This book can surprise you with its narrative, and it can also make you clench your fists in rage at the same time. The book is Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus. It is one of those wild rides where you’re deeply invested one moment, then fuming the next, and engaging in a monologue with your wall about the deep-rooted issues in our societal structures. It’s sharp, it’s witty, and it gets under your skin — not because it messes up, but because it’s too good at showing you all the ways in which the world can be unfair to women. And yet, somehow, it’s also weirdly comforting and full of courage.
But let me back up.
What’s This Book About?
Lessons in Chemistry was the book that everyone was talking about in 2022. One minute it was quietly sitting on the store shelves, the next it was everywhere: nominated for book club reads, winning awards, and then, of course, Brie Larson shows up in the TV adaptation of the book.
But strip away all the hype, and what you’ve really got is Elizabeth Zott’s story. She’s this insanely brilliant chemist in the 1960s, set in California, and her career is completely disrupted.
Why?
Because, surprise surprise, the men around her just cannot deal with a woman who’s both brilliant and refuses to shrink herself.
So then Elizabeth does the unexpected and ends up hosting a TV cooking show called Supper at Six. But instead of just smiling and teaching women how to make the perfect dinner, she starts breaking down the science behind every recipe. It starts almost by accident. One small spark, and suddenly women all over the 1960s are looking around and thinking, “I deserve more than this second-hand treatment in a world built for both the sexes.”
It’s smart. It’s empowering. Sometimes hilariously witty in places.
But here’s the thing that really gets me. Bonnie Garmus isn’t just telling a story. She’s demonstrating this time capsule from decades past, full of old-school gender rules, little hypocrisies, and tiny acts of rebellion that make you want to cheer.
And even though it’s set in the 1960s, let’s be real — a large chunk of the gender clash still feels familiar.
Let’s Talk About The Writing
There’s a certain reading fatigue that creeps in when a story circles the same theme for too long. That’s how I felt with the rowing sections. Every time the narrative brought me back to Elizabeth in the boat, my attention started to wander. I get that rowing matters to her journey, but after a while, those scenes felt like the book was stuck on repeat. I caught myself skimming, just a little, hoping the story would pick up the pace.
But here’s the thing — even when I wanted to skim, I couldn’t stop reading. When this book is good, it’s ridiculously good. Bonnie Garmus has written dialogues so real that you almost forget you’re not a part of the book. One minute you’re swooned by Elizabeth’s unintended comebacks, the next you’re grinding your teeth at some guy’s patronizing comment that feels way too familiar.
Gender Roles and Everyday Sexism
One scene that stayed with me was when Walter, a divorced father, whines about how hard it is to make his kid’s lunch because of his divorce. And Elizabeth just brutally puts it out there: Divorce has nothing to do with lunch.
I laughed, then sighed, then underlined it.
That’s how this book is different. It’s not the kind of book that screams feminism. Instead, it just subtly calls out all the ridiculous excuses and the tricky ways in which sexism still shows up in our everyday lives. And honestly, you end up catching yourself thinking: why are we still, even today, rolling our eyes at guys who act like basic loyalty is some kind of gender achievement?
The Nature vs. Nurture Debate (Warning: Spoiler Alert!)
The book also dives into that age-old debate: is brilliance something you’re born with, or something you build? Elizabeth wonders if Calvin Evans, her partner, would have been a genius even without having access to the right opportunities in his upbringing. He grew up in a boys’ home with not much to his name. Later, of course, we find out he’s the product of both his biological parents: a mother who was a scientific pioneer, and a father who — yep — rowed. (I told you, the rowing is everywhere.)
This is one of those questions that will stick with you.
Are we just products of our upbringing, or is there something else inside us that shapes who we become?
The book doesn’t spell it out for you, but it definitely gets you thinking.
Elizabeth vs. Calvin: Two Different Familial Struggles
What really got me was the contrast between Elizabeth and Calvin. He aches for a family he never had. And she’s bruised by the one that failed her. In a way, they’re both a bit battered. Both are just trying to find somewhere they fit.
And their relationship is not your typical romance. This is two brilliant minds crashing into each other (she describes it as the Big Bang), and somehow they are making it work. It’s love, but it’s also this deep, unexplained connection — which honestly makes it even better.
A Cultural Mirror: 1960s, Or… Feels like Yesterday?
The cultural notes in this book are brutally spot-on. Women being treated like baby factories. Men getting away with cheating and sexual assault, with no consequences in sight. Part of me wants to just call it outdated and move on. But if I’m honest, it’s really just the same old problems dressed up in new clothes. As I read, I kept bouncing between feeling thankful for how far we’ve come and frustrated that we’re still stuck with so much of the same nonsense as before.
The Science and Faith Debate
One of the best surprises in the book is the friendship between Calvin and Wakely. Their relationship is portrayed through letters written to each other via distance, with debates about God vs. science extending into deeply personal narrations of Calvin’s life. The fact that they never meet in person after their first encounter and yet form an unusual bond is sublime. It’s beautifully done, and a reminder that faith and science don’t always have to be in conflict. Sometimes they can sit at the same table and argue respectfully.
And can we just take a second to appreciate how rare it is to see a male friendship written so beautifully? Full of real and thoughtful conversation. I loved every bit of it.
Another mic-drop moment to consider when we talk about the science and faith debate is one with Madeline Zott. If there’s one character who steals the show (besides Elizabeth), it’s her daughter. There’s a line where Mad says, “Religion is based on faith. Faith is not based on religion. That is exactly the kind of line I would like to keep coming back to. And this book is packed with those moments. Little sentences that make you pause, reread, and just sit there thinking.
Fame, Fake Rumors, and The Parasocial Effect
Another thread in the story deals with Elizabeth’s fame. Once she’s on TV, she attempts to keep Madeline away from the world that she tackles every day. Harriet, her neighbor and friend, explains it perfectly: when you’re famous, people like to believe they know you, so they invent narratives to feel connected to you. This is something that Elizabeth wants to protect her daughter from.
Tell me that doesn’t sound exactly like what happens with Instagram influencers in today’s world. And the world of fame is getting even wider today, exposing more and more people to this phenomenon. It’s wild how a story set sixty years ago nails the same weird, one-sided connections we’re still tangled up in.
Women, Their Bodies and The Market of Insecurity
There’s also this quick but pointed look at body image.
The book shows how women are always being told they’re not enough — by ads, by magazines, through unrealistic comparison, by the never-ending diet industry. Bonnie Garmus doesn’t dwell on it, but you get the message: that someone is always making money off women feeling bad about themselves and their bodies. The diet pill culture and the world telling women how to look has not changed much over the decades.
Ending Notes
What blew me away most was how Bonnie Garmus nails both sides of every argument, the chauvinist side as well as the feminist side. The conversations feel so real, it’s hard to tell that one person has drafted both the male and the female perspectives in this book. For a first novel, that’s seriously impressive.
The book’s cultural critique, humor, and sheer emotional power won me over. By the end, I wasn’t just reading a novel. I was holding up a mirror to the society, one that made me laugh, made me angry, and made me hopeful all at once.
Lessons in Chemistry isn’t just about a chemist who ends up on TV. It’s about how women have always been more than the boxes they’re put in. It’s about how science and faith can actually talk to each other. It’s about how culture shapes us in sneaky ways. And how, sometimes, making dinner is actually a tiny act of rebellion.
So yes, read it. Even if you end up skimming a few parts.
