Mercy

*Few writers have come forward in our century who care deeply enough, and whose voices are powerful enough, for them to become spokespersons for justice and civil rights. In her prose works and now her novels, Andrea Dworkin stands up for women who suffer violence at the hands of men, and in so doing she defends everyone. She does so by warning us of the nearness of such violence to all our lives.

There are three voices in* **Mercy***. First there is the voice of the novel's prologue, a parody of the well-to-do self-described "liberal feminist" in whom Dworkin no longer believes. Next there is the so-called "pro-pornography feminist" of the epilogue: "It is, of course, tiresome to dwell on sexual abuse," says the voice, and "I have been hurt, but it was a long time ago. I'm not the same girl." There two voices serve as a framing device. Between them, in precise contrast, the third of the novel's voices rings true and clear: "My name is Andrea ... "* **Mercy** *belongs to this Andrea as no other modern novel has belonged to its protagonist since Flaubert imagined Emma Bovary.*

—From the inside flap.