A deep dive into the psychology of the influencer economy, Caro Claire Burke’s debut, Yesteryear, explores the world of content creation through Natalie Heller Mills, a tradwife influencer. Natalie projects a perfect life that makes her followers envious: an ideal marriage, a doting motherhood, a charming farmhouse and an army of support staff. The author captures this in the everydayness of Natalie’s life: “The children were down the hall, having breakfast. I closed my eyes, felt the rhythms of my house like a heartbeat. Nanny Louise, a godsend for our family, was at the stove, making pancakes. Producer Shannon, my right arm, was by the kitchen sink, getting the video equipment prepared for the long day at work.”
The novel takes an interesting turn when Natalie is transported to 1855, where she confronts the harsh realities of unpaid, gruelling domestic labour without modern conveniences. It critiques the glamorisation of constraint and the hidden labour behind the influencer economy, particularly the way intimate domestic life is monetised.
The façade of domesticity is one of the novel’s primary themes. Through dark satire, Burke dissects the lifestyle curated by social media influencers. The narrative can, however, be read in two ways: through Natalie’s perspective and through the spaces between her thoughts. A full-scholarship student at an Ivy League university, becoming a tradwife was hardly on Natalie’s agenda. Despite growing up in a traditional household, she had other plans. But her experiences eventually pushed her towards a more conventional life. “My mother had always encouraged me to be a shining light for others. But I was certain that no level of illumination would save these women from the horror of themselves. If anything, they seemed to revel in the pitch-black aimlessness of their lives. They were proud of it. Most disturbing of all was the fact that these lost, hateful girls thought someone like me should inherently be jealous of someone like them,” Natalie reflects.
Her sense of alienation in college and distaste for what she saw as other women’s anger made her receptive to what her soon-to-be husband, Caleb, offered. A devout, politically connected “good Christian man”, Caleb becomes the natural choice when Natalie becomes a “good Christian woman”.
The novel is at its most unsettling when examining how tradwife ideology normalises restraint on social media. By presenting subjugation as desirable, such content can make it seem as though domestic confinement is what women naturally want. Yesteryear explores the mechanics of this fantasy with mind-numbing accuracy.
Another disturbing aspect is childbirth and its impact on Natalie. Burke captures the relentless demands of motherhood in passages such as: “Wake baby from nap. Change diaper. Breastfeed. Breastfeed. Breastfeed. Close eyes and count to ten over the baby’s sudden, inexplicable wails. Swallow very strong instinct to slap the baby. Ask the baby in a cooing manner what she wants. What do you want? Rock baby. Consider shaking baby. Resist urge to shake baby.”
Despite its promising premise, the novel does not explore Natalie’s views on women prioritising careers with the same depth. At times, this strand feels forced and repetitive. There is also limited insight into the internal lives of conservative women raised in fundamentalist environments. The characters often feel less like fully realised individuals and more like observations of tradwife behavioural patterns.
Natalie becomes a mother multiple times, but the depiction of her motherhood is less convincing. Her postpartum conflict, her attempts to convince Caleb to have sex more frequently, and the link she draws between financial security and childbirth are touched upon without enough depth. Some descriptions also veer into clichés. Moreover, the reasons behind her difficulty bonding with her children are left unexplored, leaving readers to fill in the gaps.
Overall, Yesteryear is an entertaining page-turner that unmasks the influencer fantasy we so often romanticise. But for all the questions it raises, it doesn’t always dig deep enough.
