"The Women" by Kristin Hannah

Title: The Women by Kristin Hannah

Genre: Historical Fiction
My Rating: 8/10
Goodreads Rating: 4.61/5 on Goodreads

“Thank God for girlfriends. In this crazy, chaotic, divided world that was run by men, you could count on the women.”

I’ve been in a bit of a book rut lately.

Honestly, life has just felt heavy (chaotic, divided, stressful). I know many of you are probably feeling the same way. Everything in the world right now seems loud and tense, and reading has become even more of my escape. Because of this, I’ve been reaching for books that are light, easy to digest, and emotionally low-stakes: mostly modern romance and fast-paced mysteries. The kind of books that let me check out instead of feel more.

So when I found myself inside a small bookstore in York, England, I didn’t expect to pick something that would wreck me in the best way. I saw The Women by Kristin Hannah sitting on a table, recognized the title from various social media platforms, and noticed it was a signed copy. I didn’t even read the description. I just thought, Sure. Why not? I’d never read anything by Kristin Hannah before, though I’ve seen her name float around enough (especially The Nightingale) to know she’s well-loved. Turns out, this book was exactly what I needed, even though I never would have picked it up under normal circumstances.

And fun fact for my fellow book lovers in the States: The Women hasn't been released in paperback yet, so I kind of love that I ended up with a signed UK edition. It already feels like a treasure.

I started reading it in the Royal Botanic Garden in Edinburgh—a peaceful, flower-filled space that felt wildly removed from the chaos of Vietnam, where much of the novel takes place. And I finished it back home in the U.S., still thinking about trauma, propaganda, friendship, and the quiet strength of women who carry everything and rarely get credit for it.

What It’s About (No Major Spoilers)

The Women follows Frankie, a young nurse who enlists during the Vietnam War and serves two tours. What she experiences over there on the battlefield, in the hospitals, with her fellow nurses and soldiers, changes her entirely. But coming home doesn’t bring peace. Instead, she’s met with erasure, silence, and judgment. The country wants to forget the war, and especially the women who served ("Women weren't in Vietnam"). The novel explores trauma, mental health, addiction, friendship, healing, and how women care for each other in a world that continuously treats them as less than.

It’s graphic at times. Heartbreaking. But also deeply grounded in love and loyalty, especially among women.

What Moved Me

This book doesn’t sugarcoat anything…especially the first half, which I found to be the most powerful. Hannah describes the chaos of the hospitals in Vietnam in such vivid, horrifying detail that I found myself holding my breath. It felt like watching history unfold in real time. I learned more about the Vietnam War and what the women experienced over there than I ever had before.

The friendships between the women (Frankie, Barb, and Ethel) were such a powerful throughline. “Women taking care of women” really is at the heart of this book. And as someone who’s been thinking a lot lately about how we show up for one another, it resonated deeply. Even when the storyline shifted later, I found myself missing those moments of sisterhood. I wanted more of them—especially toward the end.

Also, those mini-stories of the soldiers and civilians Frankie met along the way? They were brief but impactful. They added a depth and texture to the novel that made it feel like a mosaic of voices, not just Frankie’s.

The Book Feels Timely in a Way I Didn’t Expect

One of the most surprising parts of reading The Women was realizing how much it echoed what’s happening right now. We’re living in a moment where the country feels deeply fractured. A time where people can’t even talk to each other without turning it into a battle. In my lifetime, I’ve never seen the U.S. feel this divided, and honestly, it’s scary. It feels like facts are up for debate, like truth has become optional depending on who’s speaking.

Reading about another time (one within relatively recent history) where the country was just as polarized felt eerie. The way the Vietnam War divided people, how veterans were treated, how the media twisted narratives... it all felt uncomfortably familiar. It reminded me that we’ve been here before—and that division leaves real, lasting scars on individuals, especially those who serve.

That layer made the book hit even harder. It wasn’t just historical fiction; it was a mirror. And it made me think about what we’re living through now in a new light.

Frankie Deserved Better

I know there’s been chatter online (Reddit, especially) about Frankie being “unlikeable.” I don’t get that. She was nineteen when she went to war. She did a second tour. She cared deeply. She made mistakes. She had a very, very hard time when she came home. And yes, she was flawed—but how could she not be?

Do characters have to be perfect to be likeable? Isn’t it more important that they feel real?

Frankie felt very real to me. And maybe that’s what makes some readers uncomfortable.

Thoughts, Feelings, and Some Spoilers Ahead (Do not proceed if you plan on reading!)

Okay—spoiler zone.

Let’s talk about the things that didn’t quite land for me.

While the first half gripped me completely, the second half dragged a bit. I was honestly hoping Frankie would go back for a third tour. I missed the urgency, the chaos, and the vividness of the Vietnam setting. Her relationships with Barb and Ethel felt a little sidelined in the second half, and I found myself craving that core trio again.

Also... two men coming back from the dead? That felt like a stretch. Hannah plants a few Easter eggs along the way about men missing in action and POWs that it wasn’t totally shocking, but it still felt a little too convenient—especially for a novel that was so brutally honest about death and trauma in the first half.

I was torn on the ending. On one hand, I was glad Jamie was alive, that he and Frankie found each other again, and that she got a sense of closure (or maybe even a second chance). But it also felt too perfect, like it was wrapped in a bow. The book wasn’t afraid to get dark elsewhere, so that sunshine-y ending didn’t fully match the emotional tone of what came before.

I also really wanted more from the Montana ranch storyline. It felt like a missed opportunity to lean into the theme of women healing in nature and community. That part of the novel could’ve tied more deeply into the “women caring for women” theme, and I wish we’d lingered there longer.

And Henry? I was intrigued by that relationship, especially the part about the miscarriage—but overall, it didn’t stick with me the same way. Rye, on the other hand… sigh. I fell for him as hard as Frankie did. And maybe that says something about me and my own history of being drawn to emotionally unavailable men. Kristin Hannah wrote him with such charisma and longing—it was impossible not to root for him, even when you knew it would hurt.

Final Thoughts

This book was a lot of things: painful, educational, surprisingly easy to read, even when the subject matter wasn’t. And for a reader who’s been hiding in mysteries lately, it cracked something open in me. It reminded me of the power of fiction to illuminate history, the resilience of women, and the healing that can happen when we tell the truth (even the hard parts).

So, yes. The Women surprised me. It pulled me out of my rut. It reminded me how deeply stories can move us. And I’m grateful to the little bookstore in York that put it in my path.

Because in this crazy, chaotic, divided world, sometimes all we can do is take care of each other and share the stories that help us understand.