The Change

The #MeToo movement gained global traction in October 2017 when investigative reporting on the film producer Harvey Weinstein alleged his decades-long pattern of assault and harassment and highlighted the settlements and nondisclosure agreements that had long suppressed those allegations. Within days, the hashtag circulated by the millions, exposing a pattern of structural abuse in Hollywood and beyond—one that involved not just individual predators but also the lawyers, publicists, assistants, and other figures who were tasked with damage control.

As a result, a cascade of scandals rained down on numerous industries and exposed the true extent to which so many people—often men—had been complicit in the widespread sexual abuse of many different women. That cascade reached its most extreme expression in the case of Jeffrey Epstein, who was arrested in July 2019 on federal sex-trafficking charges involving underage girls. Public attention was captured by the scaffolding of his impunity, which included enormous wealth; a social network of politicians, academics, and royalty; a portfolio of private residences; and a demonstrated ability to evade legal consequences. The case exemplified the grim reality that in a patriarchal society that instinctively protects powerful figures from the consequences of their actions, money can often buy anything—including prosecutorial discretion. Epstein died in custody in August 2019 before facing trial, an ending that foreclosed accountability and intensified the widespread public suspicion that such men are simply beyond the reach of justice.

The Change channels this accumulated outrage, exaggerating the real-world elements involved to create vivid characters that become outright caricatures. As Miller simultaneously satirizes and critiques the ingrained misogyny of modern American culture, she crafts a cartoonish cabal of billionaires whose silent complicity in a barrage of violent crimes against women nonetheless accurately mimics the extent to which such dynamics have been present in real-life settings. On the exclusive island of Culling Pointe, whose insularity and secrecy strongly parallels the geography of the Epstein case, the fictitious villains of the novel enjoy a private enclave that allows them to operate unobserved. Spencer Harding, the untouchable art dealer at the novel’s center, mirrors Epstein closely in method as well as profile, for he uses his status and resources to gain exclusive access to vulnerable young women, then cruelly violates their bodies and robs them of their very lives. Crucially, the novel makes it clear that the horror extends far beyond Harding to encompass the social apparatus that sustains his activities and shields him from justice. Thus, Police Chief Rocca’s complicity embodies the theme of systemic failure, dramatizing the same recognition that drove the #MeToo movement: the idea that predation on this scale requires institutional cooperation. Because Harriet, Nessa, and Jo are pursuing a case that law enforcement actively buries, The Change becomes a strident answer to the real-world frustration of an era in which one of history’s most notorious defendants never stood trial for his crimes against women.