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256 pages, Paperback
Expected publication April 14, 2026
Thank you to NetGalley and Greenleaf Book Group Press for providing an e-copy of Rules for Mothers by Julie Swendsen Young (publication date: April 14, 2026). Young delivers a moving, unflinching look at the complicated emotional terrain of motherhood—love and suffocation, devotion and loss of self, gratitude and resentment—all existing side by side.
The novel opens in 1984 with a deeply unsettling scene: Elly Sparrow appears to be in a psychiatric hospital, in the aftermath of a breakdown that’s clearly intertwined with the weight of being a mother. From there, Young rewinds the clock to the year before, when Elly’s seven-year-old daughter, Jane, asks a deceptively simple question: “When you were a little girl, did you want to be a mommy?” It lands like a stone. It’s the kind of question that cracks open everything many women are told they should feel—and everything they’re afraid to admit they don’t.
Young threads in glimpses of Elly’s earlier self: driven, adventurous, hopeful. And she sets this against the mid-1980s backdrop, when cultural messages to women were full of contradiction—be fulfilled, but not too fulfilled; be ambitious, but don’t neglect the home; have a career, but also make it look effortless. Elly is living inside that double-bind, and what makes the story so effective is how clearly Young shows that the “problem” isn’t Elly’s love or commitment—it’s the lack of emotional, practical, and societal support for women who are expected to do everything, beautifully, without complaint.
Elly is married to Dan, a lawyer barreling toward partnership. His long hours—stretching late into the night—leave Elly as the default parent in every way. Dan embodies a familiar 1980s expectation: the wife who manages the home, the children, and her own needs quietly, while he focuses on work. The marriage dynamic is painful to read at times; if gaslighting is a trigger for you, consider this your warning. The book captures how normalized dismissive, undermining “conversation” could be—especially when women tried to name their exhaustion or ask for help.
So what happens when one person is carrying the daily physical and emotional labor of four children, the oldest only seven? Young follows Elly into an identity crisis that feels both intimate and universal: who am I now, and who am I allowed to be? Rules for Mothers doesn’t question whether Elly loves her children—she does, fiercely. What it interrogates is the cost of being a “good mother” when goodness is defined as self-erasure.
This is a powerful story—especially for anyone who remembers (or wants to understand) the particular pressures placed on women in the 1980s. Julie Swendsen Young captures the aching struggle for self-fulfillment inside motherhood with compassion, honesty, and an emotional clarity that lingers.