Julia May Jonas

A provocative, razor-sharp, and timely debut novel about a beloved English professor facing a slew of accusations against her professor husband by former students—a situation that becomes more complicated when she herself develops an obsession of her own... “When I was a child, I loved old men, and I could tell that they also loved me.” And so we are introduced to our deliciously incisive narrator: a popular English professor whose charismatic husband at the same small liberal arts college is under investigation for his inappropriate relationships with his former students. The couple have long had a mutual understanding when it comes to their extra-marital pursuits, but with these new allegations, life has become far less comfortable for them both. And when our narrator becomes increasingly infatuated with Vladimir, a celebrated, married young novelist who’s just arrived on campus, their tinder box world comes dangerously close to exploding. With this bold, edgy, and uncommonly assured debut, author Julia May Jonas takes us into charged territory, where the boundaries of morality bump up against the impulses of the human heart. Propulsive, darkly funny, and wildly entertaining, Vladimir perfectly captures the personal and political minefield of our current moment, exposing the nuances and the grey area between power and desire.

A Novel

Vladimir

High Fidelity

It was always that—a man could always make me feel worse than anything any woman could ever say to me. He could always make me despise myself, make me feel fundamentally self-conscious about my idiotic femininity and my pathetic peevishness, make me understand I was no match for the real power he possessed.

I wish I could be one of those women who, gracefully or ungracefully, move through the world unconsciously, with a kind of peace about their physical form. I have never had that peace, I have always felt tortured about my looks.

When I was a child, I loved old men, and I could tell that they also loved me. They loved how eager I was to please them, how much I wanted them to think well of me. They would wink at me, and find me precocious. I would encounter them at church, and at family gatherings, and as friends of my friends’ parents. They were the husbands of my dance instructors, or my science or history teachers.

Emma Hak-Kovacs

“Subtlety achieves nothing,” she would say. “There’s no room for subtlety right now. There has to be right and wrong, and one has to decide and do it fast and not worry about anyone’s feelings.”

“Your house is amazing,” he said, picking up a program of Frida Kahlo’s home in Mexico and turning it over in his hands.

“Well, it’s a document. Of time passed and things seen.”

“Well, I didn’t want to read your book. And then I was very jealous of you when I first started it. But then I realized it was very good, and when something’s very good, it doesn’t make me jealous, it makes me happy that it exists.”

Picturing them in the cafeteria, I started to view their utensils as little pitchforks that they moved up and down. I understood not only the bonding that comes out of complaining but also the incredible sense of identity that comes with discovering why you think something is wrong. I wanted them to feel that fire, that was what college was for. They were enacting a right of all young people, unearthing what they felt were the systemic wrongs of the world. It was their right to look at us murderously, longing to stand where we stood. It was their right to believe that they could do our jobs better than we could. We, who had experienced enough bitterness in life to expect flaws, faults, and complexities in every situation we encountered. They had grown up with a constant stream of global warming and gun violence burbling on low from their parents’ radios as they were driven to and from soccer or clarinet. Their lives, for the most part (at least the majority of students who attended this liberal and very expensive college), were cloaked in the postmillennial blanket of peace and prosperity, while terrible threats loomed in the shadowy corners of the larger world. They were overpraised and overpressured.

It was always that—a man could always make me feel worse than anything any woman could ever say to me. He could always make me despise myself, make me feel fundamentally self-conscious about my idiotic femininity and my pathetic peevishness, make me understand I was no match for the real power he possessed. In Texas, in Connecticut, in France, in New York, in Missouri, in Mexico City, in my kitchen, bathroom, living room, basement, bedroom, I could click mentally from slide to slide each time a man, with a well-aimed put-down, has made me feel essentially worthless.  

The invented worlds, all the made-up-ness and stolen-ness of fiction, all the characters—they felt like a meager and pitiful offering. I needed dates, facts, numbers, and statistics. Weapons. This is our world and this is what happened in it.

Inkmelt

Whenever I used to read about writers who "opened themselves to the voices" I used to roll my eyes, believing them sentimnental and overly precious. But in this moment, whether it was adrenaline or the survival instinct, I found my front brain receded and a story emerged that canme not so much from me as through me.

Nikkita

I could write more, work on my book, but instead I want to sit and stare at the light as it moves across him. I am aware of this moment as a perfect example of liminality. I am living in the reality before Vladimir wakes…The no-place-ness and no-time-ness of now. The pulsing presence of this moment between moments.

kristie alexis

Allegrachatterjee

mara henderson

She had me in the first 2/3. A novel about internalized misogyny, desire, and the stories we tell ourselves to survive. The narrator’s voice was strong, I actually loved her until…well, I won’t spoil. Deus ex machina. Compelling though.

Jess Rez

Isabella Agostino

** spoiler alert **
           Disclaimer: I read Roxane Gay's (Goodreads) review before embarking on this debut novel. The review was on point. I, too, wasn't convinced of the protagonist's strong feelings toward Vladimir, even if the narrator kept pushing this message. 

By the end of the novel, I got the feeling that the protagonist's manic feelings for Vlad were meant to be read dubiously. The protagonist was clearly angry and confused in regard to the scandal ushered in by her husband. She is frustrated and has residual feelings of guilt, all of which vanish when she's thinking of Vlad. It's no coincidence that Vlad and she are set to meet on the same day as her husband's hearing. I don't believe that we as readers are meant to extricate the protagonist's feelings for Vladimir and her feelings as part of the scandal. 

The novel is a sweet surprise in many other ways. The plot goes in an unforeseen direction, especially toward the end, and a lot of latent attention is paid to the relationship between the protagonist and food, body image, and youth. 

As it has been said before, this is a great read for academics or anyone associated with that world. Ahhh, the campus novel! And an Upstate New York one at that! Classic.

armoni mayes

3.5 stars. The premise of Vladimir follows an English professor in her 50s that is married to a man named John who is accused of using his high profile power to seduce younger women into having sexual relations with him. Yet, this novel contains much more than that. This is a story about aging today in society, motherhood, morals, obsession, and womanhood. I liked the unnamed narrator up until chapter 15 (IYKYK) and found her inner dialogue to be relatable, witty, and humorous. The lesson that I have been able to take away from this novel is that desire, and getting what you desire, does not always mean you will be happy in the end (sounds cliche I know).

Some standout quotes:

 If I lived with him, if I were his little wife, I would wrap myself around him and let that snore lull me to sleep, like the sound of a rushing ocean.

I desired them [men] because I thought they had the power to tell me about myself.

I had hoped that my attraction to him was something private, born out of a subsurface communication, an invisible thumping current specific to him and me.

We females had all shrugged and monitored our behavior, believing we were the ones personally responsible for either inviting in or keeping our male intellectual stewards at bay, or being deemed worthy or unworthy of that kind of attention. Moreover, didn’t any kind of choice, romantic or not, create a discriminatory environment?

envee

atrocious cover but BOY OH BOY what a story

Lindy

Of course I appreciate it-- its humor and gender-transgression-subversion thematic triad are very similar to Boy Parts and the narrators are identical but for being thirty years apart in age. I wish this book had surprised me more, but it was exactly what I expected based on how I've heard people talking about it.

annalyse! 

Riya

there is nothing I love more than to read meditative body of works that involve character study of morally ambiguous middle-aged women, and this book was exactly that.
I love how the author didn’t just give us a few glimpses of the narrator’s thought processes; instead she opened up a whole big window to let us peek into her more raw, amoral, gritty, and honest opinions regarding some really delicate issues going on inside her head. Although it felt like crossing some invisible boundaries while reading her most deepest and basest thoughts, it also what kept me hooked to the book because being inside the mind of a complex narrator is much more fun than reading only surface level povs. This character was not meant to be a likeable one, like the protagonist we always expect to be innately woke and enlightened. She is a human full of intricacies and complexities, that we all also possess. She felt a multitude of feelings while observing situations and people around her but never voiced them out and rarely acted upon them- just like what all the women have been taught to do for years, to repress every selfish desire we feel, to not let them out in any form; something that men easily get to do. 
While I didn't agree with her views regarding sexual misconducts done by powerful men and reading that made me uncomfortable, I understood that our narrator has also been a victim of years of conditioning . She might consider herself free from all the restraints of patriarchy but it slipped out through these thoughts and in her instincts to defend her husband first and foremost rather than a woman; that she too, has not been untouched by the systemic and social conditioning of women. I think this was what the author was intending us to think, to be a little more understanding and generous towards women who fail to act as a virtue of righteousness in the way we expect them to.
This book realistically portrays themes of women’s mental health, challenges of writing, creative process of writers, power imbalances, loneliness, ageism, open relationship, and relationship dynamics in workplaces etc.
 Another thing I loved was that, despite our narrator being vitriolic towards some discrimination and hurdles women face, she was also absolutely empathetic to them in various situations- these things made her character so rich, layered and human. 
Finally, having said all this, I must say this book started feeling quite anti-climactic halfway through, some elements could have been made more interesting; but, unfortunately, they were not.

For me, the prologue was the best and only good part of this shit show.

i don't get it. like honest to god, genuinely, really do not get this book. 

seventy percent in, it kind of bored me (one of the main reason being the long paragraphs the author seems to love). i thought of the main character as oh she's just a judgemental, self-projecting, husband-having-affairs-with-female-undergrad-students-enabler and female-undergrad-students-victim-blamer, and two-decades-younger-fellow-professor-obsessed woman. but then after hitting that 70% marks, everything started to go south and insane. i think that's when we knew she's manipulative too, towards vlad. she (whose name we don't know) and her husband are probably match made in hell (derogatory).

the last 30% served as dark comedy (i genuinely laughed at the misfortune) more than anything else. everything was going on fire (no pun intended).

i love the writing style really, that's something from this author. but i just don't get the goal of this book. my 2/5 stars not even because she's unlikeable (i would so much prefer if she's continuing to go morally bankrupt by keep cheating with vlad or something, but no, she's back with her husband, who she spent the first 60% more complaining in this book), it's because this book have no real point and (again) long paragraphs.

The book started off strong and was on its way to being a top 3 read of 2023, but then it jumped the shark harder than The Fonz in the third act. I gave it three stars on my book tracking app, and that's frankly generous.

While I understand why some readers may appreciate the novel's quick-witted and snappy writing style, personally, I found the entire book to be cringe-worthy. It became quite a drag for me, eventually causing me to abandon it entirely.

Robyn Claridge

This was a dumpster fire either in a bad or good way. I need time to process.

Jovana Gjekanovikj 

'This astonishing debut . . . I was utterly hooked . . . [by] this twisty, sexy, shocking treat of a novel . . . How on earth will Julia May Jonas better this?' Sunday Times A provocative, razor-sharp, and timely debut novel about a beloved English professor facing a slew of accusations against her professor husband by former students – a situation that becomes more complicated when she herself develops an obsession of her own . . . When I was a child, I loved old men, and I could tell that they also loved me. And so we meet our deliciously incisive narrator: a popular English professor whose husband, a charismatic professor at the same small liberal arts college, is under investigation for his inappropriate relationships with his former students. The couple have long had a mutual understanding when it comes to their extramarital pursuits, but with these new allegations, life has become far less comfortable for them both. And when our narrator becomes increasingly infatuated with Vladimir, a celebrated, married young novelist who’s just arrived on campus, their tinder-box world comes dangerously close to exploding. With her bold, edgy, and uncommonly assured literary debut, Julia May Jonas takes us into charged territory, where the strictures of morality bump up against the impulses of the human heart. Propulsive, darkly funny, and surreptitiously moving, Vladimir maps the personal and political minefield of our current moment, exposing the messy contradictions of power and desire.

I liked that this book wasn't anything like what I thought it was going to be. I like the "Back in my day" without the condescension and with the openness of learning - and no walking up and down snow covered hills both ways. I like that it's occasionally shocking/surprising, but still realistic/something that probably has happened. 

I bought this book on a whim (aka because I thought the Waterstones edition was pretty), but I'll definitely be keeping it on my shelf.

samantha lias

I liked that this book wasn't anything like what I thought it was going to be. I like the "Back in my day" without the condescension and with the openness of learning - and no walking up and down snow covered hills both ways. I like that it's occasionally shocking/surprising, but still realistic/something that probably has happened. 

I bought this book on a whim (aka because I thought the Waterstones edition was pretty), but I'll definitely be keeping it on my shelf.

Whoa I still don’t know what I thought about this. So sexy and then so…nuts

Amelia Hruby

Anyaconda

Contrary to the many divisive ratings on Goodreads, I do fall into the category that really enjoyed this novel. 
It's dark, intimate, morally questionable and thought-provoking.
This is how I like my "dark academia" - college professors, power play, ambitions and reputation. Many would describe the characters as unlikeable, for me, as long as the motivation behind a questionable act is reasonable, I'm along for the ride. I'll certainly pick up any future releases from the author, this was an unusual debut. 

Thank you Netgalley for providing me with a free eARC in exchange for an honest review.

Joana da Silva

This was an unexpected one. I discovered it because it was a Book of the Month choice and was immediately captured by the unusual cover. What a wild ride this one was! I really enjoyed Julia May Jonas' writing and was caught off guard with the twists she managed to give it. The characters are very dislikeable which makes them 100% more attractive to me. I felt conflicted throughout this book but it was a lovely experience. Beware, it's not a book for everyone but if you enjoy stories about the complexity of human relationships and the motivations that push us to do certain things, you'll like Vladimir.

Kristen Claiborn

I really try to finish every book I start, so when I get bored with a book, I’ll start another one and go back and forth. I got bored reading Asymmetry (Lisa Halliday) so I started the next one in my library queue, this one. Asymmetry was about uneven power dynamics in relationships…this one is also about uneven power dynamics in relationships. Asymmetry was unbelievably boring, pretentious, and bland. This one was less boring, but not by much, pretentious, and also bland. I mentioned my disdain for excessively long sentences and paragraphs in my review for Asymmetry, and this one is just as bad. Asymmetry started with a story about two authors, this book is a book about authors. I had high expectations for this one, if only because I was so damn bored with the other one, but I was bored as hell with this one too. Ugh. Just…ugh. 
	The main character in this book is shallow as hell. She mentions her weight over and over, to the point I wanted to go devour a bag of Doritos. She’s a postmenopausal woman that is more worried about her appearance and being attractive than she is about the rest of her life, which really isn’t going well. Her husband has been having relationships with his students for years, and that has finally come back to haunt him. Her daughter’s relationship is in tatters, because her daughter is incapable of monogamy. Her own professional future is in jeopardy because she is married to man who has had relationships with his students for years. This woman, however, finds herself singularly focused on a new professor. While this book is named for this new professor, this book isn’t about this new professor. This book is about how this woman had a pretty shitty life and it got shittier. What was the point to this book, except to prove that most of the time, open marriages don’t work. 
	I can’t recommend this book. There was very little about it that I found appealing. These characters are unlikable people doing unlikable things and written in an unlikable way.

Anabel

"The no-place-ness and no-time-ness of now. The pulsing presence of this moment between moments." 

 Vladimir  is a great representation of the mind of a(n) (un)successful* modern woman. Constantly being consumed with concerns about her looks, how they are connected to her position, and her social status - her life revolves greatly around men and their opinion.

 "It was always that - a man could always make me feel worse than anything any woman could ever say to me." 

It offers a handful of opinionated material about marriage, extra-marital affairs, and age-gap relationships. Personally, I think that our nameless narrator is meant to be both - hated and loved at the same time. You hate her for the things she does and the way she does them, yet you pity her. She is, by all means, relatable (at least to me), which makes us angry - we hate her because we are her. 

 "We know that the younger woman perhaps feels chosen, and the older man perhaps feels lucky. We know there's a sense of promise in the younger woman from the perspective of the man, and a sense of reverence for experience from the perspective of the woman." 

However  Vladimir  is not just that - it is a meditation about art, academic society, and the struggles of a modern woman, who is entirely conscious of her vanity. 

 " - if we were to give up all the obsessions and anxieties that caused us pain - then we would become a kind of person we disdained, someone content with an abstract idea of the littleness of their lives." 

This book enchants the reader with an impressive debating writing style, however, I have found the plot lacking - despite the fact that I was (literally) inside the narrator's head - I could not understand her reasons. I thought the plot was hastily developed like the writer was rushing to get to the point, yet the point has gotten lost along the way. The motifs of aging, womanhood, art, language and the art of writing were, on the other hand, presented beautifully.

 "She loved the way phrases could become solid, and then could have their solidity stripped from them, all by interpretation, all by language, language, and more language." 



*the level of her success is, by all means, open to interpretation.

The writing style featured here was beautifully poetic, and honestly, this feels more like a novel from an experienced author than a debut work. where i had problems was, firstly, there was not much character development. for instance, while the book is called ‘Vladimir’, I feel like I know nothing about this character. I understand that we have an unreliable narrator, but the book, imo, barely focused on him at all. additionally, the ‘twist’ had zero foundation, and for me it made no sense nor did it add to the story. reading the last chapter, I felt that the ending would present a remarkable epiphany, perhaps connected to one of the students whose character was previously developed. this was not the case, so it kind of fell flat for me.

Ada 

Raphaëlle

The plot of this completely undermines the me-too and in general the women's rights movements. She knew what her husband was doing and said nothing. She took no initiative in any of her affairs or relationships and let the men completely rule her life. I get that it is like her kink and all but like can't you care about women in general than just your preferences.

Also her husband, should have gotten fired but because he is el macho and a "beloved teacher" he isn't fired and nothing is completely resolved.

Brooke Barnett

I feel like the whole book was shitty.

The plot of this completely undermines the me-too and in general the women's rights movements. She knew what her husband was doing and said nothing. She took no initiative in any of her affairs or relationships and let the men completely rule her life. I get that it is like her kink and all but like can't you care about women in general than just your preferences.

Also her husband, should have gotten fired but because he is el macho and a "beloved teacher" he isn't fired and nothing is completely resolved.

Ignore the cover. I mean, what? It looks like a bodice-ripper romance, but it's anything but.

This is a story of an unnamed narrator, a 58-year-old Literature professor whose husband is the chair of the English department at a small college. The husband is accused of underage, inappropriate relationships with several female students in the past.

Into this scenario steps a new professor Vladamir. Vladimir is young, good-looking, and a superb author. And the unnamed narrator quickly becomes obsessed with him.

Our narrator is no brow-beaten wife. She lives in an open marriage relationship and does some really appalling things. But at its heart, this book is about aging and family, love and lust.

I didn't like the narrator at all but was invested until the last 40 pages. The ending was rushed, weird, and just off. But the story made me think.

Cheri McElroy


Ignore the cover. I mean, what? It looks like a bodice-ripper romance, but it's anything but.


This is a story of an unnamed narrator, a 58-year-old Literature professor whose husband is the chair of the English department at a small college. The husband is accused of underage, inappropriate relationships with several female students in the past.

Into this scenario steps a new professor Vladamir. Vladimir is young, good-looking, and a superb author. And the unnamed narrator quickly becomes obsessed with him.

Our narrator is no brow-beaten wife. She lives in an open marriage relationship and does some really appalling things. But at its heart, this book is about aging and family, love and lust.

I didn't like the narrator at all but was invested until the last 40 pages. The ending was rushed, weird, and just off. But the story made me think.

Vladimir A Novel

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