REVIEW: Rouge
My sister used to dream about standing in front of her fluorescently-lit bathroom mirror, squeezing the tender skin on her nose until pomegranate seeds popped from her pores with a soft sucking sound. I regularly wake from uneasy nightmares about my now-clear skin being pocked with the cystic acne that so plagued me in my teenage years. Serums and oils and skin cycling and Aztec clay face masks and Dr. Pimple Popper and blood facials and Botox and the clean girl aesthetic and glass skin all cycle through my sleeping brain that has been rotted in the name of Revealing My True Beauty. Spend any significant time hyper-fixating on one activity and it’s no surprise it unfolds in your unconscious mind.
Skincare feels like witchcraft. In the privacy of my bathroom I can apply sweet-smelling potions to my eager skin and, if the serums agree with my sensitive complexion, I can expect to Watch My Pores Disappear! and Kiss Fine Lines Goodbye! and Finally Learn to Be Loved! Women especially are expected to have the pigmentation and skin texture of a newborn babe. Mona Awad’s newest novel, Rouge, follows a skincare-obsessed, grief-riddled woman who deals with her mother’s unexpected death by inheriting her skincare routine.
Awad’s previous novels, Bunny and All’s Well use unreliable narration, bizarre characters, and storybook, fairytale references to create a sense of distrust between the narrator and the reader, and Rouge is no different. We are left to decide for ourselves if what’s happening is borne from magic or from delusion. Awad’s heavy-handedness is a constant in her novels, and tragically I think that pulled me away from the story, especially at the beginning, where it felt like the book could go twenty different ways. Skincare and women’s horror is such an exciting duo for me and I had high expectations that were not quite met.
Regardless, horror often reflects what is going on in the world around us. Rouge’s narrator is Mirabelle, a young, self-hating woman with a fervent obsession with skincare. Her constant inner monologue reflects the larger societal desire to be beautiful while also fearing what happens to beautiful people. The myth of Persephone is referenced over and over again — she, too, becomes lost in the dark underbelly because of her desire for beauty and freshness she finds in (so similar to my sister’s dream) pomegranate seeds.
The pursuit of beauty means the eradication of anything unpalatable, unpleasant, and ugly that threatens the universal perfection of clear skin and bright eyes. While always striving for clearer skin, fewer wrinkles, smaller pores, we don’t have time to think about what the end goal is. Do we want to be reborn? Unborn? Do we just want to be liked? Being ugly in this day and age is a cardinal sin. With all the ways to beautify ourselves, we have become very uncomfortable with anyone who chooses not to conform to the cult of skincare. Even if one’s efforts don’t result in Beauty, the important part is participation. So let’s tape our mouths shut while we sleep, let’s get painful chemical peels, let’s get vitamin D deficiencies from staying out of the sun. Let’s be beautiful together!
RATING: ☆☆☆✬