I really enjoyed this book. I think it’s well-researched, clever, and timely. It also happens to be one of my favorite niche genres (fiction about contemporary and historical women botanists)!

One of my favorite things about the book is the structure. The book is a series of short vignettes from two (three, actually) points of view. It is organized to mirror Deakin’s Flora of the Colosseum of Rome (1855), which is the book that unites the two main characters across time. Each chapter corresponds with a family of plants found in the Colosseum, and each vignette/section corresponds with a type of plant in that family. The nineteenth century character’s vignettes are written as letters to her lost lover, while the contemporary character’s vignettes are more like journal entries. I love how the two main characters’ stories were intertwined with plants—the connection to plants added surprising, and often poetic, insights to the narrative and characters. I think it was really well done (it also reminded me of the botany classes I took in undergrad!).

At first it was a little difficult to tell the narrators apart, but it was not a problem once I learned to differentiate between the modern voice and the historical voice. The contemporary character was clearly cognizant of and concerned about climate change, which I appreciated.

I think fans of The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert and Barbara Kingsolver novels will enjoy this book. I also think fans of Circe by Madeline Miller will enjoy it as well—although The Weeds lacks mythical elements, it is similar to Circe in that it is about women wielding power through plants.

Thanks to NetGalley and FSG for the ARC!

“The Weeds” is a poetic story of two women, separated by 150 years, cataloguing plants in the Colosseum. The story is told through entries in the lists of plants (and the thoughts of a ghost observing them). I did find it difficult to get into the story at first. It was hard to differentiate between the two narrators, and most entries are short, making the narrative a little choppy. However, as the story moved along, and parallels between the two narrators became clear, I got into the story more. The narrative style is inventive and the prose is beautiful; the author is skillful in weaving this strange, sad tale. It has the same vibes as “Lincoln in the Bardo”— experimental and bizarre but sweeps you along after you do some work to get into it. Overall, I quite enjoyed it and am glad I read it. I received an advance copy in exchange for this honest review.

The Weeds is a poetically told story of two women dealing with personal changes, while also attempting to forge their own professional lives. Dealing with the botanical changes of climate change, two women perform research around the Colosseum while also grappling with the sexism that runs rampant through academia. This timely analysis of what it means to be a woman in academia is told through beautiful prose.

Simpson Smith's ability to weave the descriptions of the plants into the lives of the two protagonists makes for an extremely readable narrative.

Separated by 150 years, two women identify plants in the Colosseum both working for detestable men in positions of power over them. In 2018, a botany grad student is working for her advisor, a bully and misogynist, all while consulting the work of Richard Deaver, a botanist from 150 years before, who did extensive work in this area. However, it turns out that he had help: a young woman who was forced to work for him as punishment after having an affair with a woman and being a thief. Through a list of plants found at the Colosseum, their stories parallel one another.

Initially, I found it hard to differentiate the voices of the two narrators - both were so lovely and lyrical! But as the novel progressed and their stories wove in and out from one another, it became less ambiguous. This is a study of plants, of the work of women which goes uncredited and unsupported, and the ways we like to put women in their place. A brilliant pair of character studies, though it’s almost too vague at the beginning.