here, I added three large chunky vintage silver necklaces, unclasped and twisted, to create a style that’s more personal and fun. I also added a vintage leather jacket on top for more coverage, if needed.

The post Runway To Realway: Jewelry-Forward Looks for Spring appeared first on Verily.

Q: My big goal in the new year is extending meaningful hospitality sustainably – any best practices or ideas on how to build community in person? —Antonea

A: I’ve found that inviting people over for dinner can be a little daunting when you don’t know each other well (for the person you’re inviting, as much as for you), and that drinks or dessert work quite well for a “first date” feel (or neighborly equivalent!). 

I like to use the seasons as an excuse for little fun and less intense get-togethers; for example, we invited some local families to our house for a casual potluck All Hallow’s Eve party after the kids had been around the neighborhood for trick-or-treating, putting up pictures of our departed loved ones amid candles and statues of saints we feel a particular affinity with. 

We’ve also held dessert parties celebrating seasonal fruit in various months (September for apples, June for strawberries, February for citrus fruit), using special recipes that celebrate the produce that is in season at that time. People feel more able to drop by and stay for a slice of cake and a chat when you frame it as a drop-in tea party rather than a more formal get-together, and the seasonal theme is intriguing and fun. I’ve also found that when you have a theme it’s easy to encourage people to bring something connected with that theme to share, and people seem to feel less awkward about coming to hang out when they can bring something. 

One of my favorite recent get-togethers was when our family took to the streets for some caroling in December with various friends and neighbors. It was a lovely and easy way to wish our neighbors a happy Christmas, and as we walked around the neighborhood we invited people who opened their doors to listen to us sing back to our place for mulled wine and mince pies afterward. We got to hang out with some neighbors we don’t see very much, and it was also really moving to be able to bring some festive cheer and neighborliness to some of the elderly people in our community who don’t get out so much anymore.  

If we think we have to throw a fancy dinner party in order to extend hospitality, it can mean we hardly ever get around to doing it, so my advice is to keep things smaller scale and more low-key or informal and get creative with how you think about hospitality. 

—Sophie Caldecott, Creative Director at Verily

Photos by Renée Rouleau Photography

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The sun is forging 
its daily path across the sky 
and I turn my face towards it 
my shadow lands behind 

Everything that has been 
or will be 
I release

Tomorrow will arrive when it arrives 
I will arise when I arise  
but for now

I sit in a field 
between my past and future 
and I think I like it here

The post PRESENT appeared first on Verily.

You may have seen conversations about this book on social media, in the Washington Post or the Atlantic, but if you haven’t yet made time to check it out for yourself, here’s your chance to see what the fuss is about.

Sargeant’s argument is that despite our culture’s rabid devotion to self-made individual autonomy, women (and indeed all people) are distinguished as human beings by the ways we inevitably come to depend on each other. We are “known by our neediness,” and being forced to live economic and social lives in denial of this human reality is hurting everyone, but especially the female sex. Obviously, this is provocative, and a quite different take than the standard “Girl Boss” feminism that society has come to know/love/deeply resent. Spicy! This will be our first non-fiction book club read for a change of pace, and we think it’s ripe for some great discussions.

Here’s a quote from our interview with the author from the Courage issue to whet your appetite for our discussion: “[Our dependence-allergic culture] also starts with the idea that everything important in our life is chosen, and that things that aren’t chosen, therefore, either aren’t important, or are somehow suspect. When you start to try and shape laws and culture around an image of the human person that isn’t true, you’re going to wind up harming real human beings who can’t pretend to be what you’ve imagined them to be for too long.”

If you’d like to join us to dig into this book and all the meaty ideas it raises for discussion, make sure you become an Advocate or Patron member before we start this season of book club on Friday April 17. We hope to see you there!

The post Announcing Our Next Book Club Read: The Dignity of Dependence, by Leah Libresco Sargeant appeared first on Verily.

We were raised on “no means no,” bystander prevention, and the righteous belief that believing women, listening to their stories, reporting them to the authorities, despite the cost, would bring justice to light. It would make a better world for ourselves, our friends, our daughters. We began to believe ourselves—to listen to our instincts that told us a man was off, that believed that small voice inside us that said we didn’t deserve to be treated that way. We cultivated an awareness in the disparity with which men and women’s bodies were treated in a world that claimed to be beyond sexism, but that was clearly still entrenched in the belief that women’s bodies are property to be claimed by any man powerful or rich enough to reach out and grab them.

During that time, legendary magazine editor Tina Brown began running reports on Epstein’s venal activities and rotten reputation, unphased by his attempts to intimidate her. We were all, I like to think, empowered by this burst of insistence on female dignity. This movement seemed to culminate in 2017 with the #MeToo movement. The New York Times and New Yorker reportage revealing the seemingly unchecked assault of Hollywood Producer Harvey Weinstein appeared to be a tipping point.

Several women—Taylor Swift comes to mind—were undergoing sexual assault trials in the midst of a cultural reckoning with the prevalence of assault court of public opinion. I had also—after tireless advocacy on my end—won a hearing regarding sexual and emotional abuse from a member of a religious order in the spring of 2017. Later that year, to have the whole world open the floodgates, announcing the reign of justice—no more would women suffer in the dark, we could speak out, we could raise our voices—felt like a communal liberation. A public catharsis I participated in with my own private wounds.

What Happens When a Person Is Treated as a Thing

But of course, this is naïve. It feels painfully naïve, as we look back on the decade that followed. For it seems that Harvey Weinstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Prince Andrew are not extraordinary in their misogyny but simply examples of a chronic cultural crisis that has not yet been resolved. 

Virginia Roberts Guiffre’s book, Nobody’s Girl, is a sickening diagnosis for a broken culture. Guiffre, one of the most outspoken survivors of Epstein and Ghislane Maxwell’s crimes, bravely shared her story of life-long abuse, published last year after her tragic death by suicide. Guiffre’s story begins in her early childhood, as adults failed their basic contract as parents to provide her with safety and security. Her father abused her before she had her first period, creating an unstable horrific nightmare where her body was used and abused by her own father and multiple men pleasuring their own depravity at the expense of her pain. As she writes, the lesson that this taught her was not that this was a horrific crime to report to authorities, but that “some grown men forced children to have sex with them and suffered no repercussions.” This horrible lesson made her an easy victim for Ronald Eppinger a sexual predator who picked her up off the road after she was horribly raped at gunpoint by a man she hitched a ride from after escaping from the horrific juvenile detention center. 

Already, before she had even fallen into Jeffrey Epstein’s massage room, Virginia Guiffre had endured untold horrors. Epstein wasn’t some misogynist monolith; he was just one of many horrible men who treated women like Guiffre as “a life-support system for a vagina,” as Epstein put it. 

Epstein, in Virginia’s story, is not singular. He is simply an extraordinarily wealthy man with a very ordinary case of misogyny. Why and how did Epstein and Maxwell decide the sick form of self-gratification of enslaving young girls for their pleasure? That evil has no answer, but neither does why Guiffre’s own father began raping her at the age of seven. Why? Why did her mother do nothing? There are no easy answers, except a trail of generational trauma in her family’s past. Reading the story of the horrors she endured are stomach-turning and scream-inducing. What Guiffre endured “ate away at her,” she said. But, at the closing of the book, Guiffre says she is not embarrassed to speak up. It is the men who should be embarrassed at their horrific, barbaric actions. Are they?

When Exploitation Becomes Entertainment

In a recent Netflix documentary, Into the Manosphere, journalist Louis Theroux interviews several of the kingpins of this barbaric new world of unchecked lust for domination. The rise of the “Manosphere”—toxic corners of the internet, TikTok, Twitch, YouTube, encourage men to see women as chattel. Women’s bodies are viewed as little more than resources—as means to riches, wealth, and fame. One of them, Harrison Sullivan, makes money as a pimp: he encourages young men in his Telegram channel to subscribe to young women’s Only Fans pages. He tells Theroux he is disgusted by these women, one of whom performs a lewd act on him on camera, and he would never let his daughter do such a thing.

In Into the Manosphere, Theroux presses Sullivan on why he is willing to make money off these women’s bodies if he thinks that what they do is wrong: “Wouldn’t it be easier just to do the right thing? To try to be good?” he asks. Sullivan is nonplussed. Clearly no one has challenged him on this new spiritual plane he ignores: the plane of right and wrong, morality, virtue. It seems that for most of his day, he focuses on the material: his muscles, his diet, his cars, his houses, his views, sex. Theroux introduces a spiritual concern: goodness. What does it mean to be a good person? Sullivan’s conscience—the muscle that discerns goodness and virtue seems to have atrophied.

One can recognize this atrophied conscience in spades throughout the Epstein files. He has drowned the spiritual in the bacchanalia of sensuality he engorges on each day. Anne Enright, in a masterful grappling with the scale of Epstein’s sins for the New York Review of Books, examines just one day in the life of Jeffrey Epstein—the wealth, the carnality, the hedonistic carelessness and venal lasciviousness.

Susan Pedersen, writing for the London Review of Books, wonders mournfully about the tantalizing nature of Epstein’s forbidden fruit. The allure, she supposes, of a man of certain wealth and power having access to Epstein’s harem of young teenage women who, they are told, are eager to pleasure a nerdy, awkward old man. But, she points out, this sort of forbidden pastime is no longer a luxury good. The market of internet porn gives any man with a credit card number the ability to force a “12-year-old to rape his sister” across the world.

Recovering the Meaning of Human Dignity

The hopeful march to justice of my college years seems stalled at a roadblock. What will it take for men, society-wide, to see women as their equals in dignity? For our culture to embrace the belief that a person’s body and soul should be honored rather than used and abused? Virginia Roberts Guiffre showed remarkable courage. In the face of a system that props up Epstein’s associates and fellow abusers, Guiffre dared to tell her story. She spelled out, in black and white for all the world to see, stories of the sins of men against her body and soul. She said that the shame that forces so many survivors to stay silent and suffering does not belong to her. It belongs, rather, to the men who forced themselves on a girl a fraction of their own age, who took pleasure in her powerlessness and their cruel power. 

Virginia Guiffre said that if it makes a difference for one person, it will have been worth it. That is a statement of faith—to claim that a story is worth telling even if only one person is saved—a statement of belief in the dignity of the human person that someone like Epstein could never understand: that just one woman is worth a whole world of suffering to save.

The post The Culture That Still Consumes Women  appeared first on Verily.

Runway reference photo: Caroline Herrera, SS26

Bold Florals

MODELED BY Akiko Matsuda

It is not too unusual to see floral prints on a Spring/Summer runway, however this year they come back bold and beautiful. Artfully sculpted onto pieces, prominent intarsia motifs and more traditional patterns that remind of Laura Ashley designs from the ‘80s and ‘90s, florals are worn all over and in combination with even more (!) flower prints. We tried the flowers on flowers trend on Akiko but toned it down a little so that it works for her everyday life as a mom of two and ceramicist. Instead of mixing multiple prints, we opted for a subtle, floral embroidered blouse under a vintage dress that Akiko got from her mother-in-law. Comfy clogs are the perfect choice for Akiko’s days spent at her studio. She could easily swap them with knee-high boots for a meal out or a museum visit.

Dress: model’s own. Blouse: stylist’s own. Clogs and socks: model’s own.

Runway reference photo: Erdem, SS26

Victorian Comeback

MODELED BY KATHARINA GEISSLER-EVANS

This season’s runways go regal: corseted tops and dresses, skirts shaped à la Marie Antoinette, and high, structured or ruffled collars—shapes and details that have been rare in current fashion, outside certain red carpet looks, of course. We wanted to show that the trend can be worn in daily life too, without having to rule out practicality and comfort: our stylist Katharina models a ruffled-collared shirt, paired with bright-colored knitwear and her favorite jeans. The casual but fun look is completed with loafers, the shoe of the season. If you want to wear the trend at the office or another work-related event, try wearing the shirt under a midi dress, or in combination with tailored pieces.

Vintage shirt, cardigan, jeans and loafers: stylist’s own.

Runway reference photo: Tory Burch, SS26

Candy Shop

MODELED BY Rosanna Costello

Willy Wonka would certainly approve of the “Pick ‘n’ Mix” colors that we saw on the catwalks for Spring/Summer 2026: full-on looks in lime green, deep turquoise, bright yellow, and hot pink made us dream of gummy bears, taffy, and company. For this feature, we wanted to show how you can wear the trend without having to go head-to-toe, but by opting for a splash of color instead. Our model Rosanna showcases a candy pink waistcoat, layered on top of a simple t-shirt and skirt combo. Being a mother and running the Edinburgh-based houseplant hospital, Hilda, means she is on her feet all day, so sneakers seemed to be the best footwear option for her look. A little silk scarf complements the silky finish of both the waistcoat and skirt, and adds a little bit of warmth, too. If Rosanna wanted to meet one of her suppliers for a business meeting, we would recommend exchanging her sneakers for pointy pumps.

Waistcoat, top, skirt & sneakers: Model’s Own. Silk Scarf: Stylist’s Own. 

Credits:

Styled by Katharina Geissler-Evans

Photographer: Anna Considine of Studio Gently

Models: Akiko Matsuda, Katharina Geissler-Evans, Rosanna Costello

The post Runway to Realway: How to Wear Spring 2026’s Boldest Trends in Real Life appeared first on Verily.

Haley Stewart, author of Jane Austen’s Genius Guide to Life, guided our reading through the lens of temperament and character, so whether we had read the book before or not, we were able to unlock greater depth and meaning together. As Haley explains in her book, “Our innate temperament alone doesn’t make us who we are. We are given a temperament, but we have the opportunity to build our own character. If the personality is like flour and eggs, our character is the cake we decide to bake.”

In Austen’s novel, we see Elinor Dashwood (the eldest, a shining example of sense) and Marianne Dashwood (overflowing with passionate sensibility) go about the experience of falling in love in different ways. While Marianne, Elinor’s younger sister, must learn the hard way the damage that ungoverned passion can inflict on yourself and on those you love, Elinor demonstrates an inner strength and self-mastery that helps her to make a series of admirable—if seemingly small—choices throughout the novel.

The story opens with Mr. Dashwood Sr. on his deathbed asking his son, John, to promise to provide for his step mother and three half-sisters, who aren’t allowed to inherit. John promises, but then later his wife persuades him not to follow through. Mrs. Dashwood and her three daughters, Elinor, Marianne, and Margaret, are forced to leave their home, and move to a small rented cottage in Devonshire. Like in many of Austen’s novels, money forms the backdrop to the story and serves as a litmus test for her villains and protagonists.

Meanwhile, Elinor becomes attached to Fanny’s brother, Edward, but shows restraint and doesn’t let her heart run away with itself—a wise approach, as she discovers later that Edward is stuck in an engagement from his youth. In contrast, when the family moved to Devonshire, the romantically minded Marianne falls in love with a man called John Willoughby, who literally sweeps her off her feet. Marianne falls hard for Willoughby and at first he seems to return her affections. When he disappears and she learns of his engagement to another woman, Marianne is heartbroken, neglects her health, and becomes ill. The story resolves after Marianne’s recovery— her illness serving as a turning point as she grows in awareness of herself and what her sister, Elinor, has suffered. Marianne learns the importance of integrating her head and heart; despite what her romantic inclinations tell her, feelings alone can be untrustworthy guides. 

When I first read Sense and Sensibility as a teenager I thought Elinor was a little boring, and Marianne was a romantic spirit to be admired, even emulated. Re-reading the novel now in my thirties, I can see how Marianne’s priority of passion above reason leads to selfish behavior that hurts herself and others, and I admire the hidden courage that Elinor demonstrates as she rises to whatever her circumstances demand. 

As Haley shared with Verily’s book club, rather than the book depicting two sisters and ways of being (sense versus sensibility) where both must meet in the middle, Elinor actually has the right balance all along. “The perception that [Elinor] is overly reserved isn’t accurate . . . she isn’t cold-hearted, she’s feeling all of these things, it’s just she’s behaving in a way that’s more virtuous, more conscientious of others, and that’s a good thing. So actually it’s just Marianne that needs to go on this journey.”

Austen makes it clear that not only is interior strength necessary for us to make virtuous or “right” choices in life, but it’s also necessary for our happiness and true flourishing. By building up this inner strength, we become more resilient, emotionally steady, and content in our days no matter what life throws at us. As Haley told me, while they are in equally painful circumstances, “Elinor has the interior virtue to mitigate the pain, not make it worse or revel in the agony…in a way that would break her down psychologically or physically,” as Marianne experiences.

True strength, as Spanish author and founder St. Josémaría Escrivá was fond of saying, comes from “the heroic minute” of intentionally starting the day and the tiny actions throughout that make our habits and arm us for greater challenges where greater courage is required. When Marianne put sensibility over sense, Austen tells us: “she was without any power, because she was without any desire of command over herself.” She makes herself a victim of her situation, rather than a heroine. Before we can choose heroic self-mastery, we must believe that it is important to do so. Austen tells us that “The business of self-command [Marianne] settled very easily—with strong affections it was impossible, with calm ones it could have no merit.” Marianne doesn’t see the benefit of self-command until she  learns it the hard way.

Perhaps I needed to grow up before I could appreciate the message in Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. Most of us must learn, as we mature, to become less at the whim of our feelings; we discover that those feelings that seem unchangeable in the moment actually shift quite a bit. Virtue is often hidden and can seem “boring” at first, but, if we’re lucky, life eventually teaches us to admire and aspire to the strength it takes to do those “little” things with consistency. To be attentive to the needs of those around us, to hold our tongues from saying a rude retort, to do a good deed when the opportunity arises, even if it seems at odds with our happiness in the short term.

Elinor’s choice to do what she knows is right and to guard her heart from her passions, ultimately shows more depth and courage than the possibly more relatable passion of Marianne. It’s the harder path, and involves thinking of others when we might prefer thinking only of ourselves, but that’s what virtue is: a higher, harder, better path that takes practice, just like daily exercise of our physical bodies, growing strength of heart and mind. 

Toward the end of the novel when all the secrets have been revealed and Marianne finally knows what her sister has been struggling with, Elinor explains that her restraint and peace don’t come from a lack of feeling, but from her habitual practice of self-command and is she actively chooses and wrestles with: “The composure of mind with which I have brought myself at present to consider the matter, the consolation that I have been willing to admit, have been the effect of constant and painful exertion—they did not spring up of themselves—they did not occur to relieve my spirits at first.” In short, her balanced disposition didn’t come naturally, but took work.

More importantly, perhaps, Austen wants to show readers that when we allow our feelings to rule us, we become disconnected from reality itself. About Mrs. Dashwood (temperamentally similar to Marianne), Austen writes: “In seasons of cheerfulness, no temper could be more cheerful than hers… But in sorrow she must be equally carried away by her fancy, and as far beyond consolation as in pleasure she was beyond alloy.” When we are “carried away by [our] fancy” both in joy and grief, we can’t see the world as it really is.

Austen tells us that Marianne “expected from other people the same opinions and feelings as her own, and she judged of their motives by the immediate effect of their actions on herself.” Even though we might think “intuitive” and feelings-oriented people are better observers of others, Austen shows how the reverse can be true; Marianne’s feelings (disconnected from her rational faculties) negatively affect her powers of observation and judgment of character, which ultimately contributes to her decline. 

When I asked Haley about the quiet courage of Elinor, she noted, “there’s this sense of being resigned to reality… Not having to know how things are going to work out, not being in this fantasy of being able to control the future. That’s courageous, because we are all tempted to try to orchestrate our own fate and to make compromises morally to achieve what we think we want. So, to not do that is heroic on her part.”

Courage, Austen shows us (and particularly through Elinor), isn’t flashy or dramatic, and it doesn’t mean not feeling fear, or trying to suppress emotion. It is a choice that’s always available to us. Elinor is in a terrible position she can’t control, but, as Haley put it, “she does have control over how she responds, what thoughts she decides to engage in, and to come out the other side as healthy as she can be. [It’s not] a matter of suppressing her emotions so much as ordering and guiding them in a healthy way.” Courage and compassion (for ourselves and others) go hand-in-hand, and they ultimately lead us to a fuller life. 

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this season of Verily’s book club!

We’re looking forward to all the other books we’ll be reading together as members this year!

To join the next book club, join as a Verily Member at verilymag.com/membership.

“I really enjoyed the [book club’s] weekly emails and the replay of the discussion with Haley Stewart. It really enriched the way I thought about the book!”

—Jacqueline

“I was struck by how alone Elinor must have felt shouldering the burden of knowing so many of others’ secrets. While her reserve helps her process her own emotions and be more prudent, it seems unfair that she has so little support. Neither Lucy or Marianne have much sense, yet, and this immaturity costs others much.”

— Claudia

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The phrase above comes up at family parties where loved ones remind me how I often asked out-of-pocket, metaphysical questions at age four. While my father had no immediate answers to questions about my life experience, I accepted, even then, that the way I processed information differed from most of the world. 

I was the girl who’d walk around the playground by herself. I was content to play with my few leaves, twigs, and imagination. In my head, I had gentle friends, reciprocal crushes, and peaceful interactions. Who wouldn’t rather be there than a chaotic playground? 

While I grew up in a loving home, I never had a huge group of friends. Usually, the mean girls approached and “befriended” me, only to prank me later.

I accepted that I was a little dreamier than most and that the world was less welcoming to people like me. I anticipated this inevitable unkindness by attempting to please others before they could hurt me. My pleasantries became saccharine. That is, save for the few brutally honest comments I’d make here and there, seemingly out of nowhere. 

Occasionally, I’d react inappropriately, failing to adhere to social norms. Other times, I wouldn’t acknowledge dangerous situations that demanded quick action. In moments of overstimulation, I’d get coughing fits or tension migraines and fidget my fingers together to self-soothe (also known as stimming). 

While I learned to mask neurodivergent tendencies heavily over the years, all signs were pointing to a potential Autism diagnosis. 

Cut to Twenty Years Later 

The wake of COVID-19 saw an increase in self-diagnoses, particularly when it came to our mental health. When we didn’t have our jobs, freedom, or routines, we were forced to look inwardly and reflect on things we normally wouldn’t have thought about. 

I had always pictured myself as a young parent, and in 2020 (as an upcoming graduate), my desires for marriage and motherhood plagued me more than ever. I spent hours perusing dating sites and meeting people both virtually and in person, portraying myself as a virtuous, faithful, and creative person above all else. My writing had been published online, and I was able to showcase my strong vocabulary and wordsmithing, attracting highly educated and driven people to my profile. 

What often happened (in 2020 and beyond) was that I’d bend to the whims of the person I dated and go against my wishes, failing to advocate for myself. Sure, I envisioned a future where I’d be free to raise children while taking a break from full-time paid work, but what if he didn’t want that? If my hopes and needs scared him away, who was I supposed to be with? 

On one hand, as a young twenty-something, my life looked great: I had the best friends I’d ever made, I lived in sunny Southern California, and I was blessed with good health. On the other hand, I was burnt out in my healthcare administration jobs, confused about where I was meant to be, and pined for a partner who would support me unconditionally. Why was the world so difficult to navigate? 

I Can’t Be Autistic, Can I? 

It takes humility to listen to comments made in passing about your habits and processes- particularly when loved ones address your quirks. Sure, we all have our idiosyncrasies, but if a self-soothing habit interferes with our conversations or daily tasks, we may have to ask if there’s something worth examining professional help. 

For instance, one day at work my boss told me, “You know, I think you may be Autistic.” I thought they might be right. 

But, how could they be? I was a normal, functioning adult. The only autistic people I had seen or heard about were non-verbal and erratic. I couldn’t fit myself into that box. 

As I eventually learned, Autism isn’t a box; it’s a spectrum. And thanks to recent more respectful media portrayals and attitudes regarding mental health, a lot more people can admit they may be on this spectrum. 

There was a reason I could calm the twenty-one-year-old patient with the outlandish outbursts at work and why I understood when a friend said, “Can you go home? I’m tired and I need some alone time.” 

I knew I probably had some form of Autism. But I knew that self-diagnosis was not enough—I needed a professional opinion. At age twenty-five, I booked a long-overdue functional assessment with a licensed psychiatrist testing my cognitive abilities, the way I processed information, and my mood patterns. 

After weeks of testing, the psychiatrist confirmed what I had indirectly known for years: my behaviors aligned with those who experience Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). Additionally, the tests proved that I had superior verbal/word processing skills (95th percentile) and low average visual processing skills (3rd percentile). These gaps were typical, she assured me, of someone with my condition, and they were nothing to be ashamed of. 

And I wasn’t ashamed. For the first time in a quarter of a century, I felt that this lifelong need for a “cheat sheet” to life was finally addressed, and, while we couldn’t cure this disorder, we could find ways to cope and self-advocate. 

Playing to My Strengths 

If I struggled with certain academic or professional subjects (namely, geometry, multitasking, or visual memory), I was cajoled for my mistakes, often publicly. And it wasn’t necessarily my authority’s fault—our largely neurotypical world bases its views of success on passing certain tests and achieving certain results. For those of us who qualify as neurodivergent, this can feel limiting and frustrating. 

Fortunately, knowing what one can’t do (or shouldn’t do) gives more answers as to what one can do. I felt this way, and after dipping my toe in the healthcare and nonprofit fields, I knew I would not be successful or happy as a nurse, lawyer, or medical coder. But I could succeed as a writer, educator, prep cook, or mother. Today, I cultivate my lifelong love of cooking and repetitive tasks as I earn a degree in Culinary Arts to become a culinary educator. 

I play to my verbal processing skills by writing and publishing as much as possible. I hope to write children’s books, particularly ones highlighting neurodiverse experiences and feelings of isolation. I think about the books that would have greatly benefited me as a quiet child with a loud mind, and how putting more of these books out there would help other kids understand themselves. 

On the romantic front, I still dream of marriage and family. Now I know what I need, and how special I am. I believe I have something invaluable to offer, and will need a one-of-a-kind guy to fit the bill. As he gets to know me, I’ll reveal more about myself and how my brain works. He’ll support my life’s mission and goals and accommodate me without meanness or condescension.

Everything works together for the good, and I don’t doubt that with enough diligence, my future person and I will form a loving, stable partnership. 

Moving Forward 

I don’t regret any of the choices I’ve made or the help I did or didn’t receive—although my diagnosis is considered “late-term,” seeing my traits align with those on the Autism spectrum helps me to set boundaries, give myself grace, and understand people who may or may not have the same condition. 

I am not a broken person—like everyone else, I am not universally understood, and I struggle to understand myself and my brain. I was made exactly the way I was meant to be and was given my body, mind, and soul for a greater purpose. As Shakespeare says, all the world’s a stage, and all the men and women are merely players. I’m honored to play on the stage of life with the role I’ve received. 

For the women who feel their minds work differently: you’re not alone. There are resources available. You owe it to yourselves to learn more about how your brain functions. If you can, I highly recommend visiting a licensed psychiatrist or therapist for a cognitive assessment. No matter the outcome of your meeting(s), you’ll benefit from knowing more about yourself. 

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It’s an observation that may raise some hackles. After all, a whole generation of girls has learned that the proper response to such a predicament is, “So what?” We are overcomers who’ve proved we belong in the world, from spending our lunch breaks in the restroom pumping breastmilk, to contorting our bodies to use tools designed for male hands. We’re strong, resourceful, and self-reliant. No accommodations necessary. 

It’s great marketing. But for most of us, it’s only true part of the time. Could it be that the free-floating dread so many women (and men) feel may be rooted, at least partly, in this strange gap between our real-life experiences and the story we’ve been told about the absolute value of independence and autonomy?

Sargeant suggests that human beings are “known by our neediness”—by how weakness and pain tie us together in networks of interdependence. Far from making us pathetic or less-than, our capacity to give and receive within relationships is ennobling. Her approach has the virtue of facing reality head on, fitting squarely within the new wave of sex-realist feminism. Despite an array of surgical and pharmacological gimmicks, women’s bodies resist efforts to smash them into the appropriate male-coded shapes demanded by our economy. Never is this more obvious, Sargeant notes, than when women have the gall to do vulnerable things like have a period, get pregnant, experience infertility, or breastfeed.

In a phone interview, the author talked with me about her insights writing this book. 

Margaret Brady: First, could you talk a little bit about your Substack, Other Feminisms? Is your work there the root of how this book came into being? 

Leah Libresco Sargeant: Yes, I think for all my books, I always find out that I’m writing them maybe three months after I’ve started! Because there’s some topic I keep turning back to, in freelancing or other work. And there’s more I have to say than fits in a single piece. What was really wonderful about Substack and Other Feminisms is that it gave me a place for a continuing good-faith conversation, including with people who didn’t always agree with me. It was really such a blessing, in a kind of turbulent social-media time. 

MB: You talk in the book a lot about how pregnancy and breastfeeding are exemplars of how women’s bodies are so obviously shaped by, and for, dependence. 

 But I was struck by how your experience with infertility showed the same thing. I also thought of how so many companies are offering egg freezing as a benefit these days. Instead of making their systems around hiring and promotion accommodate when women are biologically ready to have babies, they work to achieve the male version of fertility, which goes on forever. 

LLS: I think that comes out of the idea that the male norm of simply “not being pregnant” is the default, the way humans “ought to be.” That something’s sort of gone wrong, that women exist differently than that—but we can fix it for them! And I think it’s important to remember, that impulse comes out of both a real love of women, and a real sense that pregnancy does blow up your life. If you think of your life as primarily about being untouched, uninterruptible, people try and fix it in a way that’s ultimately destructive for women and babies, and ultimately men too. . .

It also starts with the idea that everything important in our life is chosen, and that things that aren’t chosen, therefore, either aren’t important, or are somehow suspect. When you start to try and shape laws and culture around an image of the human person that isn’t true, you’re going to wind up harming real human beings who can’t pretend to be what you’ve imagined them to be for too long.

MB: The most radical part, I thought, was your approach to pain. That it’s not something that should be necessarily viewed negatively. Of course, so often women’s pain is disregarded, too. Can you give your best argument for why pain shouldn’t be avoided at all costs? 

LLS: Sure, and you know, I’m not a masochist, but I think what’s important to remember is you can’t avoid pain at all costs. That’s not a trade that’s on the table for you in the first place. 

So part of the challenge is not just taking women’s pain seriously—that’s important to me—it’s also saying, pain is a part of life, so are we building lives and societies that have room for periods of pain, and physical weakness?

And what really stuck with me was the story I tell in the book about a surgeon who isn’t giving major pain meds after a surgery, because, he says, the pain is there to remind you not to overstrain yourself. And if I give you these meds, I’m worried you’re going to get seriously injured, because you’re going to lose the signal that says “Sit back down!” 

And I think people often assume that pain has to be immediately quashed, because we don’t have room for what it’s telling us. Because you know you’re going to have to keep going, whether it’s safe or not, and therefore you need something that will mask that pain. But I so appreciated that doctor’s framing, that pain is informative, and sometimes it’s saying your body can’t keep doing what you’re asking of it. And simply turning off the signal isn’t going to fix that problem. 

MB: I also remember the point you made, that we need friction to be able to walk. It’s the way we move through the world, by feeling this tension. 

LLS: That’s right. You need something to push against. If you think of yourself as untethered, unbound, uninhibited, you actually have less to work with in your life than someone who has these connections that can interrupt their plans, but also shape who they are.  

MB: We have this tendency to want everything to be smooth. I was thinking about the doctor you write about, mail-order birth-control company founder Dr. Sophia Yen. She wants women to be able to compete with “those who don’t have uteruses” by smoothing out their “disruptive” hormone cycles with the Pill.  

LLS: And, I think her intentions are good, even though I strongly disagree with her goals. Her sense is, anything that’s variable will mean some parts of your life are different than others, and that makes it harder to fit into the model of being a generic human being. And therefore, she wants to help, by taking away that variability. And that’s very different from saying, “I want to be better at screening for endometriosis. I want to be better at treating women with painful periods.” She just has the idea, because this varies, because it interrupts, it’s automatically suspect.

MB: It’s just amazing. I’m sure this happens to men too, but it feels like for women especially we’re constantly treated like a construction site for editing, basically. 

LLS: I think also, you know, it’s important to note that men are sometimes asked to make a different set of compromises, often emotional ones. Women have to make physical compromises to fit into this model. But men are often asked to ignore the ways they may want to be more connected to their families, more plugged in at home as dads. And that’s assumed to be costless for them, because it doesn’t carry the physical signs of compromise in the same way for a woman. You know, stepping away from her baby for too long while she’s nursing will cause her physical pain. And that’s what she’s navigating. For a dad, there’s no equivalent of [the breast condition] mastitis to signal so clearly that something is wrong, and yet, it matters to him.

MB: Would you ever write a similar book about men? Because I think this is a message that they need, maybe even more. 

LLS: I think, in some ways, this book is a book about what it means to be human, and that women image parts of that particularly loudly. Women can’t ignore the compromises that society asks us to make, pretending to be autonomous; men can ignore it for a little while longer before they get caught. But I hope men and women both find something true in this book. 

I think for a book-length treatment of men and masculinity and vulnerability, I just don’t think it will mean as much to male readers without that sense of trust that the author has been there, too, and is writing from his own perspective. 

MB: I feel like a lot of our view around dependence is so culturally ingrained. It’s just so American: independence, brutal self-reliance. Do you see any signs of hope that our culture is open to dependence at all? 

LLS: There’s plenty of hope! Because this reality is true about who we are, people will keep encountering it, even if they’re surprised or a little upset by it. So part of what I’m trying to do, really, is to say, you’ve already started to notice this. You’ve found that sticking to this false idea of the human person costs you something. 

I have good news. You already know you’re human! You’re just ashamed of being human, or you think you’re personally failing at being human. My good news is, this is true of everyone, and there’s no getting around it. This isn’t a personal, lonely struggle, and the things that you felt were compromises you had to make are, in fact, unjust demands. And what I want is room for you to be fully and truly human. 

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