Category Archives: motherhood

Things in Nature Merely Grow by Yiyun Li

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What a gorgeous book! It builds and escalates to a conclusion that I found to be incredibly poignant and insightful. Things in Nature Merely Grow by Yiyun Li is a meditation on life and death by suicide, especially on the topic of parents losing children to suicide.

I imagine that this book might reach those parents who have experienced something similar. The act of writing it seemed…a humanitarian endeavor. Even without experiencing those things myself, I hope I am wiser and more compassionate for having read it.

I do not seek out sensitive topics naturally, but I trusted Yiyun Li entirely to guide me through, and so she did. I do not feel sad or worse for having read it. In fact, I feel just the opposite.

Famesick by Lena Dunham

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I’m a fan of Tiny Furniture, Girls, Not That Kind of Girl, and now Famesick. Lena Dunham is the voice of my generation. That might sound crazy coming from someone from the rural west, while Dunham is from the urban east coast, but she so honestly captures a kind of worry, a kind of secret angst, a kind of neuroses that I think is universal–though certainly felt to differing degrees–especially, perhaps, of the modern day heterosexual female.

I was about a quarter of the way through Famesick when it was announced that there would be a Girls reboot, and I am thrilled by that. I hope that Dunham continues to make movies and shows and write books in between. I am especially a fan of the books, naturally, but the movie making and the fame really does seem to offer such fodder for her life and a window for insight.

Now, she is a new mother, I see, and I cannot wait to read what I hope will be a book about motherhood.

Thanatographies by Yanara Friedland

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It’s been a few months since I’ve posted! I read this book, Thanatographies, by Yanara Friedland. I found myself wanting to spend time in the book, to savor the scenes, thoughts, and feelings that the author conveyed, and so I did. I loved the first story and wanted the book to be a novel that is continually based around the room, but alas.

Go As A River by Shelley Read

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I read Go As A River by Shelley Read for research. To me, this book goes in the same category as Where the Crawdad’s Sing. Are women forever fleeing to the forest to survive in peace?

Having spent time in Colorado, and especially around Durango, the sights and sounds were familiar to me, and I think that made me like the book even more. I am also interested in towns that have been wiped out by dams. The imagery alone is fascinating!

I think most readers will like this book–engaging plot line, based in a woman’s experience, set against a stunning landscape. Readers who only read literary prose may not like this one, but for the average reader, even one who likes an elevated level of writing, this book will do just fine.

A Frozen Woman by Annie Ernaux

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My latest summer read was A Frozen Woman by Annie Ernaux. Ernaux has been writing for decades, but I feel like she’s having a resurgence, perhaps because of her recent Nobel Prize in Literature, but I can see why.

While everyone is reading Yesteryear, Ernaux’s A Frozen Woman takes readers back to motherhood in the middle of the last century and depicts a stifled life full of daunting work and caretaking as the main character put aside her lofty ambitions and raises two children with a husband who, like many husband/fathers of the time, was largely unhelpful.

Ernaux captures the labor and desperation that sometimes comes along with motherhood, especially a motherhood devoid of support–which is the normal for so many (most?).

For women who are mothers, but who are also ambitions, artistic, and driven, I think this book will resonate. The writing alone is beautifully done. The book is an acheivement for sure.

Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson

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Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson is a short, readable, excellently written book that takes readers on a deeply human journey while also layering in historical context. One can’t really ask for me.

It seems like responsibility often skips a generation. One generation scrimps and saves and works to build generational wealth, and then the next generation can relax in that security, and then the next generation is driven to work and save, etc., in order to regain a sense of security, and then their children can relax again, and so it goes. For me, this book captured that.

The Fate of Mary Rose by Catherine Blackwood

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The Fate of Mary Rose by Catherine Blackwood is a psychological thriller. I didn’t always enjoy the ride–as intense as it became–but I did appreciate what Blackwood did here. The premise is dark. The characters are deeply unique and interesting and disturbing. While they are difficult to pin down, they are also very clearly pictured.

The author, Blackwood, herself is interesting and worth study as well. Lately I’ve felt a little discouraged that most prominent art, music, literary works–all–are saturated with people so privileged they have no excuse but to create something. Then they use all of their resources to hire editors and producers, etc. to make it great. And that works, but I am still enamored by the idea of the persona of an artist, not an a privileged inevitability, but by a little je ne sais quoi.

Even despite my sometimes disillusionment with art at the moment, Blackwood caught my attention. Apparently she was a socialite and muse, and bemused by, important movers and shakers of her time. I could not determine her craft secrets, but I marveled at her ability to do it. The pacing she maintained throughout and the grip she held on her readers throughout was quite the feat. The book is well worth reading, especially for readers who crave a little suspense without losing literary quality.

Motherhood by Sheila Heti

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In many ways, Motherhood by Sheila Heti felt like a continuation of my recent readings on motherhood and middle age from Miranda July and Claire Dederer. This book fit perfectliy within those conversations. These are people who grapple with the big question of whether or not to pursue motherhood when one is an artist, intellectual, and/or otherwise passionate about their career.

Needless to say, these philosophical wonderings, coupled with a gentle narrative thread, speak to me loudly. I recently read Heti for the first time last year. I appreciated when she was doing then, but I think this is the book I was meant to read.

Women’s Voices from the Oregon Trail by Susan Butruille

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Women’s Voices from the Oregon Trail by Susan Butruille is one of the more niche books I’ve ever read, but what can I say? I was pretty engrossed all the way through. The writer drives the Oregon Trail from Missouri and shares diary excerpts and insights of what the trail was like, especially for the women. Butruille stops at historical sites and shares photographs and more insights inspired by those visits.

As a daughter of pioneers, I imagined my own relatives making a similar trek, imagined their lives and relationships and hardships. I think this book is even more relevant to those of us with that personal connection. A broader audience might be interested in the history. I think the rigid role of wife as domestic servant will be especially striking to some readers as well.

Our Spoons Came from Woolworths by Barbara Comyns

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I first read Barbara Comyns in 2024, starting with Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead, and it was such a strange and excellent book that it has really stayed with me. When someone recommended her other book, Our Spoons Came from Woolworths, I knew I wanted to read it–even if just for that title!

The book follows the life of a young, impoverished woman, who is an artist, but is held back by sexism and classism and the burdens that come with it. She seems somewhat unaware of her unfair circumstances, or at least perceives them in a unique way, and so the reader gets a new view, one that avoids commonplace thinking around victimhood.

For the doulas and birth workers who follow me, there is also quite a lot of content about hospital childbirth during the middle of the last century. It was…rough. (And there’s still so much more work we can do to improve hospital childbirth, but that’s an aside.)

In the last few years, I’ve gone from Elena Ferrante to Barbara Comyns to Moa Martinson and back to Comyns again. I’m so grateful to have discovered these authors, and my interest in finding more is renewed.