Stories such as these invariably lead us to ask, Why? How? and a myriad of other queries that swirl in our boggled minds with regard to the victims and perpetrators alike. In The Question Authority by Rachel Cline, what drew me in was the prospect of getting some answers. Albeit a work of fiction, the novel is culled from true tales of abuse, specifically at the hands of educators. What kept me reading though was the writing. Cline has a beautiful way with words while describing such an ugly subject. Her performance is riveting.

Rachel Cline’s new novel, The Question Authority, is prescient ... Yet the book’s premise—a teacher who molests half a dozen eighth-graders in rotation, with his wife in the same bed—strains credulity. It certainly distracts from the novel’s real strength: its affecting portrait of a lonely woman who must grapple with childhood trauma ... As for #MeToo, it’s the mundane injustices in The Question Authority that ultimately reignite our outrage.

The Question Authority takes on the ungainly problem of pubescent desire and friendship—and, in a roundabout way, guilt ... Glimmering around the edges of this gaunt and lonely novel is the hope that Nora and Beth can reconcile thanks to the shared past that also divided them ... It’s a confusing kaleidoscope of perspectives until you realize, alongside Nora, that Beth isn’t viewing the episode as if over a chasm of thirty-nine years ... This is, in other words, less a story about victim and abuser than of how a formative friendship failed to survive the abuser’s interference. In Cline’s hands, it’s also a story toggling between self-righteousness and self-doubt ... The conventional wisdom is that thirteen-year-olds’ crushes on teachers do not amount to consent. But that’s a legal view, not a survivor’s, and The Question Authority gets weaker the closer it hews to a legal rather than an interpersonal perspective ... The Question Authority is a hunt for a narrative—an authority, even—that permits a person to feel autonomous and at peace with herself ... hope. That might not be the precise word for what...Cline’s imaginative efforts evoke, but I’m grateful for their deep involvement within these awful constraints.

Reviews of The Question Authority have generally asserted...that Cline 'adds depth and nuance' to the #MeToo movement, but the novel actually represents a harmful attempt to minimize and complicate #MeToo’s most basic goal: to empower the survivors of sexual violence and hold abusers accountable ... Cline ultimately presents #MeToo as a self-obsessed, almost masturbatory project, an endeavor that is less about justice and more about self-examination ... What feels most harmful about Cline’s exploration of #MeToo is that the moral situation depicted in the novel is so painfully clear: Cline’s characters were children systematically abused by a teacher. Ambiguity doesn’t resolve anything here ... The Question Authority distracts readers from the actual work that needs to be done for girls and women worldwide—to empower, understand, and diagnose abuse without the scourge of himpathy clouding our judgment.

...a provocative story ... It’s a situation that happens to be timely in this #MeToo moment, but that’s neither the reason to read nor avoid this absorbing, nuanced page-turner.

Cline’s relentless novel is not only a courageous, gripping exposé, but also a way back to the power which can be reclaimed through the telling of stories ... Cline’s precision with language and unflinching investigation of their trauma makes this work hit uncomfortably close to home. ...What makes this book readable, despite the weight of the questions it raises, is Nora’s voice—the consistency of her humor, cleverness, and charm. Though including the perpetrator’s point of view feels at first Lolita-esque, the novel’s overall perspective stays satisfyingly decentralized from his disturbing, first person account ... Ultimately, the book is not excellent because of a subversive point of view, but because the rage and pain of victims is given a place to rest ... The Question Authority is successful because it is at times so vivid you’ll forget it’s fiction— and because, like the #MeToo movement, Nora’s story is grounded in a specificity which gestures towards other stories, many of which are yet untold. This novel is evidence of just how powerful such stories can be.

Nora is a beautifully crafted character. Late in the book, she comments on her own 'prickliness,' and the word is perfect. Nora is sharp and hard to get close to, and now, in her 50s, she’s trying to understand how much of that is a reaction to Mr. Rasmussen—his behavior toward Nora but also what she knows about him and Beth and a handful of other girls. Her story is interwoven with emails written by Rasmussen himself as well as beyond-the-grave narration from Rasmussen’s wife, Naomi. These portions of the book are less successful. Bob Rasmussen is a creep, and not a terribly repentant one. His self-justifications aren’t especially revelatory; they’re just gross. Naomi is slightly more interesting, but Cline has granted her an omniscience—because she’s dead?—that feels a bit like cheating. An uneven exploration of a timely topic.