I went into this book with a feeling of apprehension since I have previously read reviews about it which didn’t necessarily make me want to bump it up on my “to read” list. In the end, I felt quite torn about how to rate it. There were quite a few parts that sounded interesting to me, that made me think, contemplate my own opinions and perceptions. There were many stylistically and linguistically beautiful passages that I have marked.

I had such a nice time the next day, […] realizing how much writing has given me, and feeling so lucky that this passion was mine—right there, in the center of my life. And you are never lonely while writing, I thought, it’s impossible to be—categorically impossible—because writing is a relationship. You’re in a relationship with some force that is more mysterious than yourself. As for me, I suppose it has been the central relationship of my life.

p. 93

Every time I hear that a friend is having a baby, I feel like I’m being cornered by a looming force, more trapped still. You know the babies cannot keep coming forever, but for now they are raining down as heavy as night-hail, or whatever hits the earth and makes a crater sized so much bigger than the thing itself that hit it. There are craters, craters, all around, and no home is safe enough not to be pummelled to dust by these blessings, by these bits of stardust, these thousand-pound babies aimed straight at the earth.I had always thought my friends and I were moving into the same land together, a childless land where we would just do a million things together forever. I thought our minds and souls were all cast the same way, not that they were waiting for the right moment to jump ship, which is how it feels as they abandon me here.

p. 163-164

On the other hand though, there were many parts that I found triggering, annoying or even pointless. From psychic card readings to an almost complete blindness of the main character towards her own privilege, insensitivity towards certain topics and the majority of the text that felt like ramblings in a personal diary. I saw how if some sentences were simply left standing alone they wouldn’t paint the best picture of the protagonist.

What is the main activity of a woman’s life, if not motherhood? How can I express the absence of this experience, without making central the lack?

p. 159

I always felt jealous of the gay men I knew who spoke of having come out. I felt I would like to come out, too—but as what? I could never put my finger on it. […] I wanted to be able to say of myself—I have known this about myself since I was six years old. Some people were very condemning of me, but now I feel much better. I feel so much better since having come out. My life is now truly my own.

p. 160

-> Don’t know why she’s only speaking about gay men here and not lesbian women for example… Not even mentioning how insensitive such a phrase is towards someone’s experience of not having a choice but to come out.

Nobody looks at a childless gay couple and thinks their life must lack meaning or depth or substance because they didn’t have kids. No one looks at a couple of guys who have been together forever, love each other, are happy in their work, have chosen not to have kids, are probably still fucking, and pities them; or thinks that down deep inside they must know they’re living a trivial and callow life because they’re not fathers. Nobody thinks that! The idea of it is ridiculous! Or take a lesbian couple who could have had kids if they wished to, but chose not to for whatever reason. […] Who looks at them and thinks they must be nurturing this bottomless regret and longing in their souls because they’re not mothers? Nobody!

p. 270

-> It was interesting how she insisted on nobody saying that whereas I often hear such a criticism towards homosexual couples…

Miles said early on that we must always put the other one first, and that if we both do this, everything will be fine. Then maybe it’s not such a risk to be dependent on him, because here he is—a strong, intelligent and loyal man—and I have put my dependence on him. But he is going to use his intelligence and love towards putting me first, and the same goes the other way.

p. 67

–> That was somehow sounding like something out of a toxic relationship…

Especially with this book being classified as “auto fiction”, one can’t help but wonder where the lines between the main character and the author’s own opinions start to become blurred. I would suggest you to watch this video with the author and her mother going into this and other topics, which helped shed a light on the similarities and the differences between the protagonist and the author herself. The quote below for example reflected on the author’s experience of growing up with a mother who was strongly dedicated to her career rather then to raising her children:

If you can get that existential satisfaction from parenthood, would you feel as much desire to make art? He said that one can either be a great artist and a mediocre parent, or the reverse, but not great at both, because both art and parenthood take all of one’s time and attention.

p. 35

Even though the theme of the book, motherhood, was announced with its title, I was still surprised about how repetitive it was throughout. It was only once getting to the end that everything made much more sense. The way the story was finalised just gave me such a satisfying feeling as I haven’t experienced it in a while! It felt like the previous mess and chaos of thoughts was brought back to order and neatly stacked on different shelves. It made me see how through the narrative, the reader was able to go through the same thinking process as the main character. Fighting one’s way through all the recurring questions, doubts and hesitations to finally arrive at the necessary conclusion.

In the early days of writing this book, I thought it would be a trick: that I would write it and it would tell me whether I wanted to have a child. You think you are creating a trick with your art, but your art ends up tricking you. It made me write it and write it for years—the answer like something I could almost reach, tantalizingly there—the promise of an answer just around the corner, maybe in the next day’s writing. But that day never came.

p. 272-273

I held fast against the wave that tried to sweep me into its slumber—the slumber that makes babies—for it’s certainly a kind of slumber to do what nature wants. To have avoided its grasp feels as blissful and intimate as having a child, but the opposite of a child, in how what I’ve won can hardly be seen.I don’t have to live every possible life, or to experience that particular love. I know I cannot hide from life; that life will give me experiences no matter what I choose.

p. 268

To me it felt like the book could be a valuable read for people who are contemplating whether to have children or not, the author having elaborated on all the possible pros and cons surrounding such a decision. I would also see it as being helpful for those, who already have children, in order to be able to better understand the reasoning behind the decision of others not wanting to have children. And then finally, for those that have taken the conscious decision of not having children, this could be an interesting dive into all the thoughts that once permitted them to establish or strengthen such a decision. Besides that main topic though, a lot of other different themes were touched upon, such as existential questions, the meaning of life, the point of our existence on this Earth, emotions, dealing with one’s feelings, what it means to exist as a woman in our current day society, relationships in general, the relations between parents and their children, as well as intergenerational trauma.

Maybe I feel betrayed by the woman inside of me who can’t bring herself to do this thing. Or maybe I feel betrayed by my mother, for not devoting herself to me and creating whatever loving memories must be created in a child to make her want to repeat the process again. Or maybe it’s a part of me that goes deeper than that—my lifelong desire to leave my family and never be part of a new one. […] I figured you grew up and out of your own family, more and more each year; that you increasingly tried to win your independence—your freedom and solitude in this world.

p. 128

The most womanly problem is not giving oneself enough space or time, or not being allowed it. We squeeze ourselves into the moments we allow, or the moments that have been allowed us. We do not stretch out in time, languidly, but allot ourselves the smallest parcels of time in which to exist, miserly. We let everyone crowd us. We are miserly with our selves when it comes to space and time. But doesn’t having children lead to the most miserly allotment of space and time? Having a child solves the impulse to give oneself nothing. It makes that impulse into a virtue. To feed oneself last in self-abnegation, to fit oneself into the smallest spaces in the hopes of being loved—that is entirely womanly. To be virtuously miserly towards oneself in exchange for being loved—having children gets you there fast.

p. 169-170

I believe that you would need to go into this book with a certain amount of patience, being willing to see past problematically sounding topics in order to have a better understanding of the full picture in the end. Even though I don’t think it’s a book for everyone, I do believe that it’s a really valuable piece of writing. In my case, the story gradually grew on me and I was really glad that I have come across it at this moment in time.

★★★☆☆ (3/5)

_{Edition: ISBN 978-0-099-59284-8
Vintage, 2023 (first published in 2018)}