For centuries, patriarchal culture imposed ideals of meekness, selfless service, and humility on women—the role of the home angel, the sweetness of obedience. The heroines of Helen Lewis are nothing like that. Their names were surrounded by scandals. They were put in prison, stoned, and in today’s times—when, apparently, morals have softened—simply mocked. Complicated, intolerant, inconvenient, and self-centered, sometimes aggressive, sometimes funny—originals, oddballs, show-offs. They articulated the implicit problems and revealed the abnormality of what was customary. They shattered stereotypes, made society reconsider gender conventions, changed the way of life, legal norms, and state institutions—for the interests of everyone else. The historian-archivist’s dispassionate pedantry and the investigative journalist’s honesty, an analytical mind, scorching empathy, and readiness to see the unflattering truth about their heroines allowed Helen Lewis to assemble a sober, perceptive, bitter, cheerful, and fearless history of feminism—its victories and its failures. Without pathos and resentment, she tells how half of humanity fought for the right to decide about their own bodies and voices, their time and income; the right to make mistakes and correct them; the right to be imperfect—being human.