The Group was introduced to me as the initial inspiration for Sex and the City and perhaps that's harmed its critical reputation. One might assume that this is a frothy, light, gossipy bit of a novel as a result. It's not. It's densely populated and generous of dialogue. While there may not be much of a straightforward plot, and each scene functions more like a vignette, these vignettes are explored in intense detail, and feel as though they are unfolding in real time, revealing the often terrible truths of these women's lives. Some of these women only receive one or two chapters, and throughout the seven-year timespan, large swaths of these women's lives remain absent from the text. One characters' entire arc revolves around the era's conflicting and often terrible advice on childrearing. Another character has the loss of her virginity and her attempt to acquire birth control described in excruciating detail, and receives little else.

This can be frustrating to read, and hardly fun (truly, some of these women's lives are so subtly horrifying that I had to step away), but the novel unfolds slowly but purposefully. McCarthy's satire is sharp but she has sympathy for these women. Despite the unity implied by the title, and the back cover blurb that promises some sort of defiant reunion for the group, this is not a novel about female friendship conquering all. This is a novel about women being alienated—from their friends, their families, their lovers, and most strikingly, themselves. It's horrifyingly funny while also sharply sad.