I honestly have no idea what to say about this book. The premise intrigued me because it sounded similar to The Power - which I thought was a great idea that was not well executed. This was less dystopian / fantasy and more like a character driven literary fiction. I thought the structure was interesting and I liked how the characters' lives were intertwined, but you also got to know them before the present time.

With that being said, if I didn't get an advanced copy I probably would have DNF'd. The author supposedly is known for satire, so I tried to read it in that lense but even then, I wasn't exactly sure what was being "satirized." I've seen other reviews saying that it was transphobic - I don't think that's true. I think in a story that focuses heavily on gender roles and "eliminating" men, trans people will inevitiably be a part of that story. I would agree that the topic was not handled delicately, but I sort of think that is the point.

I would've liked to know more about Medea and her witchy background, but I think Eva was my favorite character. Wicca was definitely my least favorite.

In conclusion, I would likely give this author another try, but this story was a miss for me.

I dnf at 35%. I couldn't connect with the characters or the world. The premise sounds interesting but maybe the story just got lost in translation.

This is speculative fiction that dares you to be uncomfortable.

This is one of those rare works of speculative fiction that leaves you emotionally unmoored and intellectually stirred. Since finishing it, I’ve been turning it over in my mind like a puzzle box I’m not entirely sure I want to open again—but one that I can’t help picking up again and again. That tension, for me, is the hallmark of truly bold dystopian literature that stands with pride in that often underappreciated tradition.

Set in a matriarchal future where only eleven percent of men are permitted to live, Uthaug builds a world that is both grotesque and eerily familiar. This isn’t simply a dystopia—it’s an allegorical provocation. The architecture curves in on itself, rituals are laced with venom (literally), and the language of liberation conceals something far more sinister. The society is seductive and sterile in equal measure, offering an illusion of progress while mirroring the same rigid power structures it claims to dismantle.

What truly unsettled me, though, was the use of names—Silence, Wicca, Medea, Eva. These aren’t just character labels; they’re signposts. They carry the unmistakable weight of allegory, evoking echoes of Puritan naming practices and moralistic literature like Pilgrim’s Progress. Just as “Faithful” or “Despair” in Bunyan’s world served as virtues, warnings, or fates, so too do Uthaug’s characters seem shaped by—and trapped within—their names. “Medea” calls forth mythic vengeance. “Silence” speaks volumes about conditioned suppression. They feel less like people and more like parables in motion.

As the stories of these women unfold—each layered with secrets, resistance, and quiet disobedience—it becomes clear that this society doesn’t just control bodies, but narratives. The allegory deepens the unease: what looks like empowerment is often obedience cloaked in ritual.

Reading Eleven Percent felt like walking through a dream that keeps teetering on the edge of nightmare. It unsettled me, not because its world is implausible, but because it’s disturbingly plausable. And yet, amid the irony and artifice, there's something deeply human: the longing for choice, for connection, for truth.

This isn’t an easy read. But for those drawn to dystopian literature that challenges more than it comforts, Eleven Percent is a mirror worth facing

Thank you to the publisher and net galley for sharing this book with mw.

I wanted to love this book but it didn’t work for me. I thought the idea was excellent. A society run by women where men are exploited sexually … this is perfect for discussions of ethics, etc.
Ultimately, I just found myself bored. I couldn’t manage to connect with the characters and any plot was essentially absent even at the 50% point in the book.
I think many readers will find that there isn’t enough happening to keep them reading. Those that do continue will hopefully find that the reward is worth how long it took them to get there.

While this book is not for me, the language (translation) and interweaving of the storylines is beautifully written. However, this book is more suited to readers who are obsessed with the power of motherhood and menstruation. It is aptly described as the opposite of the handmaid’s tale as only 11% of the men are allowed to be born. Men “have been tamed, medicated, and chipped” creating a utopia for women. The author clearly wants to demonstrate that utopia cannot exist without valuing all living things; while simultaneously acknowledging all people, (regardless of race, gender or sexual orientation), as equal and vital to society.

I only finished this book because it was a NetGalley arc. Although I am not entirely sure how it ended…
I was hoping the entire time that one of the 4 main characters would redeem the story or at least create some kind of ripple effect in their world. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Only one even considered it! Most of the characters are devoid of any true emotion or empathy even for people the reader assumes they love.

Trigger Warnings:
1. It is heavily rooted in religious trauma.
2. (Including 10-15 year olds) - The world and characters are obsessed with sexual pleasure as divine or holy, though I would not necessarily consider it smut.
3. Graphic descriptions of death and abuse
4. Animal death

I DNFed this at 21%. I didn't realize when requesting that it was a translated work, and that might have impacted my choice of when to read it---I have found that the translated works I've read are sometimes slower paced, and I was not in the mood for that when I picked this up. The writing itself was fine, but the part I read was mainly focused on breeding snakes.

Very interesting premise and first few characters but paced too slowly for my liking! Had to DNF-for-now as I prefer faster paced books.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book was released in the US by Saint Martin’s Press on April 22nd, 2025.

Eleven Percent opens with a promise: Lilith, Adam’s first wife, reclaiming power. I was intrigued. A world where the patriarchy has fallen? Where the divine is feminine, menstruation is sacred, and women are in charge? Sign me up. But the novel’s execution didn’t quite deliver on its compelling premise.

Set in a speculative matriarchy, Uthaug’s story is fragmented across multiple perspectives—Medea, a snake-breeding outcast; Wicca, a reluctant priestess with irregular periods; Silence, a mute sister haunted by the past; and Eva, a trans woman hiding her history. Men are now the subjugated class, kept in state-run centers for sex and reproduction, and religion has been restructured around “the Mother.” While the setup is rich with potential, the storytelling left me disoriented more often than intrigued.

Uthaug’s writing is provocative and heavily symbolic—there’s a lot of blood, snakes, sex, and ritual—but the narrative felt more like a collage than a cohesive whole. Just when I began to invest in one thread, the perspective would shift again. And while the novel critiques the dangers of flipping oppression rather than dismantling systems, it leans too heavily on shock value without anchoring it in a believable or emotionally resonant world.

By the end, I wasn’t sure what had happened—or how I was meant to feel. The ambition is admirable, and I appreciate its refusal to hand us easy answers. But it’s hard to follow a story when the world-building is this thin. This is one of those books where the concept is sharper than the execution. If you’re drawn to religious reimaginings and dystopian gender satire, it might spark something for you. For me, it was more confusing than compelling.

📖 Read this if you love: dystopian explorations of gender, provocative theological reimaginings, and speculative fiction that asks more questions than it answers.

🔑 Key Themes: Matriarchal Power Structures, Cycles of Oppression, Gender Essentialism and Ritual, Feminine Erasure and Control, Myth and Reclamation.

Content / Trigger Warnings: Vomit (moderate), Sexual Content (minor), Death (minor), Rape (minor), Sexual Assault (minor), Death of a Parent (minor), Animal Death (moderate).

I really enjoyed this provocative and enthralling novel. Thank you so, so much to the author, publisher, and Netgalley for allowing me to read this title!

Blurb:
It is the New Time, a time not so different from our own except that the men are gone. All but eleven percent of them, that is, the minimum required to avoid inbreeding. But they are safely under lock and key in “spa” centers for women’s pleasure (trained by amazons to fulfill all desires) and procreation. A few women protest that the males should be treated better – more space, better food, but all agree that testosterone cannot be allowed to roam free. The old patriarchal cities are crumbling, becoming overgrown; people now live in “round communities.” But if you prefer the slum, that’s okay too. Religion has survived, sort of: women priestesses speak in tongues, inspired by snake venom, as apples are passed around to the congregation. But all social engineering has its costs...

Four different lives intersect: Medea, a tiny, long-haired witch and snake whisperer; Wicca, a young priestess who excelled at the “self-pleasuring” curriculum in school and has lost her pregnant lover; Eva, a doctor working in a spa center, and Silence, who lives in an almost abandoned convent. Each will discover the cracks in this women's paradise.

Actual Rating 2.5

I was fascinated by the premise of this work as well as the cover. The work is told using multiple POVs, but rather than being interspersed, they're each given their own larger section. This worked really well, as each section introduced the character of the next POV. As the characters are from varied backgrounds, this helped to get situated in the world and with the character rather than being overwhelmed from jumping back and forth. That being said, I did feel like the characters were relatively flat overall. They were missing real oomph and development, which was disappointing, but were fine enough to not majorly detract from the work.

There were aspects of the worldbuilding that were really well done, but these were all micro-level things. From the snakes and their version of Christianity, to the witches, to the rats and more, there was a lot of rich detail added into the setting that helped to bring the world to life. Unfortunately, there was almost no worldbuilding on the macro-level, which left the work feeling ungrounded. We don't have to know all the gritty details, but we need to know some about how the world got this way, why things are the way they are, etc. Referencing big events by a title but not explaining what it is until much later in the book isn't enough. For example, well into the book, vehicles driving around are mentioned for the first time. This caused me to have to question and reconsider the parameters of this world, which is not ideal that far into a book.

Since there's not much plot and the characters weren't as strong as they should have been, this read lacked much of the power that it could have had. This is a very weird book that had some strong and interesting aspects. If you liked odd dystopian reads, then you may love this one. My thanks to NetGalley and St. Martin's Press for allowing me to read this work. All thoughts and opinions expressed in this review are my own.

Eleven Percent is a provocative and unsettling read that flips the premise of The Handmaid’s Tale on its head. In this dystopian world, women have taken over completely, and men are reduced to just eleven percent of the population—confined, controlled, and used for pleasure and reproduction. It’s a bold concept that forces readers to confront uncomfortable questions about gender, power, and what it really means to create an "equal" society.

Maren Uthaug’s writing is sharp and unflinching. This isn’t a feel-good feminist utopia—it’s a deeply satirical, often disturbing vision that deliberately walks the line between critique and horror. Some elements were genuinely thought-provoking, while others made me viscerally uncomfortable. That tension seems intentional, but it left me with mixed feelings overall.

I appreciated the originality and the questions the novel raises, especially around institutional control, desire, and what happens when the oppressed become the oppressors. However, some plot points and world-building choices veered into extremes that were hard to stomach—even knowing it was satire.

It’s a story that will absolutely spark discussion, and for readers who enjoy speculative fiction that challenges norms and provokes strong reactions, Eleven Percent might hit the mark. But go in knowing this one is not a light or empowering read—it’s dark, complex, and often deliberately uncomfortable.

⚠️ Recommended for readers who enjoy feminist dystopias, dark satire, and speculative fiction with sharp social commentary. Trigger warnings apply.

Mythological Women on Top Still Damn the World
Maren Uthaug; Caroline Waight, tr., Eleven Percent: A Novel (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2025). Hardcover: $25.06; Dystopian Fiction. 304pp. ISBN: 978-1-250329-64-6.
***
“An inverse The Handmaid’s Tale that asks: What if women took over the world? It is the New Time, a time not so different from our own except that the men are gone. All but eleven percent of them, that is, the minimum required to avoid inbreeding. But they are safely under lock and key in ‘spa’ centers for women’s pleasure (trained by amazons to fulfill all desires) and procreation. A few women protest that the males should be treated better—more space, better food, but all agree that testosterone cannot be allowed to roam free. The old patriarchal cities are crumbling, becoming overgrown; people now live in “round communities.” But if you prefer the slum, that’s okay too. Religion has survived, sort of: women priestesses speak in tongues, inspired by snake venom, as apples are passed around to the congregation. But all social engineering has its costs... Four different lives intersect: Medea, a tiny, long-haired witch and snake whisperer; Wicca, a young priestess who excelled at the ‘self-pleasuring’ curriculum in school and has lost her pregnant lover; Eva, a doctor working in a spa center, and Silence, who lives in an almost abandoned convent. Each will discover the cracks in this women’s paradise. The first novel to appear in English by celebrated Danish author Maren Uthaug.”
The concluding section keeps readers’ interest by introducing a curing syringe of blood to Medea to cure her of drowsiness, or a potentially deadly illness. Though there are grotesque notes of using a dog’s semen and repeat dog-mating references: these are a bit amusing because they are unique, but also repelling. It is also curious and grotesque that she makes an amulet out of a cobra’s tongue before eating the snake.
The opening scene describes a fictional version of Lilith’s conflict with Adam where she refuses to be inferior to him, and so God creates Eve out of Adam’s rib, so she would “obey” him. Lilith was punished for her ambition of equality by being “persecuted, loathed, and mocked”. And the premise of this story is that the balance of power now suddenly tipped towards the “Liliths of the world” who could now “decide who would be on top.” I previously wrote a version of the Lilith story, so I sympathize with using this mythology as inspiration.
Though the intro promises too much, as it suggests it is going to show womankind getting on top of men, and becoming more powerful. But then the content that follows mostly shows Medea’s obsession with her looks, and her attempts to live forever by using blood-magic. How exactly is this empowering? The first mention of “women” appears in derisive comments against “manladies” that Medea fails to understand, as they “weren’t real men, only women with silicone fakes.” Meanwhile Medea is followed by “ratgirls”: this might be something supernatural, or just an insult against ratty girls. The main feminist thing about Medea seems to be that she keeps using the blood of boys, possibly killing them. I guess a murderous woman is on top, but this is hardly radical. I guess the “boys” are still around, and only grown “men” are missing. There is no explanation in the first pages of the novel that men are missing or why they are missing. Some pages later there is a note that “men” had been “wrecking everything” and “nature” had redressed “the balance”. There is almost no action at all, as Medea just keeps worrying about some boy, some dogs, her beauty, looking pretty or not, waking, sleeping. And the lack of men has not really fixed much, as there are “rats” in “huge numbers” running around, “Only females.” What about the “boy” rats? This is all very absurdly confusing, and nonsensical.
There is nothing here that attracts interest to keep reading, and Lilith is my favorite mythological character. There might be interesting things here and there for readers seeking amusement.
Pennsylvania Literary Journal: Spring 2025 issue: https://anaphoraliterary.com/journals/plj/plj-excerpts/book-reviews-spring-2025

Eleven Percent is a thought-provoking, well crafted novel that explores the subtle yet impactful world of social inequality. The story offers a behind the scenes look at the lives of those on the lower end of the economic spectrum, highlighting both resilience and vulnerability. While the pacing is steady and the characters feel genuine, some might find it a bit quiet compared to more adrenaline-driven stories. Overall, I’d rate it 4 stars. It's a compelling, insightful read that stays with you without being overly heavy.

DNF pretty early on - not at all what I was expecting from this one. It just wasn't for me and not sure I'd recommend it

really good mystery. Kept me on my toes and loved all of the characters and what they went through on this journey. Loved that they a happy ending happened.

It’s hard to give this one a rating, because I while I didn’t love it. I also didn’t hate it. I just don’t think anything of it.

It took me two tries to get into this one, I really had no idea what was even happening in the beginning. It kind of made me change my mind about continuing, but I slogged through it. Snakes, menstrual blood and silicone penises are pretty much the gist of it.

Although, getting to see the 4 different POV’s were interesting and they way they tied in together, and the world building was also interesting, and I kind of stuck around to read more about that.

𝘼 𝙗𝙞𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙉𝙚𝙩𝙂𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙙𝙫𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮

I love any sort of feminist dystopia, speculative fiction novel, but some are better than others. Taking place in 2230-ish (my calculation based on references in the story) in a crumbling village much like something found in pre-indoor plumbing Europe, boys are institutionalized and used for procreation or trained as sex slaves. The premise isn’t shocking. It’s been done before by Christina Dalcher in Femlandia and The End of Men by Christina Sweeney-Baird—and they did it much better.

Eleven Percent had a super unique premise and definitely didn’t hold back, but honestly, it just wasn’t for me. It was really sexual (like. . .a lot), and I kept waiting for the story to go somewhere, but it never really felt like it had a clear point. I had to drag myself through parts of it because it felt more like vibes than plot. Some people might love how weird and out-there it gets, but I just couldn’t connect with it the way I hoped to.

Thank you, St. Martin's Press and NetGalley, for my eARC of Eleven Percent by Maren Uthaug. All opinions expressed are solely my own.

When I saw this was marketed as an inverse of The Handmaid's Tale, I was sold. What I read, however, was not what I was expecting and frankly a little disappointing.

I don't think I was the target audience for this book as I didn't really understand the point/what the author was trying to say. It was so muddled down with talk of snake whispering and menstrual blood. We also see a character so shamed for being a male that they're hidden and then undergo surgery to have female parts. Sexuality and sexual acts were rampantly discussed throughout the book, so if you're not into that I wouldn't pick it up.

This one wasn't for me but I know there is an audience for it out there!

Thanks, St. Martin's Press!

Probably the most bizarre book I’ve ever read in my life. The writing seemed disjointed and what in gods name was even the point of the story? That men are oppressed? Ok cool.
Was it supposed to just be a dystopian story and nothing more? Idk.