What is There Not to Love: The insufferable, helpless Juliette in ‘Shatter Me’
In “What is There Not to Love,” Ashley Diaz ’29 explores the depiction and perpetuation of gender stereotypes in popular fantasy novels.
Editor’s Note: This article is a review and includes subjective thoughts, opinions and critiques.
Tahereh Mafi’s dystopian series “Shatter Me” has been out in the world for 15 years now. As with art, its popularity has ebbed and flowed: In both 2024 and 2011, reviewers praised “Shatter Me” as a book where the protagonist Juliette goes from “scared girl” to “badass leader.”
“Shatter Me” takes place in a dystopian world where a totalitarian regime called the Reestablishment has taken citizens’ freedom — think the Capitol in Suzanne Collins’ “The Hunger Games.” The Reestablishment promised to rebuild the world by eliminating societal plagues — a complete lie used to create fear and justify controlling every aspect of citizens’ lives.
The kicker of this series is that a “plague” is not understood as our traditional sense of one, but the ability to carry powers such as lethal touch, invisibility and healing. The Reestablishment calls these individuals “Unnaturals,” and frames them as antagonists to society. And whether out of ignorance or helplessness, the general population follows along.
More disturbing, to me, is how Mafi’s protagonist is framed. Juliette Ferrars is a 17-year-old “Unnatural”: whoever she touches dies. Because of the Reestablishment, she is locked away in an asylum, isolated from the outside world. Therefore, we follow Juliette as she learns to embrace her powers and grow more comfortable with who she is.
As a reader, I admire Mafi for the way in which she portrays Juliette’s desperation and the effect that society’s rejection had on her. For instance, Mafi utilizes strikethroughs, deftly illustrating Juliette’s thought process without having to outright state it. “My parents emptied their pockets of me and left me to evaporate on a concrete slab,” Mafi writes. The strikethrough is intentional: Juliette is self-censoring herself, not confident enough to speak her mind and afraid of what others will think of her.
At Stanford, where students are encouraged to question, to speak up and take up space, Juliette’s intentional silence reflects the pressure we are trying to turn away from – the expectation to shrink so others can lead.
Mafi’s depiction of Juliette as a disempowered woman gets old fast. So guess who comes to her rescue? It isn’t Juliette herself, but Adam — a fellow prisoner who waltzes in, initially frightening Juliet because he is a boy and is afraid she might kill him if he touches her. But once she finds out Adam is immune to her touch, she listens to his every word. Mafi writes: “… his hands are reeling me in and my face is pressed against his chest and the world is suddenly brighter, bigger, beautiful.” She is shocked when he can touch her, but is not opposed to the idea. She is relieved and finds the courage to escape the asylum once he suggests it, and only with his oh-so-wise strategic planning.
Warner, Chief Commander and Regent of Sector 45, and the antagonist who wants Juliette to torture people for him, asks Juliette: “How do you know you can trust him?” Juliette then describes, “I glance at Adam. Adam, the boy who’s always defended me, even when he had nothing to gain. I shake my head to clear it. I remind myself that Warner is a liar … He would never try to help me.” Here, Mafi highlights Juliette’s naivety in believing Adam has always been there to help her, when he hasn’t. They knew each other as children, but Adam did not even recognize Juliette, nor did he wonder where she had gone all those years since school; Adam didn’t even know who he was going to find in that asylum, only that he had a mission, a mission to help the rebellion, and that was by defying Warner.
Mafi depicts Juliette as a helpless, naive girl who is too willing to let someone else make decisions for her — a characterization detrimental to how we view women in our society. At Stanford, women are taking up space — in STEM, engineering and humanities — so Mafi’s narrative is against everything that I, and women at Stanford, are striving towards.
“Shatter Me” suggests others can make decisions for you, even when their intentions could be malicious. The price is the loss of self-autonomy and becoming more accepting of archaic gender stereotypes, where women didn’t have a say in society or their own bodies and lives. The price is losing yourself because someone else is pulling the strings.
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