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Bad Animals
Now that her brilliant daughter is off at college, buttoned-up Maeve Cosgrove loves her job at her quiet Maine public library more than anything. But when a teenager accuses Maeve—Maeve!—of spying on her romantic escapades in the mezzanine bathroom, she winds up laid off and humiliated. While Maeve attempts to clear her name, her favorite author, Harrison Riddles, finally responds to her invitation to speak at the library. Riddles announces a plan to write a novel about another young library patron, a Sudanese refugee, and enlists Maeve’s help in convincing him to participate. A scheme to get her job back draws Maeve further into Riddles’s universe—where shocking questions about sex, morality, and the purpose of literature threaten to upend her orderly life.
A writer of “savage compassion” (Salvatore Scibona, author of The Volunteer), Sarah Braunstein constructs a shrewd, page-turning caper that explores one woman’s search for agency and ultimate reckoning with the kind of animal she is.
A writer of “savage compassion” (Salvatore Scibona, author of The Volunteer), Sarah Braunstein constructs a shrewd, page-turning caper that explores one woman’s search for agency and ultimate reckoning with the kind of animal she is.
301 pages, Kindle Edition
Published March 19, 2024
76 people are currently reading
9403 people want to read
About the author
Sarah Braunstein
5 books81 followersSarah Braunstein is the author of Bad Animals and The Sweet Relief of Missing Children. Her writing has appeared in The New Yorker and the Harvard Review. The recipient of a National Book Foundation “5 Under 35” award, she lives in Portland, Maine, and teaches at Colby College.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 222 reviews
September 20, 2024
Oh, my. This novel. It's so unexpected. It's impossible to describe how it works. You just need to read it. Keep your expectations at bay. Push your critical judgments away. Let this story tell itself to you. This is alchemic storytelling. It's about the trauma of everyday life, about being human, about how difficult it is to feel loved, to feel worthy. About how we scratch together semblances of an identity and cling to these long after they are of any use to us because without these fragile shells that we've constructed for ourselves we're just bags of water walking around.Read forward, with trust.
March 6, 2024
Bad Animals is my favorite kind of book – a book that dives deep into its characters and reveals truths about them even as they cling to the lies they continually tell themselves. The fact that it’s also a story about storytelling and the purpose of literature is an added bonus.
I was engrossed right from the opening page. Maeve Cosgrove, a meek, married Maine librarian, adores her job at a neighborhood public library. Yet immediately, we learn that a troubled teenage girl named Libby has accused her of spying in the next bathroom stall while she and a boy engaged in salacious acts.
Oh, my! To complicate things, her favorite author, Harrison Riddles, whom she has worshipped for years, has just agreed to speak at the library at her bequest. He also intends to begin writing his new book, which will be about a Sudanese refugee – the fiancée of a younger woman she works with – whom Maeve mentioned in one of her letters.
The characters are all marvelous – Maeve, her husband Jack, Libby, Harrison and his wife Dora, the Sudanese man, Willie and her colleague Katrina, and even the therapist she connects with on the phone.
Each of them is a bad animal, capable of being artfully and artistically cruel (to borrow a phrase from Dostoyevsky). They present themselves in a certain way, but often, they are not in tune with who they really are (or maybe they are and don’t want to admit it). It is fascinating to see them disguise the truth, not only to others but also to themselves.
Almost to a person, Sarah Braunstein’s characters relay stories that have served them well in the past and believe that a little bit of vulnerability can take the place of authentic human empathy. I couldn’t turn pages fast enough. Thanks to W.W. Norton for enabling me to be an early reader in exchange for an honest review. This one gets a big thumbs-up!
I was engrossed right from the opening page. Maeve Cosgrove, a meek, married Maine librarian, adores her job at a neighborhood public library. Yet immediately, we learn that a troubled teenage girl named Libby has accused her of spying in the next bathroom stall while she and a boy engaged in salacious acts.
Oh, my! To complicate things, her favorite author, Harrison Riddles, whom she has worshipped for years, has just agreed to speak at the library at her bequest. He also intends to begin writing his new book, which will be about a Sudanese refugee – the fiancée of a younger woman she works with – whom Maeve mentioned in one of her letters.
The characters are all marvelous – Maeve, her husband Jack, Libby, Harrison and his wife Dora, the Sudanese man, Willie and her colleague Katrina, and even the therapist she connects with on the phone.
Each of them is a bad animal, capable of being artfully and artistically cruel (to borrow a phrase from Dostoyevsky). They present themselves in a certain way, but often, they are not in tune with who they really are (or maybe they are and don’t want to admit it). It is fascinating to see them disguise the truth, not only to others but also to themselves.
Almost to a person, Sarah Braunstein’s characters relay stories that have served them well in the past and believe that a little bit of vulnerability can take the place of authentic human empathy. I couldn’t turn pages fast enough. Thanks to W.W. Norton for enabling me to be an early reader in exchange for an honest review. This one gets a big thumbs-up!
September 15, 2024
This book carries so much tension, like a gun in a Chekhov story. You see it, in a drawer, a drawer that gets opened once, and then again, reminding you of what could-might-will-oh it better happen. bang.
A quiet, painfully empty-nested, married woman, Maeve, who works in a library, gets called into the office one day. A complaint has been made by a teenager, suggesting sexual impropriety on Maeve's part.
Another call into the office a few weeks later leaves Maeve untethered.
She's at loose ends, people in her life are worried about her. She dreams her vagina has fallen out.
She finds herself in the presence of a great author, one with whom she has been corresponding, and becomes entangled with him and his world.
Her husband is away in Tampa.
Can you hear the drawer being opened, again and again? The glint of metal, the sleekness of the weapon?
I was completely engaged in the story from the beginning, fascinated with how Maeve is just barely, precariously situated in her life and her own identity, and I had no idea where the story would go, but was ready for anything.
The story had surprises for me, but not necessarily in the bang variety. I realize had the gun gone off in the way I thought it might, it would have been a different book. It didn't resort to tricks or melodrama, it remained subtler but still powerful, in the realm of stories and storytelling. The stories we tell, about ourselves and about others. About who gets to tell whose story. It's got a lot of delicious bookish references too, what with Maeve a reader and the library setting, and a lot of delicious poking fun at "the writer". So much big-revered-writer poking fun, something that made me think of H.H.H. Mandern from Less is Lost, as well as Richard Russo's comedic Straight Man (which explained to me his blurb on the back of the book, there's a certain kinship between his and Braunstein's novels).
There's a lot here too about the human experience, the pain of the every day, the deep need to be seen and the difficulty in seeing (even ourselves).
Braunstein is an exceptional storyteller. Read this to feel the complexity of your humanity reflected back at you (or is it the pistol?).
A quiet, painfully empty-nested, married woman, Maeve, who works in a library, gets called into the office one day. A complaint has been made by a teenager, suggesting sexual impropriety on Maeve's part.
Another call into the office a few weeks later leaves Maeve untethered.
She's at loose ends, people in her life are worried about her. She dreams her vagina has fallen out.
She finds herself in the presence of a great author, one with whom she has been corresponding, and becomes entangled with him and his world.
Her husband is away in Tampa.
Can you hear the drawer being opened, again and again? The glint of metal, the sleekness of the weapon?
I was completely engaged in the story from the beginning, fascinated with how Maeve is just barely, precariously situated in her life and her own identity, and I had no idea where the story would go, but was ready for anything.
The story had surprises for me, but not necessarily in the bang variety. I realize had the gun gone off in the way I thought it might, it would have been a different book. It didn't resort to tricks or melodrama, it remained subtler but still powerful, in the realm of stories and storytelling. The stories we tell, about ourselves and about others. About who gets to tell whose story. It's got a lot of delicious bookish references too, what with Maeve a reader and the library setting, and a lot of delicious poking fun at "the writer". So much big-revered-writer poking fun, something that made me think of H.H.H. Mandern from Less is Lost, as well as Richard Russo's comedic Straight Man (which explained to me his blurb on the back of the book, there's a certain kinship between his and Braunstein's novels).
There's a lot here too about the human experience, the pain of the every day, the deep need to be seen and the difficulty in seeing (even ourselves).
Braunstein is an exceptional storyteller. Read this to feel the complexity of your humanity reflected back at you (or is it the pistol?).
February 14, 2025
4.5 stars
Bad Animals has so much to say – about identity and our desire to be seen and acknowledged for all we are capable of, both the good and the bad; about how to NOT allow others to take advantage of us; about writing and cultural appropriation.
And it all snuck up on me because, at first, my excitement for the book waned quite a bit as I began to read it. I don’t know what it was, whether it was Maeve herself or the on-the-surface dullness of her plight, but the story didn’t grab me as I thought it would. I felt for librarian Maeve – after all, being wrongly accused of inappropriate spying on a teenager’s sexual tryst in a library bathroom and then losing your job afterwards isn’t fair – but I just wasn’t very interested in it.
Sarah Braunstein knows how to write a multi-layered character and narrative, though, and I soon realized there was more to Maeve’s story than I thought. As I saw Maeve scrabble to regain her footing in life and battle a depressive funk – because not only has she lost her identity as a librarian, she’s also heartbroken that her daughter will not be returning home for the summer – she became more real to me. She says, thinks, and does things she knows she shouldn’t; she allows herself to be taken advantage of by so many people in her orbit and then learns to fight back; and she dwells in her miserableness. It doesn’t get more human than that.
And I appreciated all the discussion about writing and the cultural appropriation we sometimes see. When Maeve sticks up for the disadvantaged in this regard, I cheered.
But not only did I cheer, I also laughed. I empathized. I turned the pages as fast as I could.
I loved this book.
My sincerest appreciation to Sarah Braunstein, W. W. Norton & Company, and NetGalley for the digital review copy. All opinions included herein are my own.
Bad Animals has so much to say – about identity and our desire to be seen and acknowledged for all we are capable of, both the good and the bad; about how to NOT allow others to take advantage of us; about writing and cultural appropriation.
And it all snuck up on me because, at first, my excitement for the book waned quite a bit as I began to read it. I don’t know what it was, whether it was Maeve herself or the on-the-surface dullness of her plight, but the story didn’t grab me as I thought it would. I felt for librarian Maeve – after all, being wrongly accused of inappropriate spying on a teenager’s sexual tryst in a library bathroom and then losing your job afterwards isn’t fair – but I just wasn’t very interested in it.
Sarah Braunstein knows how to write a multi-layered character and narrative, though, and I soon realized there was more to Maeve’s story than I thought. As I saw Maeve scrabble to regain her footing in life and battle a depressive funk – because not only has she lost her identity as a librarian, she’s also heartbroken that her daughter will not be returning home for the summer – she became more real to me. She says, thinks, and does things she knows she shouldn’t; she allows herself to be taken advantage of by so many people in her orbit and then learns to fight back; and she dwells in her miserableness. It doesn’t get more human than that.
And I appreciated all the discussion about writing and the cultural appropriation we sometimes see. When Maeve sticks up for the disadvantaged in this regard, I cheered.
But not only did I cheer, I also laughed. I empathized. I turned the pages as fast as I could.
I loved this book.
My sincerest appreciation to Sarah Braunstein, W. W. Norton & Company, and NetGalley for the digital review copy. All opinions included herein are my own.
October 12, 2023
Thanks to the author and publisher for the giveaway. This book had its ups and downs but mostly downs. In truth, it is a lot of nothing. Maeve, the central character, is almost unbearable. The other characters were of little to no use. I need a book where I love or love to hate a character or segment of the story. This book provided neither. Maeve is almost creep like in her actions. I like odd figures but not whining Maeve. I was hoping the book would improve as I progressed but it fell short on so many opportunities to become something more.
Not worth the time or effort unless you get it for free. Sorry. The writing was extremely generic as if a high schooler was writing it. Except for an affair, very little drama worth writing about. Another character, Libby, who I thought was going to emerge into something never did. Speaking of that, I hated the ending.
Not worth the time or effort unless you get it for free. Sorry. The writing was extremely generic as if a high schooler was writing it. Except for an affair, very little drama worth writing about. Another character, Libby, who I thought was going to emerge into something never did. Speaking of that, I hated the ending.
July 2, 2024
This book really isn't bad - I just need to come back to it!! I've had so many arcs on my plate that I wasn't in the mood for it the way I should've been... and the main character really annoyed me a couple of times.
July 3, 2025
this fell victim to my 5-star hangover
March 24, 2024
“Bad Animals”, by Sarah Braunstein, is immediately arresting! Librarian Maeve Cosgrove has been accused by sixteen-year-old Libby of watching her have sex with a boy in the library bathroom. Although she is cleared of that charge, she is laid off from the library job that she loves due to budget cuts.
Maeve starts to unravel, and the plot thickens!
Maeve’s favorite author Harrison Riddles, with whom she’s been corresponding, comes to town to write book about Willie, the husband of one of Maeve’s coworkers who escaped the Sudanese genocide as a boy.
Maeve forges a relationship with Harrison and Willie, in part to get her job back at the library.
And then there are Maeve’s daughter’s very very strange plants!
The plot is absolutely engrossing. I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough and I had no idea how it was going to end. All the characters are interesting and skillfully drawn so that the reader is intrigued at every turn and surprised by every secret revealed.
What I loved about “Bad Animals” was how unreliable and egotistical Maeve’s view of her world is. While not a first-person narrative, Braunstein writes a “close third person” from Maeve’s point of view, and it becomes deliciously skewed.
“Bad Animals” is about writing and appropriation and it’s a bit “meta” as we find ourselves wondering who should be telling what stories and who actually IS telling it?
In the end I was dazzled and impressed by Sarah Braunstein’s audacity and skill as a storyteller. I can’t wait to read her next one!
Thank you W.W. Norton for this unique novel.
Maeve starts to unravel, and the plot thickens!
Maeve’s favorite author Harrison Riddles, with whom she’s been corresponding, comes to town to write book about Willie, the husband of one of Maeve’s coworkers who escaped the Sudanese genocide as a boy.
Maeve forges a relationship with Harrison and Willie, in part to get her job back at the library.
And then there are Maeve’s daughter’s very very strange plants!
The plot is absolutely engrossing. I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough and I had no idea how it was going to end. All the characters are interesting and skillfully drawn so that the reader is intrigued at every turn and surprised by every secret revealed.
What I loved about “Bad Animals” was how unreliable and egotistical Maeve’s view of her world is. While not a first-person narrative, Braunstein writes a “close third person” from Maeve’s point of view, and it becomes deliciously skewed.
“Bad Animals” is about writing and appropriation and it’s a bit “meta” as we find ourselves wondering who should be telling what stories and who actually IS telling it?
In the end I was dazzled and impressed by Sarah Braunstein’s audacity and skill as a storyteller. I can’t wait to read her next one!
Thank you W.W. Norton for this unique novel.
April 12, 2024
A book about what happens when we wake suddenly to our selves during midlife. About decisions we never thought we'd make. About ways we'd never imagined ourselves to be. A book about living your animal. The characters are whole and flawed, despicable and lovable.
"It is weird and awful and exciting how totally a person can become a new thing. One day a person becomes an adulterer. Or a thief. Or a creep. Or worse, of course, much. One has never ever done a thing, and then one has. Sometimes in nightmares Maeve is responsible for a person's death, has killed a stranger, short a blurry figure in darkness. Now I am a murderer, is always the dream-thought. Now I am a person who has murdered. I will never not be. The dream-vibe returns to Maeve now, awake, in the middle of the night, Jack in the shower."
"It is weird and awful and exciting how totally a person can become a new thing. One day a person becomes an adulterer. Or a thief. Or a creep. Or worse, of course, much. One has never ever done a thing, and then one has. Sometimes in nightmares Maeve is responsible for a person's death, has killed a stranger, short a blurry figure in darkness. Now I am a murderer, is always the dream-thought. Now I am a person who has murdered. I will never not be. The dream-vibe returns to Maeve now, awake, in the middle of the night, Jack in the shower."
May 14, 2024
gives me more unhinged eleanor oliphant is completely fine vibes
April 28, 2024
Bad Animals by Sarah Braunstein
Thank you so much again partner BiblioLifestyle and w.w. Norton for my gifted copy.
Blurb:
A sexy, propulsive novel that confronts the limits of empathy and the perils of appropriation through the eyes of a disgraced through the eyes of a disgraced small-town librarian.
✨My thoughts:
This one is more of a character study than anything else.. which isn’t to say that’s a good or bad thing. I will say that I was drawn to this story because it has so much to offer. However, unfortunately it fell a little flat for me. I was also left with some questions but regardless of my questions, I wanted to finish the book, and I did. This book gives a lot of mixed feelings and I’d love to see more people selecting this for a book club to discuss! If this book is on your radar and TBR I’d say you should read it for yourself to decide how enjoyable it was for you. Bad Animals is out now!
Happy reading 📖
Thank you so much again partner BiblioLifestyle and w.w. Norton for my gifted copy.
Blurb:
A sexy, propulsive novel that confronts the limits of empathy and the perils of appropriation through the eyes of a disgraced through the eyes of a disgraced small-town librarian.
✨My thoughts:
This one is more of a character study than anything else.. which isn’t to say that’s a good or bad thing. I will say that I was drawn to this story because it has so much to offer. However, unfortunately it fell a little flat for me. I was also left with some questions but regardless of my questions, I wanted to finish the book, and I did. This book gives a lot of mixed feelings and I’d love to see more people selecting this for a book club to discuss! If this book is on your radar and TBR I’d say you should read it for yourself to decide how enjoyable it was for you. Bad Animals is out now!
Happy reading 📖
April 4, 2024
okay, so.
i didn't really 'get' it. i mean trust me, i got it...but i didn't see why the book went where it went or told what it told.
i started out SOOOO into it. i love a library/librarian premise, so i was hooked from the beginning. and honestly what the hell happened? sarah look in my eyes because i just need to know when this went so awry. i thought we were doing more of a 'unreliable narrator' and unhinged-weird woman vibe and it was still kinda that, but strayed so far from where it could have been impactful.
firstly, the characterization of maeve was all over the place. as readers we can see she's self-sabotaging, but i fail to see how that added anything to the plot as a whole. she was such a bizarrely written character. we get SO much (perhaps almost too much) of her motivations and actions, but yet they don't fit together in my head when i think of maeve as a whole. was that the point? like we get it, she's mentally ill-- but where do we go from here with this information?
plot wise we went from maeve being upset about losing her job at the library, to harrison coming to speak, to paige's constant problems (also: who tf cares about her and why was she even included??), to willie being a part of the book... just like complete and seemingly random plot points that disoriented the reader. conflicts were just put in here and there but not expanded on or circled back to so nothing felt connected. from some of the prose i sensed there was something larger the reader should be taking away from all of these people and their whiny ass problems, but i simply couldn't seem to find it? babe lot the plot. big time.
rated three stars because i finished it, so it obviously wasn't terrible, but it also was absolutely average (or below) in so many ways. characterization and plot wasn't great-- even the writing itself left something to be desired. idk. a skip in every way.
i didn't really 'get' it. i mean trust me, i got it...but i didn't see why the book went where it went or told what it told.
i started out SOOOO into it. i love a library/librarian premise, so i was hooked from the beginning. and honestly what the hell happened? sarah look in my eyes because i just need to know when this went so awry. i thought we were doing more of a 'unreliable narrator' and unhinged-weird woman vibe and it was still kinda that, but strayed so far from where it could have been impactful.
firstly, the characterization of maeve was all over the place. as readers we can see she's self-sabotaging, but i fail to see how that added anything to the plot as a whole. she was such a bizarrely written character. we get SO much (perhaps almost too much) of her motivations and actions, but yet they don't fit together in my head when i think of maeve as a whole. was that the point? like we get it, she's mentally ill-- but where do we go from here with this information?
plot wise we went from maeve being upset about losing her job at the library, to harrison coming to speak, to paige's constant problems (also: who tf cares about her and why was she even included??), to willie being a part of the book... just like complete and seemingly random plot points that disoriented the reader. conflicts were just put in here and there but not expanded on or circled back to so nothing felt connected. from some of the prose i sensed there was something larger the reader should be taking away from all of these people and their whiny ass problems, but i simply couldn't seem to find it? babe lot the plot. big time.
rated three stars because i finished it, so it obviously wasn't terrible, but it also was absolutely average (or below) in so many ways. characterization and plot wasn't great-- even the writing itself left something to be desired. idk. a skip in every way.
August 12, 2024
DNF @ 75%
Maeve Cosgrove loves her job at the Maine Public Library but it is suddenly, abruptly, put under scrutiny when a local girl accuses Maeve of spying on her and a local boy through the stalls in the bathroom. All accusations must be taken seriously but Maeve is in disbelief; doesn’t understand why this girl would choose to sabotage her. While fighting for her job, Maeve’s favorite author comes to town and the two end up spending a lot of time together.
Well to start, I think the cover is so pretty. I love those colors. I also enjoyed that there was representation of women in their 40s as I feel like a lot of books these days focus on under 40 so hearing a different perspective was refreshing. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t enjoy the book as a whole mainly because I didn’t enjoy the main character. She’s unlikeable, un-relatable, and just… doesn’t make sense as a person? The supporting characters weren’t enough to carry the story for me. As for the plot, it seemed convoluted and I don’t know if it was written to intentionally disorient readers but it did. Half of the time, I didn’t really understand what was happening or why and I PROMISE I WAS PAYING ATTENTION OK. This book seemed like an excuse for the author to check off every buzz word or buzz topic to validate her relevance and it came off grating to me.
Maeve Cosgrove loves her job at the Maine Public Library but it is suddenly, abruptly, put under scrutiny when a local girl accuses Maeve of spying on her and a local boy through the stalls in the bathroom. All accusations must be taken seriously but Maeve is in disbelief; doesn’t understand why this girl would choose to sabotage her. While fighting for her job, Maeve’s favorite author comes to town and the two end up spending a lot of time together.
Well to start, I think the cover is so pretty. I love those colors. I also enjoyed that there was representation of women in their 40s as I feel like a lot of books these days focus on under 40 so hearing a different perspective was refreshing. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t enjoy the book as a whole mainly because I didn’t enjoy the main character. She’s unlikeable, un-relatable, and just… doesn’t make sense as a person? The supporting characters weren’t enough to carry the story for me. As for the plot, it seemed convoluted and I don’t know if it was written to intentionally disorient readers but it did. Half of the time, I didn’t really understand what was happening or why and I PROMISE I WAS PAYING ATTENTION OK. This book seemed like an excuse for the author to check off every buzz word or buzz topic to validate her relevance and it came off grating to me.
October 28, 2024
I had no idea where this story was going, and I'm sure that was Sarah Braunstein's intention.
The writing is subtle, straight-forward, and although you can't point to the engine of the plot tension, it is constantly whirring underneath this story of a librarian in a small library in Maine.
So well done!
The writing is subtle, straight-forward, and although you can't point to the engine of the plot tension, it is constantly whirring underneath this story of a librarian in a small library in Maine.
So well done!
January 22, 2025
Absolutely inhaled this. I knew I’d love it when I saw it only has 3.4 stars on Goodreads. All the best books are in the 3s.
April 2, 2024
Maeve Cosgrove works in a small library in Maine. Despite not having a graduate degree in library science, she was hired and has proven her worth. She is even thought of as the heart of the library. She has written several letters to famous author Harrison Riddle, inviting him to give a reading at the library, and she has even attained a grant to finance his visit. What a coup!
One day, out of the blue, Maeve is called into her boss's office and told that a teenaged library patron named Libby has filed an abuse claim against her. Libby is a troubled teen and there are rumors that she set something on fire and had a relationship with one of her teachers. Libby is considered a Borderline Personality: impulsive, promiscuous, mercurial moods, elastic view of reality, etc. Maeve is astonished at the claim of abuse and vehemently proclaims her innocence. Shortly after this, Maeve is laid off, purportedly due to budget cuts, but Maeve can't help thinking she is being let go due to Libby's claim.
Maeve flounders without her job. She is in a happy marriage but her husband travels a lot and is currently in Florida visiting his ill mother. Her daughter Paige, to Maeve's chagrin, won't be coming home this summer. The library continues on without her, and even when Harrison Riddles accepts the offer to give a reading at the library, it is easily forgotten that Maeve was the catalyst that got him there. How can Maeve find her center and once again feel fulfilled?
Maeve is obsessed with Libby. At times she thinks she's a evil, and at other times she feels empathy for the very troubled girl. Maeve wonders (as do I) why the diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder is so freely given to females and not males. Maeve, in her obsession, often drives by the library looking for Libby. Why she does this is a mystery to her. Does she want to tell Libby she forgives her? Or does she want to connect with her in some way?
This novel examines many discordant themes with depth and acuity. Maeve's character is well-woven and her thoughts, motives, conflicts and actions viewed with a close-up lens. All aspects of Maeve's character are explored, an aspect of this novel that I loved. I highly recommend this book to anyone who loves character driven literary fiction.
One day, out of the blue, Maeve is called into her boss's office and told that a teenaged library patron named Libby has filed an abuse claim against her. Libby is a troubled teen and there are rumors that she set something on fire and had a relationship with one of her teachers. Libby is considered a Borderline Personality: impulsive, promiscuous, mercurial moods, elastic view of reality, etc. Maeve is astonished at the claim of abuse and vehemently proclaims her innocence. Shortly after this, Maeve is laid off, purportedly due to budget cuts, but Maeve can't help thinking she is being let go due to Libby's claim.
Maeve flounders without her job. She is in a happy marriage but her husband travels a lot and is currently in Florida visiting his ill mother. Her daughter Paige, to Maeve's chagrin, won't be coming home this summer. The library continues on without her, and even when Harrison Riddles accepts the offer to give a reading at the library, it is easily forgotten that Maeve was the catalyst that got him there. How can Maeve find her center and once again feel fulfilled?
Maeve is obsessed with Libby. At times she thinks she's a evil, and at other times she feels empathy for the very troubled girl. Maeve wonders (as do I) why the diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder is so freely given to females and not males. Maeve, in her obsession, often drives by the library looking for Libby. Why she does this is a mystery to her. Does she want to tell Libby she forgives her? Or does she want to connect with her in some way?
This novel examines many discordant themes with depth and acuity. Maeve's character is well-woven and her thoughts, motives, conflicts and actions viewed with a close-up lens. All aspects of Maeve's character are explored, an aspect of this novel that I loved. I highly recommend this book to anyone who loves character driven literary fiction.
July 7, 2024
This book seems to be concerned with points of view and the way we tell stories ABOUT ourselves and others TO ourselves and others.
I was pretty engrossed at the beginning, when Maeve, a Maine paraprofessional librarian who seems also to be dealing with midlife crisis and empty nest syndrome, experiences several difficult events at work as a result of budget issues as well as a supposedly false accusation by Libby, a supposedly troubled teen library user.
Maeve catastrophizes about all of this and proceeds to have a low key mental breakdown, which collides uncomfortably with the arrival onto the scene of Harrison Riddles, a successful author who is kind of like a suave litfic Brooklynite playboy version of Stephen King and to whom Maeve has been writing fangirl letters for some time begging him to visit the library and also to intervene on her behalf regarding her Troubles there. Turns out Riddles is more interested in writing about/appropriating the life of Sudanese refugee Willie, who once was another library teen patron but now is a young adult marrying Maeve’s hipster librarian colleague. Amidst all this, Maeve’s young adult daughter Paige is trotting the globe in pursuit of a horticulture/botany career and also left a bunch of mysterious plants behind in Maeve’s dubious care, and did I mention that Maeve is also married to a kindly and responsible if sort of dull accountant who is largely absentee attending to work and family business?
This is all interesting enough setup, and there are even more miscellaneous details woven in, but for me it never felt cohesive or realistic. I had trouble connecting with the story and especially the characters and all of these challenges to my empathy and attention just worsened for me as I went along. I ultimately decided that the book only makes sense and is appealing to me if Maeve dreamed or hallucinated or made up the whole thing, which I do not believe is the author’s intention at all, but that is the point of view I am choosing to take and the story I’m deciding to tell myself about this novel and my experience reading it.
This is one of those books I’m okay with just not being smart enough to appreciate. And I honestly just wanted way more Libby and to hear her side and story, if anything.
I was pretty engrossed at the beginning, when Maeve, a Maine paraprofessional librarian who seems also to be dealing with midlife crisis and empty nest syndrome, experiences several difficult events at work as a result of budget issues as well as a supposedly false accusation by Libby, a supposedly troubled teen library user.
Maeve catastrophizes about all of this and proceeds to have a low key mental breakdown, which collides uncomfortably with the arrival onto the scene of Harrison Riddles, a successful author who is kind of like a suave litfic Brooklynite playboy version of Stephen King and to whom Maeve has been writing fangirl letters for some time begging him to visit the library and also to intervene on her behalf regarding her Troubles there. Turns out Riddles is more interested in writing about/appropriating the life of Sudanese refugee Willie, who once was another library teen patron but now is a young adult marrying Maeve’s hipster librarian colleague. Amidst all this, Maeve’s young adult daughter Paige is trotting the globe in pursuit of a horticulture/botany career and also left a bunch of mysterious plants behind in Maeve’s dubious care, and did I mention that Maeve is also married to a kindly and responsible if sort of dull accountant who is largely absentee attending to work and family business?
This is all interesting enough setup, and there are even more miscellaneous details woven in, but for me it never felt cohesive or realistic. I had trouble connecting with the story and especially the characters and all of these challenges to my empathy and attention just worsened for me as I went along. I ultimately decided that the book only makes sense and is appealing to me if Maeve dreamed or hallucinated or made up the whole thing, which I do not believe is the author’s intention at all, but that is the point of view I am choosing to take and the story I’m deciding to tell myself about this novel and my experience reading it.
This is one of those books I’m okay with just not being smart enough to appreciate. And I honestly just wanted way more Libby and to hear her side and story, if anything.
March 31, 2024
Small town Maine librarian Maeve Cosgrove, is accused by a teen girl of spying on her and her boyfriend in the library bathroom. She's baffled by the accusation and shortly afterwards loses her job. Soon enough, she learns Harrison Riddles - an author she's been trying through multiple letters to host a reading at the library - has agreed to make the trip. Maeve starts a close friendship with Harrison which soon enough, turns into something more complex. Maeve realizes she's drifting aimlessly through her life. She experiences empty nest syndrome. Her daughter is too busy completing her masters. In the meantime, Harrison befriends Maeve's best friend's boyfriend - a Sudanese refugee. He's highly inspired by his life story and wastes no time to rush out his next novel. A highly intoxicating novel, one that goes in multiple directions at once while delivering a rich tale of a person who's struggling to persevere and succeed at the game of life.
October 16, 2024
Sarah Braunstein presents us with Maeve, a timid, apologetic Maine librarian. It’s a gamble; many readers will initially find Maeve uninteresting, not easily likable. She silently sees herself as an elevated being - though she would never, oh good lord no, agree with that description - overlooking the library and its visitors like an all seeing private guide. She organizes library events and assists someone searching a specific book with equal enthusiasm. She notes not only what people select to borrow, but what they’re wearing, where and how they sit, or lounge, and who they talk to. Who they might be - involved with. Maeve is interested, she tells herself, that’s all. Caring. But never interfering. A mouse.
The mouse falls prey to a mousetrap - the way those little creatures often do, by not scurrying away quickly enough - and Maeve’s life swerves suddenly off the road she’s long traveled. No longer able to fall back on the role she’s so neatly carved out for herself, Maeve’s hidden self begins to force its way outside. This was what I loved best about Bad Animals, watching as Maeve watches herself, careening between being shocked and pleased with her unfamiliar behaviour. The self effacing, sweet mouse is not what she appears; despite her best efforts, she’s human. Her hurt turns to anger. Her curiosity turns to outright meddling. Long married, she even gives way to lust for someone new.
Maeve’s marriage - and her relationship to her one child, an almost adult both needy and unreachable - increasingly represent her past self, a place she can return to for familiarity, but whose comforts have become wearying. Her husband is always loving, if often distracted, and frequently traveling. He’s not much for reading, Maeve’s passion. When together, they cuddle and watch the nostalgia channel, Columbo, Murder She Wrote.
I liked this novel better and better as it moved along. My only frustration came with the increasingly broad strokes used to paint the intruder into Maeve’s life, an author named Riddles. Oh, that name. Riddles is a Caucasian, straight, white, successful male author whose novels are written from the perspective of Other People, people of colour for example. He takes himself very, very seriously, signaling - as if needed - that we should not.
That said, the plot is clever and contains several small but satisfying surprises (there’s my alliteration homework for the week done). Days later, I still find myself thinking of Bad Animals, and how unlikely it seemed to me at the outset that Maeve the Librarian would hold such an emotional presence.
The mouse falls prey to a mousetrap - the way those little creatures often do, by not scurrying away quickly enough - and Maeve’s life swerves suddenly off the road she’s long traveled. No longer able to fall back on the role she’s so neatly carved out for herself, Maeve’s hidden self begins to force its way outside. This was what I loved best about Bad Animals, watching as Maeve watches herself, careening between being shocked and pleased with her unfamiliar behaviour. The self effacing, sweet mouse is not what she appears; despite her best efforts, she’s human. Her hurt turns to anger. Her curiosity turns to outright meddling. Long married, she even gives way to lust for someone new.
Maeve’s marriage - and her relationship to her one child, an almost adult both needy and unreachable - increasingly represent her past self, a place she can return to for familiarity, but whose comforts have become wearying. Her husband is always loving, if often distracted, and frequently traveling. He’s not much for reading, Maeve’s passion. When together, they cuddle and watch the nostalgia channel, Columbo, Murder She Wrote.
I liked this novel better and better as it moved along. My only frustration came with the increasingly broad strokes used to paint the intruder into Maeve’s life, an author named Riddles. Oh, that name. Riddles is a Caucasian, straight, white, successful male author whose novels are written from the perspective of Other People, people of colour for example. He takes himself very, very seriously, signaling - as if needed - that we should not.
That said, the plot is clever and contains several small but satisfying surprises (there’s my alliteration homework for the week done). Days later, I still find myself thinking of Bad Animals, and how unlikely it seemed to me at the outset that Maeve the Librarian would hold such an emotional presence.
dnf
April 12, 2024dnf@40%
September 5, 2025
Absolutely loved the experience of reading this novel, and applaud Braunstein for braving it.
(Grateful to my friend, the writer Robin Bissett, for not only putting this on my radar but also sending me a copy!)
(Grateful to my friend, the writer Robin Bissett, for not only putting this on my radar but also sending me a copy!)
January 25, 2024
My first 5-star read of the year goes to Bad Animals, a gem I received through a Goodreads giveaway. This novel delves into the life of Maeve, a librarian navigating emotions, mistakes, and the universal quest for worthiness after losing her job. The narrative skillfully explores the intricacies of human nature, surprising me with its depth and well-crafted storytelling.
Braunstein's ability to intertwine mystery, intrigue, lust, and betrayal into the narrative kept me eagerly turning pages. Maeve's journey is relatable and compelling, making the book difficult to put down. Even the open-ended conclusion didn't hinder my appreciation; instead, it added layer of contemplation that lingered after the final page. Highly recommended for those seeking a thought-provoking and engaging read.
Braunstein's ability to intertwine mystery, intrigue, lust, and betrayal into the narrative kept me eagerly turning pages. Maeve's journey is relatable and compelling, making the book difficult to put down. Even the open-ended conclusion didn't hinder my appreciation; instead, it added layer of contemplation that lingered after the final page. Highly recommended for those seeking a thought-provoking and engaging read.
June 9, 2024
Title, blurb, writing style, character development — excitingly brilliant. Good god, the writer definitely does know how to tell her story; it is one of the books where you know, after a few pages of reading, that you are reckoning with a writer who is careful about every word of hers. Who takes the writing seriously, more than anything else. The premise of the story is simple enough—we have a laid-off librarian who is ridiculously pissed about losing her job right after a scandal, then getting involved with her favorite writer who is staying in her town for a vacation, and being swayed by the glamor of his seemingly perfect life.
In terms of plot, the book doesn't make promises, but it definitely delivers. There is no grandiose thing happening at the centre of the story, it is almost like an everyday thing, people conversing, people being petty, people being hungry for validation and care from others. But she writes it unpretentiously. Writes it well. And, do I relate to a woman who has escapist tendencies, makes other people's problems her problems, and is very minutely clear-headed when it comes to many things yet happily myopic to the things close to heart? Abso-fucking-lutely.
In terms of plot, the book doesn't make promises, but it definitely delivers. There is no grandiose thing happening at the centre of the story, it is almost like an everyday thing, people conversing, people being petty, people being hungry for validation and care from others. But she writes it unpretentiously. Writes it well. And, do I relate to a woman who has escapist tendencies, makes other people's problems her problems, and is very minutely clear-headed when it comes to many things yet happily myopic to the things close to heart? Abso-fucking-lutely.
July 4, 2024
How you feel about the main character Maeve will pretty much determine your reaction to this novel…and she’s one intense and oftentimes exasperating person! Despite the too many storylines and the surfeit of characters, this is really all Maeve all the time…and if you can find your way into caring about her and her many challenges—despite her unreliability, her self-obsession and self-absorption, and her too vivid imagination—then this might be for you. I’m not sure it was for me. I do appreciate Braunstein’s writing and the ideas she’s playing with…but this is Maeve’s show, and in the end it was all too much for me.
June 11, 2025
you kind of have to "we listen and we don't judge" your way through this one to fight the urge to go like "dawg that's a felony" cuz they truly were some bad animals. normally i would not review but i feel kind of bad since this book is so literally underrated when the payoff was really proper. lolita level of gaslighting
September 9, 2024
3/5
At what point this book went from “I’m kind of bored and not seeing the point to this” to “What in the Moshfegh is going on?” — I’m not entirely sure.
I think, for the most part, I feel indifferent to this book in the sense that I liked it, but am not sure if it’s one I’ll think about much in the future. Perhaps a good filler book.
At what point this book went from “I’m kind of bored and not seeing the point to this” to “What in the Moshfegh is going on?” — I’m not entirely sure.
I think, for the most part, I feel indifferent to this book in the sense that I liked it, but am not sure if it’s one I’ll think about much in the future. Perhaps a good filler book.
April 8, 2024
❌Bad Animals by Sarah Braunstein. Maeve is a librarian in a small Maine town. The library is her life. Then, a young girl, Libby, accuses Maeve of watching Libby and a boy engage in sexual acts in a library bathroom. Maeve is devastated by the accusation and cannot get over it even though she is cleared. No spoilers so that is all I am giving you, but if you like character studies where there is an interesting plot, this one is for you. I loved Maeve and the depth of her character.
August 3, 2024
moral ambiguity 😋
June 3, 2024
It’s uncanny how a book can come along at the right time. I can’t tell you what motivated me to add the novel, ‘Bad Animals’ to my reading list a couple of months ago. Or, what moved it to the front of the pile. I just know that once I was a third of the way through, its message of self-deception seemed as if it were meant for me. It was like being in crowded theater and instead of someone falsely yelling fire, they were screaming, “Wake up you idiot!!” Accepting reality can be as dire as incineration. Thank you Sarah Braunstein for being the Town Cryer. You helped save me from my own peril.
Maeve Cosgrove is on the verge of having a midlife crisis. Her only daughter, a biology scholar intrigued by plants, has gone off to college in California, while Maeve maintains a modest life in her native Maine. She’s been a small town librarian for the last 15 years. Her husband is a successful accountant who suddenly has to travel a lot. Her vulnerability worsens when she gets laid off from her job due to budget cuts. Maeve thinks her dismissal has more to do with a teenager accusing her of being a Peeping Tom. She’s claimed to have watched the teenager having sex in the library restroom in the stall next to hers. Of course, Maeve denies the allegation and is officially cleared. But her layoff comes shortly after the accusation. Maeve feels shamed by innuendo. The chain of events that follows, leads her down a perilous path largely of her own making. The crux of which involves a famous novelist vacationing in Maine for the summer. He’s writing the story of a local Somalian refugee. A timely collaboration negotiated by Maeve, the wistful and former librarian. If the plot-line sounds complicated, it’s not. Just as the mysteries of life are often pretty basic as you start to unravel them. As much as we all like to blame extenuating circumstances for bad outcomes, it’s generally our own poor decision making that causes the most trouble. We tend to overthink. Some even imagine their fantasies being real.
‘Bad Animals’ is an especially well crafted story that’s not bogged down by narrative hyperbole. It’s written mostly in third person and Braunstein deploys a lot of ancillary characters to structure Maeve’s quandary. In fact, there might be too many. But there’s a debate at the novel’s core about whether the famous author should tell his subject’s life story in first person. Is it morally objectionable to take on another person’s voice? To, in effect, steal another person’s perspective and speak for them. Does it prioritize ego over empathy? It’s an ethical dilemma I hadn’t considered a writer could have. In terms of general behavior, is that kind of assimilation learned or instinctual? Which begs even more follow up questions. Is it ever right to impose our will? Is prioritizing only our wants, good for mental health? Is being selfish necessary for survival? Can an abuse of power, regardless by whom, ever be granted acclamation? Was it Sarah Braunstein’s book that got me wondering about my own life situation? Can we never escape ourselves? Or was I just projecting a deep dive into what my own future holds? As an elderly widower, do I accept the vision of the solitary swan left on the pond, or suffer the consequences of being an old fool? There are always difficult choices to make. Dealing with midlife crises and pondering old age issues aren’t that far removed from each other.
There’s a myriad of discussion topics I could go on about in reviewing ‘Bad Animals.’ Suffice it to say, the novel gave me plenty to think about. It would make a great Book Club selection. There would be a predictable diversity of opinion. Funny, how slightly better than average books can do that with such proficiency. Some would love it and I’m sure an equal number would probably hate it. Perfect for the times.
Maeve Cosgrove is on the verge of having a midlife crisis. Her only daughter, a biology scholar intrigued by plants, has gone off to college in California, while Maeve maintains a modest life in her native Maine. She’s been a small town librarian for the last 15 years. Her husband is a successful accountant who suddenly has to travel a lot. Her vulnerability worsens when she gets laid off from her job due to budget cuts. Maeve thinks her dismissal has more to do with a teenager accusing her of being a Peeping Tom. She’s claimed to have watched the teenager having sex in the library restroom in the stall next to hers. Of course, Maeve denies the allegation and is officially cleared. But her layoff comes shortly after the accusation. Maeve feels shamed by innuendo. The chain of events that follows, leads her down a perilous path largely of her own making. The crux of which involves a famous novelist vacationing in Maine for the summer. He’s writing the story of a local Somalian refugee. A timely collaboration negotiated by Maeve, the wistful and former librarian. If the plot-line sounds complicated, it’s not. Just as the mysteries of life are often pretty basic as you start to unravel them. As much as we all like to blame extenuating circumstances for bad outcomes, it’s generally our own poor decision making that causes the most trouble. We tend to overthink. Some even imagine their fantasies being real.
‘Bad Animals’ is an especially well crafted story that’s not bogged down by narrative hyperbole. It’s written mostly in third person and Braunstein deploys a lot of ancillary characters to structure Maeve’s quandary. In fact, there might be too many. But there’s a debate at the novel’s core about whether the famous author should tell his subject’s life story in first person. Is it morally objectionable to take on another person’s voice? To, in effect, steal another person’s perspective and speak for them. Does it prioritize ego over empathy? It’s an ethical dilemma I hadn’t considered a writer could have. In terms of general behavior, is that kind of assimilation learned or instinctual? Which begs even more follow up questions. Is it ever right to impose our will? Is prioritizing only our wants, good for mental health? Is being selfish necessary for survival? Can an abuse of power, regardless by whom, ever be granted acclamation? Was it Sarah Braunstein’s book that got me wondering about my own life situation? Can we never escape ourselves? Or was I just projecting a deep dive into what my own future holds? As an elderly widower, do I accept the vision of the solitary swan left on the pond, or suffer the consequences of being an old fool? There are always difficult choices to make. Dealing with midlife crises and pondering old age issues aren’t that far removed from each other.
There’s a myriad of discussion topics I could go on about in reviewing ‘Bad Animals.’ Suffice it to say, the novel gave me plenty to think about. It would make a great Book Club selection. There would be a predictable diversity of opinion. Funny, how slightly better than average books can do that with such proficiency. Some would love it and I’m sure an equal number would probably hate it. Perfect for the times.
August 10, 2024
This woman is insufferable. 300 pages of self-centered bullshit while she plays the victim.
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