I am thrilled to be hosting a spot
on the THE WILLING by Lindsay Lees Blog Tour hosted by Rockstar Book Tours. Check out
my post and make sure to enter the giveaway!
About The Book:
Author: Lindsay Lees
Pub. Date: June 14, 2021
Publisher: Lindsay Lees
Formats: Paperback, eBook
Pages: 299
Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, B&N, iBooks, Kobo
To Escape a Fully Controlled "Utopian" City-State, There Is Only One Way Out — To Single-Handedly Confront This Scary and Absurd World.
In less than a year, fifteen-year-old Gypsy Capone will be considered a woman
in Ovoidia, a “utopian” city-state where every woman can be approached for
immediate sex by any man, where curving architecture adds weird whimsy, sporks
are the only cutlery, and true intimacy between the genders is a sign of
suspect subversion. After all, if a woman just plays along, she’ll also do her
job and have children, with the reward of a fine home in the “Communities,”
where she and the other “Mamas” live together in harmony with everything they
need. Right?
The irony: Diam and Isis, the two
leaders of Ovoidia, are themselves females. Fun, yes! And just below the
surface, perversely sinister. They personally execute these precise sacrifices
by women to establish their “happy,” absurdly totalitarian utopia, and are
backed up by their chosen army of male “crusaders,” enforcing a crime-free,
fully controlled society.
Men are relegated to work in the
“City” where they may “enjoy”—right there on the street if they wish—any woman
they want and are welcome to satisfy their sexual and emotional needs at
establishments called Gaje Clubs where only the most “gifted” among women are
chosen to work.
Not surprisingly, in Ovoidia women
have evolved until they feel nothing of sexual pleasure. But in Gypsy’s deepest
heart, she realizes her own dark secret: she is the exception. Next, she
discovers to her horror that her secret, if known, could result in the ultimate
punishment—genital mutilation.
To save her body and even her soul,
Gypsy chooses a dangerous path—to single-handedly confront this scary and
absurd world. She has the support of her allegiant sister Sadie and Miles
Devine, a rogue, secretly gay crusader, and also “Doctor,” a morally
questionable physician to help her. But none of them fathom the levels of
paradox, incongruity, and twisted evil they will soon face, and the ride
becomes something even Gypsy could have never imagined.
Can Gipsy Survive this Fully
Controlled “Utopian” City-State?
Disclaimer: The Willing may contain triggering and/or sensitive material.
Sexual violence, human trafficking, sexual assault and abuse are topics
mentioned in the book.
Review:
“The Willing is an unusually deep commentary on a malignant dysfunction in our
society, dressed in fishnet utopian stockings. While the premise and its
sensual details push the boundaries of belief, a community that is ostensibly
focused on the greater good but is governed by fear and hypocrisy fits
perfectly in the dystopian genre. Gypsy's character is flawed and immature in
many ways, but her shield-like honesty is refreshing among a sea of conformists.
A rather feminist piece filled with satire on the state of equality, The
Willing is weighty and serious in its message, and sad in its reflection of how
women are treated in our modern world. For a change from the norm, Lindsay Lees
provides a gripping story that will have you thinking deeply about the
importance of the relationships in your life.”--Jennifer Jackson
IndiesToday.com
Excerpt:
‘The
Willing’: Chapter 1
Gypsy
Three shrill
bells blasted through the hidden speakers in the shiny ceiling tiles. A warning.
Five minutes later, another three shrills will announce everybody’s butts
better be in their chairs.
Gypsy took a seat in the front row of the dark, stifling auditorium for her
Life Science class and wiped the sweaty auburn hair off her neck. Every time
she entered the steamy classroom, she considered chopping off her hair, but
didn’t dare go through with it, in fear of what everyone would say. Stagnant
air lingered near an open oval window. Gypsy smoothed her denim shift against
her bare legs. The sweat was everywhere. The heat had only gotten worse that
year. The whole country sizzled like a frying pan on a burner without a high
point.
Gypsy slid her right hand under her desk and stroked the round screws. She was
in year ten of Passage school—her second-to-last year—but she had stopped
paying attention when the Madams began the boring task of preparing the girls
for life as women in the Communities. Life Science consisted of learning and
drilling domestic life hacks and mothering skills.
Next to the whiteboard, a laminated poster of the Head Gaje family tree
depicted the original Gajes—six desultory faces with deep creases around their
rage-filled eyes. As the generations progressed, the Head Gajes began to look
more their age, skin less ravaged, eyes less resentful. The current Heads, with
the open-ended parentheticals under their busts, were on the bottom
row—laughing, mouths splayed open, and lips the shiniest shade of red.
Above the poster, Gypsy noticed several new banners on the wall. The Head Gajes
didn’t normally use colorful language or curse words to empower the women of
Ovoidia, but this read, in upper case letters:
—Put Peace Between Your Legs—
—A KINDER, SAFER COUNTRY:
Thanks to Our Cunts—
—SEX: Just Say YES!—
Sweat moistened Gypsy’s palms. She rubbed her hands down her chest to try to
dry them off. Her boobs weren’t the biggest in the class, but they were close.
She came from a big-boob family. Grandmama Goyma’s cleavage was a sight to
behold, but most of the time, Gypsy wished Goyma would just put ‘em away.
Gypsy’s bust made her hips appear narrow and out of proportion with her legs,
which were thin, undefined, and in need of a tan. A handful of laminated
brochures circulated around the room. Gypsy turned the shiny pamphlet over in
her hands and sighed at the cover image of her house. Well, not her house
specifically, but rather a standard “Communities” home. The drone’s angle
offered a bird’s-eye view of a headless snowman, and Gypsy imagined it melting
into a staircase ribcage. The brochure was titled: Welcome to the Communities:
Living the Ovoidian Dream
Gypsy squeezed the pamphlet quickly into a wrinkled mess, surprising even her.
Madame Adel stepped in front of the room, her denim shift hanging below her
knees, her voice already rattling on about the silly brochure. She wore thick
cotton socks pulled up below the hem of her shift, revealing a hedgehog strip
of black leg hairs. Gypsy thought Madame Adel dressed as though actively
engaged in repelling men. The anti-Gaje. And she wondered how well her efforts
worked.
Then she glanced at all the phonies around her with their stoic expressions,
pursed lips, and suspicious eyes. Practically carbon copies of Madame Adel’s
perennial sour face. As far as Gypsy knew, Madame Adel only had one daughter,
Vegas, who had just turned sixteen and gone straight to the City for higher
education, a career, or if that failed, a baby. Gypsy tried to drown out Madame
Adel’s diligent explanation of the brochure for the new homes that would be
available next year, when the girls in the class would make the passage into
women, and then mothers.
Gypsy watched the other girls ogle at the glossy images. They were holding
their future in their hands, and it was the first time anyone had seen the
upgrades. Previous upgrades had included a massage chair and pinball machine;
the most recent came with a tanning bed. Gypsy knew Grandmama Goyma wasn’t
pleased she missed out on that one.
Gypsy
watched the other girls ogle at the glossy images. They were holding their
future in their hands, and it was the first time anyone had seen the upgrades.
Gypsy raised her hand, but Madame Adel wasn’t looking her way, so she held it
up until Madame Adel finally noticed her. “A question?” she asked.
“When are they going to turn the air-conditioning back on?” Gypsy asked,
fanning herself with the brochure.
“Due to the heat,” Madame Adel said, “between the hours of eleven and three,
the lights and air-conditioning will be temporarily turned off in the
Communities to conserve energy. It’s a recent decision by the Head Gajes but
they say it shouldn’t last long.” Madame Adel stepped in front of Gypsy and
clasped her brochure. “And,” she said, “this is not a fan, please stop using it
as such.”
“But I’m melting here,” Gypsy said, wiping droplets off her face and displaying
her damp fingers to Madame Adel.
“I’ve had enough of your complaining, Gypsy,” Madame Adel said, and folded her
arms. “You’re only required to be here for four hours a day, three days a week.
That’s it! You’re long past the arduous twelve-hours a day, six days a week of
Formation school, unlike your male counterparts, and yet you still are
unsatisfied …”
Gypsy turned her face away and tried to ignore Madame Adel. She didn’t need to
hear a lecture about how much better things were since she’d graduated into the
Passage school back when she was eleven. Madame Adel still wasn’t finished with
her lecture when Gypsy tuned back in.
“… these are not difficult lessons, Gypsy,” Madame Adel said. “Would you prefer
to spend your long days with the children in the Formation School filling in
the coloring books of families being held up at gun point, and depraved
monsters brandishing assault rifles and shooting-up preschools?” Madame Adel
walked to her white, oval desk, pulled open the drawers and started rifling
through paperwork. “Because that can be arranged for you, or perhaps you’d
prefer a refresher course during detention, where together, we can go over some
of the history of Pre-Ultimate Revolution murderers. I’d love to hear what you
remember about the horrors of Hitler, Stalin, and Mao.” Madame Adel pulled out
a thick history book complete with full-page illustrations and slammed it on
the desk.
Gypsy remembered the text from her early history lessons. By the time students
completed their formative education, they understood that the world outside of
Ovoidia was filled with monsters. Only, to Ovoidian children, monsters were
real people.
“No, Madame Adel,” Gypsy said. “I’ll be quiet and listen.”
“I’m so glad to hear it,” Madame Adel said, and turned to face the class. “Now
open your brochures and we’ll go through them together.”
Gypsy opened her brochure to a young Ovoidian woman with harp-shaped cheekbones
and buttery skin, holding two babies on her narrow hips. In the picture, she
held a set of keys in the air and had the biggest smile Gypsy had ever seen.
Gypsy quickly skimmed the text and flipped it over, looking for an answer to a
question she’d been wondering. Unable to find the information, she raised her
hand and when Madame Adel noticed her, she asked, “What if I want to live by
myself?”
The class giggled.
“Communities’
homes are reserved for women with children,” Madame Adel said, clearly
unamused. “You know this, Gypsy. If you want to live alone there’s always the
City. I’m sure the new Head Gajes have made it much nicer for all the new women
they’re expecting.”
“That’s not fair though,” Gypsy said. “What if I can’t get pregnant? There
could be something wrong with my uterus.” She stared at her navel and shrugged.
“I don’t know yet, and then I’d never be allowed a home in the Communities?”
“Come now, Gypsy.” Madame Adel said, wiping the sweat from her upper lip. “The
chances of that happening are slim to none. Ovoidian women are extremely
fertile.” Madame Adel rolled her shoulders. “But, if that is the case, the City
does provide housing for women, including barren women. There’s really no need
to be paranoid though. You’ll have ample opportunities to get pregnant and most
of the time, it occurs much faster than you intend.”
Gypsy wasn’t concerned that getting pregnant was going to be a challenge. She
had entered the last year of her childhood and began to wonder how mature those
girls really felt the first time they were approached.
Then she thought of Sadie, and Madame Adel’s voice slowly faded to mute. On
Monday, her older sister would turn sixteen and become a woman. In Ovoidia, the
day a girl becomes a woman, she travels to the City alone for the first time.
It wasn’t meant to be a ceremonious occasion; girls were introduced to their
purpose every day.
But Sadie wasn’t just visiting the City. She was one of the new women moving
there, and even though Gypsy wasn’t supposed to be worried, she kept coming
back to an image that made her stomach sick—a white-domed luxury car, the
driver pulling Sadie down a dark alley, a lifted shift, cold marble, supple
flesh.
She hadn’t noticed her reverie until Madame Adel slapped a brochure against her
palm and finished her lesson, as always, with the same admonition. “A woman’s
body is her most trivial sacrifice,” she said with purpose. “You can love
anyone as long as you serve your country.”
© 2021 Lindsay Lees
About Lindsay Lees:
Lindsay Lees
is originally from Los Angeles. She holds dual citizenship in the United States
and the United Kingdom, and while growing up and later in college, she split
her time between the two countries.
Lindsay
earned a B.A. in 2008 from Manchester Metropolitan University, and next an
M.F.A. in Creative Writing from California College of the Arts. The Willing is Lindsay’s
debut novel. She currently lives a quiet Southern life with her husband and a
houseful of pets.
Website | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub
Giveaway Details:
1 winner
will receive a $20 Amazon Gift Card, International.
Ends November 5th, midnight EST.
a Rafflecopter giveawayTour Schedule:
Week One:
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10/3/2022 |
Excerpt |
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10/4/2022 |
Excerpt |
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10/5/2022 |
Guest Post |
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10/6/2022 |
IG Spotlight |
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10/7/2022 |
Review/IG Post |
Week Two:
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10/10/2022 |
Guest Post/IG Post |
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10/11/2022 |
Review/IG Post |
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10/12/2022 |
IG Review |
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10/13/2022 |
IG Spotlight |
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10/14/2022 |
IG Review |
Week Three:
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10/17/2022 |
Review/IG Post |
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10/18/2022 |
Review/IG Post |
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10/19/2022 |
Guest Post /IG Post |
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10/20/2022 |
Guest Post or Excerpt |
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10/21/2022 |
IG Review |
Week Four:
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10/24/2022 |
Review |
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10/25/2022 |
Review/IG Post |
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10/26/2022 |
Review |
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10/27/2022 |
IG Review |
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10/28/2022 |
Review/IG Post |
Week Five:
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10/31/2022 |
IG Review |
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