Charlotte Wood didn't just write a novel when she released The Natural Way of Things; she basically tapped into a collective, jagged nerve that hasn't stopped throbbing since the book first hit shelves. It’s a brutal read. Honestly, there’s no other way to put it. If you’re looking for a cozy afternoon escape with a cup of tea, this isn't the book for you. But if you want to understand the visceral, terrifying reality of how society treats women who become "inconvenient," this is the essential text of the modern era.
I remember the first time I picked it up. The cover was deceptively simple, but the prose inside? It felt like being grabbed by the throat. The story follows two women, Yolanda and Verls, who wake up in a hijacked, dilapidated station in the middle of the Australian outback. They aren't alone. There are eight other women there, all of whom have been involved in high-profile sex scandals. They’ve been drugged, kidnapped, and imprisoned. No trial. No explanation. Just a harsh, sun-bleached purgatory where they are forced to wear hard-wearing shifts and perform grueling manual labor under the watch of two incompetent, cruel men.
The Actual Horror of the Premise
The genius of The Natural Way of Things book isn't just in the kidnapping plot. It's the "why." These women aren't criminals in the legal sense. They are victims of "slut-shaming" taken to its most extreme, logical conclusion. One was involved with a politician. Another with a high-profile athlete. In the eyes of the public—and the mysterious "Hardings" corporation that runs the facility—their presence in society had become a nuisance. So, they were erased.
It feels like a dystopia, right? Kinda like The Handmaid’s Tale. But Wood has been very vocal in interviews about how she didn't view this as sci-fi or a far-off future. She drew directly from real-world events. Think about the way the media handled the Hayne Plane scandals in Australia or the treatment of Monica Lewinsky. Wood took that media vitriol and gave it a physical location. She turned the metaphorical "social exile" into a literal prison.
The setting is a character itself. The heat is stifling. You can almost feel the grit under your fingernails while reading. The isolation isn't just about being far from a city; it’s about the psychological realization that nobody is coming to save you because, to the rest of the world, you’ve already been "canceled" out of existence.
Why The Natural Way of Things Book Diverges from Typical Dystopia
Most dystopian novels follow a hero's journey. There's a rebellion, a Katniss Everdeen figure, a clear path to burning the system down. Wood doesn't give us that. Instead, she gives us something much more honest and, frankly, much more depressing: the way victims turn on each other.
In the beginning, the women are divided. They judge each other. They use the same language the tabloid media used against them. "I’m not like her," they think. "She deserved it; I didn't." This internal horizontal hostility is the most painful part of the book to witness. It’s a masterclass in showing how patriarchy doesn't just come from the guys with the guns; it gets inside the heads of the people being oppressed.
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The writing style helps drive this home. Wood’s sentences are sharp. Bony. She strips away the fluff. You get these long, descriptive passages of the physical labor—digging holes, clearing scrub—interspersed with short, punching realizations.
- Yolanda is the fighter. She’s feral. She represents the survival instinct that sheds "civilized" ladyhood to stay alive.
- Verls is the consciousness. She sees the patterns.
Their relationship is the heartbeat of the story. It’s not a simple friendship. It’s a desperate, messy tethering.
Real-World Connections and Critical Reception
When the book won the Stella Prize and the Prime Minister's Literary Award, it sparked a massive conversation in Australia and abroad. Critics at The Guardian and The New York Times pointed out how the book anticipated the #MeToo movement by a couple of years. It’s prophetic in a way that feels uncomfortable.
The title itself, The Natural Way of Things, is a biting piece of irony. It refers to the justifications men in the book use for their cruelty. They claim they are just following "nature," that women have a "natural" place, and that power dynamics are just "the way things are." Wood deconstructs this by showing how unnatural and manufactured this prison truly is. It takes a massive amount of infrastructure and corporate funding to keep these women "in their place."
There’s a specific scene involving a sheep—no spoilers here—but it’s one of the most harrowing metaphors for the female body in contemporary literature. It’s the kind of imagery that stays with you for years. It’s not just gore for the sake of shock; it’s a commentary on the commodification of flesh.
The Psychological Toll of the Outback Setting
The Australian outback is often romanticized as a place of freedom and "the bushman" spirit. Wood flips that on its head. Here, the vastness is a cage. You can walk for days and only find more red dirt and dead wood. The guards, Boncer and Teddy, are pathetic characters. They aren't mastermind villains. They are mediocre men given absolute power, which is arguably more terrifying.
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Teddy is particularly interesting because he’s "the nice one." He’s the guy who thinks he’s a good person even while he participates in a kidnapping. He wants the women to like him. This explores the "Nice Guy" trope in a way that feels incredibly relevant to current social discourse. It’s a reminder that complicity doesn't always wear a scowl.
Addressing the Misconceptions
Some people go into The Natural Way of Things book expecting a thriller. If you want a fast-paced escape room story, you might be disappointed. This is a literary exploration of trauma and the shedding of identity. The "ending"—which I won't give away—is divisive. Some find it hallucinatory or strange. I think it’s the only way the book could have ended. It’s a transition from the physical world to something more elemental.
It’s also not a "man-hating" book, though it’s often lazily categorized that way by people who haven't read it. It’s a "system-hating" book. It looks at the structures that allow men like Boncer to exist and the corporations that profit from the silencing of women.
Actionable Takeaways for Readers and Book Clubs
If you’re planning to tackle this one, or if you’ve already read it and are still reeling, here is how to actually process the depth of Wood's work:
Read it alongside the news. To truly see the "E-E-A-T" (Experience, Expertise, Authoritativeness, Trustworthiness) of Wood's narrative, look up the "Slipper and Ashby" case or the "St Kilda schoolgirl" scandal in Australia. Seeing the real-life headlines that inspired the fictional tragedies makes the book hit twice as hard.
Analyze the language of "The Company." Pay attention to how the captors speak. They use corporate jargon—"efficiency," "management," "protocol." It’s a chilling look at how bureaucracy can be used to mask human rights abuses. This is a great lens for a book club discussion.
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Compare the two protagonists. Track the trajectory of Yolanda versus Verls. One moves toward the animalistic; the other moves toward a cold, hard clarity. They represent two different ways of surviving the "un-survivable."
Check out Charlotte Wood’s other work. If you finish this and need something a bit more grounded (but still sharp), her later book The Weekend explores female friendship in old age. It shows her range. She’s not just a "grim" writer; she’s a precise observer of how women navigate the world.
Don't rush the ending. The final third of the book shifts in tone. It becomes more lyrical, almost surreal. Let it happen. Don't try to force it back into the "prison break" genre. It’s moving toward a point about the reclamation of the body that transcends the plot.
The impact of The Natural Way of Things hasn't faded. In an era of deepfakes, revenge porn, and the constant digital surveillance of women’s bodies, Wood’s "fable" feels more like a documentary every day. It’s a hard book. It’s a necessary book. It’s a mirror that refuses to let us look away from the things we’d rather ignore.
How to approach the text today
Start by acknowledging the discomfort. If you're a writer, study Wood's use of sensory detail—how she uses the smell of old water and the feel of rough fabric to anchor a scene. If you're a reader, give yourself space after the final page. You'll need it. The book doesn't offer easy answers or a "happily ever after," but it offers a profound sense of truth. It's about the moment a woman stops caring about being "good" and starts focusing on being free. That shift is where the real power of the story lies.