One-sentence take: This YA novel reels in teens with glitzy outfits and incisive critiques of beauty standards.
Recommended for: People who really loved the parts of The Hunger Games where they described Katniss’s outfits.
Rating: Four stars.
A friend of mine once remarked that The Belles was perfectly designed to cater to teenage girls. After reading it myself, I can say with certainty that they were pretty much spot-on. The Belles, which tells the story of a girl named Camellia who has the power to control others’ appearances in a world obsessed with beauty, is a fun, glitzy power fantasy with teeth. Underneath the gorgeous outfits is a compelling, and often horrifying, social critique of societies obsessed with beauty above all else.
I should recognize, of course, that teenage girls are not a monolithic entity, that their interests are as varied as anyone else’s, and that stereotyping teenage girls is, of course, not cool. On one level, this book appeals to a particular teenage girl, one who read The Hunger Games for the outfits and identify as members of Team Edward, Jacob, Gale, or Peeta, the Quinn Morgandorffers of the literary world. None of this is meant to be derogatory, to be clear—I am firmly of the opinion that these girls seem like extremely cool and fun people and I wish them all the best in their endeavors. (I was never friends with these girls in high school because I was an insufferable snob and I regret it to this day).
Importantly, when most people picture the type of girl described above, the image in their head is probably white. This is partly because many white people consider white to be the default race, but it’s also due to the fact that, historically, this literary landscape has been much more welcoming to white girls than girls of color. Unfortunately, the Kristen Stewarts and Jennifer Lawrences have long outnumbered the Amandla Stenbergs and Lana Condors. That’s why it’s so exciting that the deliciously addictive The Belles has a Black protagonist (and that the cover makes this very clear!) Clayton does the important work of expanding this fantasy world so that it welcomes everyone in.
On another level, though, The Belles appeals to teenage girls in its exploration of beauty standards. In the world of The Belles, a societal obsession with beauty leads to widespread self-loathing and oppression. In one difficult scene, a woman forces her young daughter to undergo a painful beauty treatment, despite her daughter’s ferocious protestations. Girls who have been pressured, directly or indirectly, to suffer through physical and emotional pain in the pursuit of physical perfection will find this uncomfortably familiar. Through the fantastical premise of the story, the author explores and critiques issues that affect many teenage girls, and likely resonates with its audience in a truly meaningful way.
The physical descriptions in this book are lush and mouthwatering, and do a fabulous job of communicating a sense of place. Additionally, Camellia herself is a compelling main character, and it’s easy to root for her as she does her best to take control of her life in a world determined to wrest that control away from her. The central romance is sweet and sincere, and I’m excited to see how it develops in the second book.
The one place where this book seems to fail my inner teenage girl is in the lack of attention given to female friendships. I appreciated that Camellia had a strong support network of other women, and that when that support network was taken from her, she felt the loss keenly. But while readers are told several times that Camellia has a sister-like relationship with a fellow Belle named Amber, I never felt like we were shown this. Their interactions just didn’t feel compelling to me. I’m hoping the next book spends more time on that relationship, because it’s such an important part of the story.
Overall, though, I’d recommend this book as a gift for any literary teenager—in fact, I wish I could go back in time and give it to myself.
Matter and Mode 