What Vivek Shraya’s new book can teach us about campus sexual violence

In late September, Canadian best-selling author Vivek Shraya’s new book The Hystericals hit shelves. The dystopian novel begins when university student Sarah Munroe dies by suicide after her sexual assault attacker walks free. This prompts women across the country to follow suit as part of a movement called #FreeToo and Sarah’s sister Kennedy is left to navigate the fallout.

The timing of Shraya’s novel release was striking: also in late September, sexual assault allegations at Cornell University made headlines. A former student filed a lawsuit that claims seven members of a fraternity drugged and sexually assaulted her and openly encouraged others in a group chat to join. Here, Shraya shares what The Hystericals can teach us about campus sexual violence.

You’ve written about sexual violence before–in your best-selling essay collection/memoir I’m Afraid of Men. With the Hystericals, why fiction? And why a student point-of-view?

I think that the news can feel so unbearable and unfortunately, this is actually the exact time that we need to be more vigilant, that we need to be more engaged. And I think that art consistently has a way of bringing people back to thing that matters to them or to get people to think about a different perspective.

The release of your book has coincided with a sexual assault lawsuit happening at Cornell University. What do you hope readers take away from your book when cases like this continue to make headlines?

All of the various male criticisms of #MeToo, like, “You can’t even speak to a woman any more” or “I can’t even make a joke without it being sexual harassment.” Or many male celebrities speaking about being cancelled. Like, none of that is true. The change that we hoped was going to happen didn’t stick. So, my hope is that this book is a way for people to engage in this conversation outside of the news, but because it is so extreme, to highlight what could happen.

The Hystericals takes elements of contemporary culture and pushes them to an extreme to expose something about the world we’re living in. What do you want readers to understand through that exaggeration?

I’m hoping that the book can prevent a world where women feel like the only way for men to understand and rethink misogyny is to harm ourselves. How far do women have to go and how much do women have to suffer to be taken seriously?

What would you like to see change about the conversation around campus sexual violence over the next decade?

One of the most important characters for me in The Hystericals is Jake, which is Kennedy’s boyfriend, who very much sees himself as the “modern sensitive man” and probably would call himself a feminist. He’s in love with his girlfriend. He doesn’t want to be anything like his abusive father. And yet again, without giving too much away, the reader discovers the ways in which, despite his feminism, he has been a bystander who has stood by and done nothing.

Every time I think about the fact that there were 57 people in that [Cornell fraternity] group chat and that 50 men opted not to say something, to get involved, to stop what was happening, to record it. That, to me, is one of the most troubling pieces of what has been discussed publicly. And I say that respectfully to the survivor.

My hope is male readers can think about how to get involved: whether it’s volunteering at the sexual assault centre or volunteering for safe walk. They’re small gestures, but important ones. How do men then engage other men in conversations about not being a silent bystander?

The novel and the Cornell case are both rooted in the U.S. Do you think Canadians have a tendency to feel removed from these issues?

Canadians can be really complacent because it’s easy for us to point our finger elsewhere – particularly at our “friends” in the south. So, in the book, there are a few references to Canada not being free, with the implication being that the conditions here could be far worse.

The novel ends on a cliffhanger. Do you think Kennedy will fight back? And do you think we will?

It depends on the day. That’s my honest answer. There have been moments in the past six years where – to be completely transparent – I’m constantly being fed the message that as a trans person, I shouldn’t exist. There are definitely days I’ve thought to myself, “Well, this isn’t a world conducive for me. I shouldn’t exist.” And then there are other days where I’m very moved by people who are fighting despite it feeling hopeless and I feel emboldened to do the same. And to use my voice and use my art in whatever way I can.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.