Nothing may be said, or felt, of an intimate, emotional nature. Women do not adorn themselves or wash their own hair. Nor does anyone smoke, drink, fornicate or swear. This fake puritanism may be a warning against extreme pc tendencies in feminism itself. But as a novel about the dangers of totalitarianism it is a rather shallow read beside such masterpieces as Brooke-Rose's Out and Nabokov's Bend Sinister.
Love gets debased all the time.
Before all the modern dystopias though, by men or women, came Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, a novel about how estrangement can turn a good human being into an evil one. Frankenstein is still a fascinating read, reflecting the scientific and moral theories of the day. It is also a reminder of how devastatingly good women are on estrangement, when the trust, loyalty and dignity essential to humanity collapse. Subversion of the good order of the world begins in the domestic context and ripples out, as in the tale of another man-made monster in Wuthering Heights. The same insights seem to feed women's brilliant performance in the detective and thriller genres.