I'm a mother, and at one time, I was a single mother going through a very bitter divorce. I know what it's like to panic that your child will be in an accident, or that the other parent will kidnap the child (even if observers would say I'm overreacting). Looking back, my experience as a mother has permeated both my fiction and nonfiction writing in unplanned ways. Why does my second novel start with a mother kidnapping her own daughter? Why does the subtitle of my fourth nonfiction book cite "Parenting and Other Daily Dilemmas in an Age of Political Activism"?
I had to shut this book about halfway through, and I couldn't pick it up again until my daughter was safely home from her weekend visitation with her father—because it was too real.
Too powerful, in the way it captured my (and many mothers') constant fear that my ex-husband would find some excuse not to bring my daughter back after each visit.
I've rarely read anything that grabbed me so personally. The overall plot itself was also enthralling, though less directly realistic for me.
Anna and her ex-husband, Brian, seem to have an amiable divorce, and Anna finds new romance with a sexy lover. But then things go too far: Will Anna lose custody of her young daughter, Molly? What did her lover, Leo, actually do?
Recently divorced, Anna Dunlap has two passionate attachments: her daughter, four-year-old Molly, and her lover, Leo, the man who makes her feel beautiful - and sexual - for the first time. Swept away by happiness and passion, Anna feels she has everything she's ever wanted.
Then come the shocking charges that would threaten her new love, her new "family" . . . that force her to prove she is a good mother.
I was hooked by the unexpected opening sentence: "The first time I saw my granddaughters, I was standing across the street, didn't dare go any closer."
What had gone wrong? Why was a grandmother so estranged from her own grandchildren?
As the novel unspooled, it double-backed into other surprise twists, and the characters and motivations weren't as clear-cut as they'd seemed. Leah, the mother of the two granddaughters, wasn't being juvenile, impulsive, or heartless when she broke off contact with her parents. Yoella, the grandmother, wasn't as loving and innocent as she thinks she was—and how much does she realize, in fact?
I loved the way the book sometimes said more between the lines than in the actual words.
WINNER OF THE SAPIR PRIZE 2022
'A mesmerising, disquieting tale of family estrangement ... Unforgettable' OBSERVER
'A striking and memorable novel' MEG WOLITZER
'A stone-cold masterwork of psychological tension. Its final pages had me holding my breath' NEW YORK TIMES
'Hila Blum is my new favourite writer' LOUISE KENNEDY
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What damage do we do in the blindness of love?
Thousands of miles from her home, a woman stands on a dark street, peeking through well-lit windows at two little girls. They are the daughters of her only daughter, the grandchildren she's never met.
At the centre of this mesmerising…
Tina Edwards loved her childhood and creating fairy houses, a passion shared with her father, a world-renowned architect. But at nine years old, she found him dead at his desk and is haunted by this memory. Tina's mother abruptly moved away, leaving Tina with feelings of abandonment and suspicion.
As the seemingly idyllic marriage between Eleanor and Cam unraveled, I kept wanting to scream at Eleanor.
Didn't she see what she was doing to her relationship with her kids, by either saying the wrong thing or doing nothing? Yes, it was because of Cam's carelessness that their son, Toby, was horribly injured in an accident, but why didn't she accept Cam's gestures of apology?
And when divorce became inevitable, why did she let Cam keep the farm that their three children loved? Why did she have to fight over every little thing with their elder daughter?
These characters were vividly real to me, and I felt like I was watching helplessly while the wrong person unfairly won the whole prize.
In her most ambitious novel to date, New York Times bestselling author Joyce Maynard returns to the themes that are the hallmarks of her most acclaimed work in a mesmerizing story of a family-from the hopeful early days of young marriage to parenthood, divorce, and the costly aftermath that ripples through all their lives
Eleanor and Cam meet at a crafts fair in Vermont in the early 1970s. She's an artist and writer, he makes wooden bowls. Within four years they are parents to three children, two daughters and a red-headed son who fills his pockets with rocks, plays the…
At the heart of this novel is a brave and scary question that (luckily) I and most parents never need to consider: What if your child does something too awful for you to forgive?
The story is told through alternating timelines and points of view—through the voices of Maya, an English professor and mother, and of Ellie, her teenage daughter.
We know from the start that Ellie has done something unforgivable, and that Maya needs to forgive her. But first, Maya needs to reach her, and Ellie refuses to accept that outreach.
I loved the way this book intertwines so many threads while keeping me on the edge of my seat for the answers.
When Maya Taylor, an English professor with a tendency to hide in her books, sends her daughter to Florida to look after a friend's child, she does so with the best of intentions; it's a chance for Ellie, twenty and spiraling, to rebuild her life. But in the sprawling hours of one humid afternoon, Ellie makes a mistake she cannot take back. In two separate timelines-before and after the catastrophe-Maya and Ellie must try to repair their fractured relationship and find a way to transcend not only their differences but also their more troubling similarities. "[Melding] psychological insight, precise plotting…
Tina Edwards loved her childhood and creating fairy houses, a passion shared with her father, a world-renowned architect. But at nine years old, she found him dead at his desk and is haunted by this memory. Tina's mother abruptly moved away, leaving Tina with feelings of abandonment and suspicion.
For me, this novel combines the best of three sharply different types of books: It's a dystopian novel that paints an enthralling (and terrifying) portrait of an invented world. It's a page-turner.
And it's a story that hit some deep emotions in me. The basic narrative is that Frida, the harried and divorced mom of toddler Harriet, leaves Harriet alone while she dashes off to get herself a latte. Okay, that's stupid and risky, though Harriet is unharmed.
But in this book's world, that's enough to land Frida in a "reform school" from which it's almost impossible to prove yourself "perfect" enough to be released. As the story spiraled worse and worse, I couldn't believe this was happening.
I couldn't read another word; no, I couldn't put it down.
THE INSTANT NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER AN OBAMA'S 2022 SUMMER READING PICK
'A taut and propulsive take on the cult of motherhood and the notion of what makes a good mother. Destined to be feminist classic - it kept me up at night' PANDORA SYKES 'A haunting tale of identity and motherhood - as devastating as it is imaginative' AFUA HIRSCH 'Incredibly clever, funny and pertinent to the world we're living in at the moment' DAISY JOHNSON
'We have your daughter'
Frida Liu is a struggling mother. She remembers taking Harriet from her cot and changing her nappy. She remembers…
I’m only telling you in case the police contact you. Esme was arrested, but I’m handling everything, and she doesn’t want to hear from you.
That email from her ex-husband is almost the only information Alice Wilson has had about her 23-year-old daughter, Esme, in the six years since Esme abruptly ended all communication. As Alice searches for answers up and down the California coast, she uncovers hints of a daughter she’d never known—and of her then-husband’s role in manipulating the girl, from the moment she was born. Who is the Robert Corning who was arrested with Esme, and why did she pay his bail? Will Esme agree to meet with Alice? And if so, will Alice say the wrong thing?
