REVIEW: Lessons In Chemistry – Why The Book Is Always Better

The Big Girl

Let’s start with Elizabeth Zott, the protagonist. These are two different people on the page and on screen. Screen Elizabeth is a kind of female Sheldon Cooper, socially inept played off in a haha comical way. Even if Sheldon Cooper was an early (if problematic) depiction of an autistic person, Screen Elizabeth is way off. Sheldon Cooper is protected by his gender and race. The whole world coddles him and adapts to him (also not realistic). Screen Elizabeth on the other hand, endures some of the traumas detailed in the book but appears to have a pretty simplistic reaction to them – don’t lock the door.

At the first major plot point, she abruptly switches to extraordinary physical strength and a previously unseen pragmatism. Such is the shoddiness of her but to people who’ve only seen the show, it probably wouldn’t stand out because how often are women, especially smart women depicted with any nuance? Screen Elizabeth is NOT the protagonist of the show. She’s all the convenient plot points to showcase all the different men’s natures – romantic interest, cowardice, greed, plagiarism, saviour complexes etc. Lessons in Chemistry on screen is definitely not a feminist story. Small wonder that the episodes’ screenwriting credits list a cis white man right at the top. What else would you expect from him?

Page Elizabeth on the other hand, has a more believable (if somewhat unusually strong) nature and trajectory. The context for her journey from trauma is set up in Chapter 3. Page Elizabeth has definitely been written by a woman. I know because cis men seem to always treat violence against women as reducing us to whimpering wrecks till a big, strong man rescues us.

Women definitely write about this experience more realistically, considering just how many of us the world over go through this at some point in our lives (sometimes multiple times). Trauma defines us but I’ll argue most of manhood under patriarchy is about traumatising female people. The last thing that I would expect such experiences to do is to make us trust men MORE and wait for one of them to rescue us. Understanding the brain chemicals in that situation is a missed opportunity for Lessons in Chemistry but at least the book is much more aligned to truth.

Page Elizabeth gets a better fleshed-out backstory even before we meet Calvin Evans. He doesn’t even appear till the last line of Chapter 2. This tells us, the readers, who is the person we must invest in, whose perspective we’re seeing the world and possibly, whose side we’re going to be on. This is a woman in STEM, especially in the 1950s, so we can already predict the challenges she’s likely to face. It is literally called Lessons in Chemistry. We are fully expecting this STEM field’s glass ceilings and sexism.

Interestingly Screen Elizabeth rarely sees any of them. I refuse to buy the premise that ‘the medium demands different’. Shows like Mad Men, Good Girls Revolt, and Season 3 of The Umbrella Academy are all set in the same period, centring female characters and showing details as minute as changes in body language, especially in mixed-gender spaces.

Brie Larson struts about in her very 2023 open shirt with sleeves rolled up, white tank top with bra straps showing and men’s pants with all the confidence that only a very rich, white woman going to the gym in contemporary times might. She does not even come across as a survivor of trauma. Is this a woman used to being policed and objectified so much merely for existing? I think she’d do her best to minimise attention coming her way.

This is especially jarring because her abrupt reaction to Calvin closing a door makes no sense at all. Chemical laboratories traditionally keep their doors closed to minimise disruption from external elements. This is a woman used to working in such labs (as a lab tech) among groups of men who prey on her.

We also see her steal about the campus late at night on her own with no fear. Is it likely that someone who experienced assault on campus by a scientist when she stayed back late would do that? It’s true that the book Lessons in Chemistry subverted it by not having to show scene by scene in a book. In the book, we’re forced to notice Brie’s every facial nuance.

The Love Interest

Let’s talk about Calvin now. Page Calvin is distinctively unattractive. He’s also inept in a way that we later learn comes from excruciating trauma and possibly sexual assault. The only reason he’s where he is is because he’s very smart. The institute and colleagues make no bones of the fact that he’s disliked but just tolerated because of this. He’s obsessed with his work and is content with making progress there. This touches well enough on the age-old framework of social currency accorded to smart/strong men and beautiful women. Lessons in Chemistry, the book shows an evolved couple who share mutual respect and great affection because of their shared passion for chemistry.

No wonder things happen very differently in the book. Page Elizabeth’s meeting with Calvin is far less surreptitious and more telling of her bravado and determination, while still keeping herself safe. Page Calvin is intrigued by his intelligent colleague, making him a man who admires her brain. Screen Calvin, how different is he from any other man who looked at her blonde hair and pretty face and decided he wanted to hit that? Thus the depiction of Screen Elizabeth undermines the value of even the male characters, especially Calvin.

Everyone Else

Then there are all the other characters, many of whom are really important in the book. Ever notice how female-oriented stories allow many characters to share the stage? I now believe that when it’s a single BIG MAIN CHARACTER with lots of cardboard props, that’s conceptualised by a man. Making that main character a woman doesn’t change the fact. I’ve never been wrong.

Screen Lessons in Chemistry is full of young, conventionally good-looking people. The women are quite friendly with each other and hold each other up. Black people sound highly educated, know their rights well, and can argue articulately. Citizens of smaller neighbourhoods can single-handedly challenge a panel of old, white men, deliver a stinging speech and get to have their way. Does that sound right for 1950-1960? It doesn’t even sound accurate for 2023.

Besides this is California. Don’t they have a sizeable proportion of Hispanic people? Isn’t it one of the more diverse places in the US, even at that time? Screen Lessons in Chemistry doesn’t bother showing us that, which tells me they’re concerned with hitting diversity quotas in their casting. They are not however concerned with depicting the race issues of the time accurately or with any kind of sensitivity. Being colour-blind is not the same thing as being race-sensitive.

Can we just get to the damn book??!

The first three episodes cover about 20% of the book and they’ve set up the premise very differently so my only hope is that they take a different trajectory than the book. That’s as far as the show has gotten so now for the rest of the book. Elizabeth’s journey from this point is full of some incredible twists. Some of them definitely feel like implausible good luck and that might be a comment on the benefits of being white and conventionally attractive. That said, Elizabeth is never shown to either use these privileges or even be conscious of them.

The blurb and the trailer make it clear where Elizabeth ends up – as the host of a cooking show watched by a lot of women. The laboratory is as patriarchal as most other places, one of the reasons for the need for STEMinism. The kitchen on the other hand, has traditionally been the domain (and prison) of women. It’s really interesting that this book reclaims the kitchen as a chemistry lab.

For one, cooking is all science, a thought I have about four times a week at least. I truly believe that all school courses in India should include roti-making as a laboratory requirement. The humble household roti/chapatti requires expert knowledge of materials, geometry, elasticity and heat transfer. This is in addition to hardwon physical skills of turning grain flour into a digestible, tasty meal. Secondly, a female chemist-cook is a perfect overthrow of the Hollywood trope of geeks being dependent slobs and inept at everything else.

The story highlights the inner politics of everyone interacting with the show (Elizabeth, the producer, the viewers, her supporters and detractors). None of them want to be there. Elizabeth is a chemist and wants to work in a lab but isn’t being allowed to. The producer doesn’t want his job but has to support a child (what a lovely switchover from the trope of struggling single mom). The predominantly female viewers are treated as meaningless by everyone from their families to the people who produce programming for them.

As one of them says in the book, the reason she likes the show is she feels taken seriously. It would be silly to assume that people feel smarter by taking a chemistry class dressed up as a cookery show. What that nuance suggests is that women want to be treated like our experiences, thoughts, feelings and opinions count. Whether they’re agreed with or not, they have to be counted. What a powerful feminist statement to make and through science!

I would have loved to find this book classified as Food Fiction since it pretty accurately sits there. But understandably that’s a less popular genre than Romantic Comedy, a mere afterthought considered to be the dominion of sad, middle-aged women only. I’m glad I got to see three versions of the story (the advanced reader copy, the final book and the show). It gave me so much clarity on the politics of storytelling and how powerfully perspectives, order and media can make a difference. It is a chemistry lesson indeed.