Sanjena Sathian’s sophomore novel “Goddess Complex” pulls readers into a disorienting psychological labyrinth where identity fractures and multiplies like cells dividing. Following the critically acclaimed “Gold Diggers,” Sathian continues to probe the immigrant experience while veering into fertile new territory: the fraught terrain of procreation, the cult of modern motherhood, and the existential vertigo of choosing one life over another.
The novel follows Sanjana Satyananda, an anthropology PhD candidate whose life has come undone. After ghosting her actor husband Killian in India a year earlier—leaving him after he pressured her to have children—she’s now bouncing between temporary housing situations, feeling increasingly alienated from her married, child-bearing peers. Her dissertation languishes unfinished, her adviser barely acknowledges her existence, and she’s been relegated to editing college application essays to pay rent. When strange text messages arrive from someone who seems to think she’s pregnant, Sanjana embarks on a journey to finalize her divorce and reclaim her life, eventually coming face-to-face with a doppelgänger who has colonized her former existence.
The Uncomfortable Mirror: Masterful Character Work
Sathian’s greatest achievement is the creation of Sanjana—a character who feels simultaneously familiar and strange, like staring at your own reflection too long. She’s skeptical, acerbic, and trapped in the liminal space between who she was and who she might become. To borrow from the novel’s own language, Sanjana “seemed to have abdicated [her] birthright citizenship to the nation of marriage and mortgage and motherhood, and beyond its borders lay uncharted terrain.”
The character work is brutally honest and uncomfortably real. Sanjana exhibits frequent moral failings—she’s dismissive of others’ joy, casually cruel to those who care for her, and frequently wallows in self-pity—yet never loses our empathy. When we meet her doppelgänger, Sanjena (note the crucial e), the contrast is electric. Where Sanjana is caustic and resistant, Sanjena has commodified her femininity and fertility into influence and power. Their twinned existence raises unsettling questions about authenticity, choice, and the fractured nature of womanhood.
A Surreal Psychological Thriller with Gothic Underpinnings
While the novel begins as literary fiction about millennial malaise, it soon spirals into psychological thriller territory with gothic touches. The setting of the Shakti Center (nicknamed “God Complex” by insiders) is a masterpiece of disconcerting architecture—all winding staircases and hidden chambers, perched precariously on a mountainside. During Sanjana’s concussed state, her unreliable narration leaves readers questioning what’s real and what’s hallucination.
The thriller elements accelerate as Sanjana discovers the true nature of the fertility cult that has ensnared her, building to a genuinely chilling climax. Sathian’s command of atmosphere rivals Daphne du Maurier (whose “Rebecca” she explicitly references), creating a dreamlike quality where boundaries between self and other, reality and delusion, dissolve like mist.
Biting Social Commentary on Modern Womanhood
Beneath the propulsive plot lies razor-sharp commentary on contemporary feminism, social media, and the commodification of female bodies:
- The novel skewers “lean-in feminism” through the character of Sunny/Sanjena, who built her career on corporate female empowerment before pivoting to fertility influencing
- It examines how social media has transformed intimate experiences like pregnancy into performance and content
- It explores how the language around fertility has become simultaneously medicalized (“incompetent cervix”) and mystified (“baby dust” and “rainbow babies”)
- It critiques how capitalism and technology have enabled the outsourcing of reproduction itself
What makes this commentary particularly effective is that Sathian refuses to resolve the tensions she highlights. The story offers no easy answers about whether fertility technology is liberating or coercive, whether the desire for motherhood is biological destiny or social conditioning. Instead, it occupies the uncomfortable space where multiple contradictory truths coexist.
Where the Novel Occasionally Stumbles
Despite its many strengths, “Goddess Complex” isn’t without flaws:
- Pacing issues in the middle section: The sequences at the Shakti Center sometimes drag, with repetitive scenes and conversations that could have been tightened.
- Underdeveloped supporting characters: While the primary characters are richly drawn, some secondary figures feel sketched rather than fully realized. Mireille in particular seems to exist primarily as a plot device.
- Uneven tone: The novel sometimes struggles to balance its satirical elements with its psychological horror. A few moments of social commentary feel heavy-handed rather than organically integrated.
- Resolution comes too quickly: After the tense climax, the last chapter wraps things up too neatly. The psychological aftermath of Sanjana’s experience feels rushed compared to the careful build-up.
These criticisms are minor compared to what Sathian accomplishes, but they occasionally pull readers out of the hypnotic spell the novel otherwise casts.
Virtuosic Prose That Cuts Like a Scalpel
Sathian’s writing is a marvel of precise imagery and cutting observation. Her sentences are dense with meaning yet flow with a compelling rhythm. Consider this passage where Sanjana describes her former friends:
“I’d once had more compatriots. Then I left the country, and everyone became parents. When I returned, they were transformed. I tried to maintain the connections—with Jameela, for instance, my best college friend. I took the train to see her in Philadelphia twice. But she and her wife were public defenders with no childcare. Jameela fell asleep, her face plonking straight into a bowl of ice cream, and asked after Killian, forgetting that I’d just left him.”
The prose carries echoes of Ottessa Moshfegh’s dark humor, Zadie Smith’s cultural acuity, and Patricia Highsmith’s psychological suspense, yet maintains a voice distinctly Sathian’s own.
Cultural Resonance and Literary Antecedents
“Goddess Complex” engages with several literary traditions:
- It joins works like Sheila Heti’s “Motherhood” and Rachel Cusk’s “A Life’s Work” in examining maternal ambivalence
- It stands alongside Ottessa Moshfegh’s “Eileen” and Sayaka Murata’s “Convenience Store Woman” in its unflinching portrayal of female alienation
- It recalls the psychological doubling of Dostoevsky’s “The Double” and Nabokov’s “Despair”
- It draws from the tradition of feminist gothic like Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper”
While tackling these weighty literary influences, the novel remains accessible and propulsive—a genuine page-turner despite its intellectual heft.
The Verdict: A Brilliant, Unsettling Achievement
“Goddess Complex” confirms Sathian as one of the most exciting literary voices of her generation. Like her debut “Gold Diggers,” this novel blends cultural commentary with genre elements, but it reaches further and cuts deeper. It’s a book that stays with you, prompting uncomfortable questions about identity, desire, and the stories we tell ourselves about the paths we’ve chosen.
For readers of literary fiction with an appetite for psychological depth and social critique, this novel is an essential addition to your reading list. Fans of Mona Awad’s “Bunny,” Alexandra Kleeman’s “Something New Under the Sun,” and Ottessa Moshfegh’s work will find much to appreciate here.
While not flawless, “Goddess Complex” is nonetheless a daring, ambitious work that expands the possibilities of what contemporary fiction can accomplish. Like the fertility goddess hinted at in its title, the novel both creates and destroys, leaving readers changed in its wake.