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No One Tells You This
If the story doesn’t end with marriage or a child, what then?
This question plagued Glynnis MacNicol on the eve of her 40th birthday. Despite a successful career as a writer, and an exciting life in New York City, Glynnis was constantly reminded she had neither of the things the world expected of a woman her age: a partner or a baby. She knew she was supposed to feel bad about this. After all, single women and those without children are often seen as objects of pity, relegated to the sidelines, or indulgent spoiled creatures who think only of themselves.
Glynnis refused to be cast into either of those roles and yet the question remained: What now? There was no good blueprint for how to be a woman alone in the world. She concluded it was time to create one.
Over the course of her fortieth year, which this memoir chronicles, Glynnis embarks on a revealing journey of self-discovery that continually contradicts everything she’d been led to expect. Through the trials of family illness and turmoil, and the thrills of far-flung travel and adventures with men, young and old (and sometimes wearing cowboy hats), she is forced to wrestle with her biggest hopes and fears about love, death, sex, friendship, and loneliness. In doing so, she discovers that holding the power to determine her own fate requires a resilience and courage that no one talks about, and is more rewarding than anyone imagines.
Intimate and timely, No One Tells You This is a fearless reckoning with modern womanhood and an exhilarating adventure that will resonate with anyone determined to live by their own rules.
This question plagued Glynnis MacNicol on the eve of her 40th birthday. Despite a successful career as a writer, and an exciting life in New York City, Glynnis was constantly reminded she had neither of the things the world expected of a woman her age: a partner or a baby. She knew she was supposed to feel bad about this. After all, single women and those without children are often seen as objects of pity, relegated to the sidelines, or indulgent spoiled creatures who think only of themselves.
Glynnis refused to be cast into either of those roles and yet the question remained: What now? There was no good blueprint for how to be a woman alone in the world. She concluded it was time to create one.
Over the course of her fortieth year, which this memoir chronicles, Glynnis embarks on a revealing journey of self-discovery that continually contradicts everything she’d been led to expect. Through the trials of family illness and turmoil, and the thrills of far-flung travel and adventures with men, young and old (and sometimes wearing cowboy hats), she is forced to wrestle with her biggest hopes and fears about love, death, sex, friendship, and loneliness. In doing so, she discovers that holding the power to determine her own fate requires a resilience and courage that no one talks about, and is more rewarding than anyone imagines.
Intimate and timely, No One Tells You This is a fearless reckoning with modern womanhood and an exhilarating adventure that will resonate with anyone determined to live by their own rules.
294 pages, Hardcover
First published July 10, 2018
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14633 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 678 reviews
August 5, 2018
I love this courageous, gentle, thoughtful memoir. Glynnis MacNicol writes about her 40th year, in which she finds herself without a romantic partner or kids. Determined to avoid the stories and stereotypes so often told about single, childless women (e.g., objects of pity, selfish and spoiled creatures, invisible humans), she sets out to create a new, more empowered narrative. She embarks on a journey of self-discovery and connecting with others that entails family illness and struggle, travels to foreign countries and encounters with men, and embracing old friendships filled with support and shared history. Within this year, MacNicol has numerous insights about love, loneliness, meaning in life, and more, all while recognizing that taking ownership of her choices and her destiny brings about a radical fulfillment outside the confines of a conventional life.
As someone who has worried about not finding a husband while also enjoying his life without a boyfriend or potential husband, I related so much to MacNicol's memoir. I appreciate her strength and thoughtfulness in No One Tells You This. She details her process of coming to cherish her independence and her deep relationship with herself as a single woman without kids, while also honoring how she has sometimes wished for a husband and/or kids to fill the voids of loneliness. She approaches various relevant topics with perceptiveness and warmth, including how we extol the virtues of kids and romance on social media and leave out the negatives, the immense pleasure and depth of friendship despite its precariousness, the joy of mobility as an untethered person, her privilege as a white woman, and more. I feel like MacNicol put her whole heart into this book and it shows, through her personal epiphanies as well as the quiet, more ordinary moments she shares, like driving her sister's kids to school. A quote about friendship I loved, as she reflects on one of her closest friends getting married.
"I wasn't envious of Mauri. If anything, I was envious of our past lives together, and I was mourning a life I was losing. The resentment, I'd realized, was rooted in the fact that I never had any control over this upending of my life. It had never occurred to me that I was allowed to do anything but silently accept it. The fact that no one acknowledged that I had anything to be upset about made it all that much worse. It was hard work to root yourself so deeply in life that you could still love people and rely on them, knowing at any point they could make decisions that would leave you scrambling to find solid ground again. This was the better or worse of friendship, undeclared. What I wanted was for there to exist some way for me to say 'I'm happy and sad and not jealous' all at the same time, and also 'This is a loss and is still beautiful.' Maybe that was the wedding toast. 'We are really the ones giving you way. And it's hard. And I will miss our life. And I am still so happy for your happiness. And so proud of you.'"
MacNicol does a fantastic job integrating her journey toward contentment in independence with her caretaking of her mother who is dying from Parkinson's and Dementia. In the hands of a less skilled writer, these two seemingly disparate life threads may have joined together in an awkward, or at worst, insensitive way. But MacNicol honors the legacy of her mother's life with beautiful prose while still commenting on how she herself wants and has created a different life. She further dispels stereotypes of single, childless women by showing how deeply and lovingly she cared for her mother toward her life's end, which reminded me of my own grandmother's passing and made my heart hurt in the best possible way. MacNicol's vulnerability and quiet yet compelling portrayal of raw emotion, ranging from grief to loneliness to confidence and self-fulfillment, all contributed to this my five-star rating of this memoir. I want to share one more quote, about not having kids and living in the moment:
"I also knew without a doubt that the joy of my life was rooted in my ability to move when I wanted and how. I valued that ability to be in motion more than anything. I could hear the arguments in my head, the return of the magazine voices: 'You're going to regret this in ten years.' 'You don't know what you're missing.' Of course, I might regret it. I knew that. there were an endless number of things about my life I might end up regretting. Some I already did. But it seemed to me that going through life making decisions on what I might possibly feel in a future that may or may not come about was a bad way to live. I wasn't going to have a baby as an insurance policy against some future remorse I couldn't yet imagine. I had more respect for myself than that. The truth was, no one knows what they're missing in the end. You can only live your own life, and do your best with the outcome when you roll the dice."
Overall, a wonderful memoir I would recommend to anyone who has ever questioned the fullness of their life, or who has decided to live a life outside of society's traditional paths. While I feel that MacNicol could have gone a little deeper with some of the feminist (or even somewhat queer) ideas in the memoir, like further interrogating how society pressures women and feminine people to marry and have kids, I can see why she chose to keep the book closer to her own experience. No One Tells You This affirms the importance of self-determination in creating a life worth living. Thanks to MacNicol, I feel once again so excited to take ownership of my life, no man or child necessary.
As someone who has worried about not finding a husband while also enjoying his life without a boyfriend or potential husband, I related so much to MacNicol's memoir. I appreciate her strength and thoughtfulness in No One Tells You This. She details her process of coming to cherish her independence and her deep relationship with herself as a single woman without kids, while also honoring how she has sometimes wished for a husband and/or kids to fill the voids of loneliness. She approaches various relevant topics with perceptiveness and warmth, including how we extol the virtues of kids and romance on social media and leave out the negatives, the immense pleasure and depth of friendship despite its precariousness, the joy of mobility as an untethered person, her privilege as a white woman, and more. I feel like MacNicol put her whole heart into this book and it shows, through her personal epiphanies as well as the quiet, more ordinary moments she shares, like driving her sister's kids to school. A quote about friendship I loved, as she reflects on one of her closest friends getting married.
"I wasn't envious of Mauri. If anything, I was envious of our past lives together, and I was mourning a life I was losing. The resentment, I'd realized, was rooted in the fact that I never had any control over this upending of my life. It had never occurred to me that I was allowed to do anything but silently accept it. The fact that no one acknowledged that I had anything to be upset about made it all that much worse. It was hard work to root yourself so deeply in life that you could still love people and rely on them, knowing at any point they could make decisions that would leave you scrambling to find solid ground again. This was the better or worse of friendship, undeclared. What I wanted was for there to exist some way for me to say 'I'm happy and sad and not jealous' all at the same time, and also 'This is a loss and is still beautiful.' Maybe that was the wedding toast. 'We are really the ones giving you way. And it's hard. And I will miss our life. And I am still so happy for your happiness. And so proud of you.'"
MacNicol does a fantastic job integrating her journey toward contentment in independence with her caretaking of her mother who is dying from Parkinson's and Dementia. In the hands of a less skilled writer, these two seemingly disparate life threads may have joined together in an awkward, or at worst, insensitive way. But MacNicol honors the legacy of her mother's life with beautiful prose while still commenting on how she herself wants and has created a different life. She further dispels stereotypes of single, childless women by showing how deeply and lovingly she cared for her mother toward her life's end, which reminded me of my own grandmother's passing and made my heart hurt in the best possible way. MacNicol's vulnerability and quiet yet compelling portrayal of raw emotion, ranging from grief to loneliness to confidence and self-fulfillment, all contributed to this my five-star rating of this memoir. I want to share one more quote, about not having kids and living in the moment:
"I also knew without a doubt that the joy of my life was rooted in my ability to move when I wanted and how. I valued that ability to be in motion more than anything. I could hear the arguments in my head, the return of the magazine voices: 'You're going to regret this in ten years.' 'You don't know what you're missing.' Of course, I might regret it. I knew that. there were an endless number of things about my life I might end up regretting. Some I already did. But it seemed to me that going through life making decisions on what I might possibly feel in a future that may or may not come about was a bad way to live. I wasn't going to have a baby as an insurance policy against some future remorse I couldn't yet imagine. I had more respect for myself than that. The truth was, no one knows what they're missing in the end. You can only live your own life, and do your best with the outcome when you roll the dice."
Overall, a wonderful memoir I would recommend to anyone who has ever questioned the fullness of their life, or who has decided to live a life outside of society's traditional paths. While I feel that MacNicol could have gone a little deeper with some of the feminist (or even somewhat queer) ideas in the memoir, like further interrogating how society pressures women and feminine people to marry and have kids, I can see why she chose to keep the book closer to her own experience. No One Tells You This affirms the importance of self-determination in creating a life worth living. Thanks to MacNicol, I feel once again so excited to take ownership of my life, no man or child necessary.
February 18, 2018
This memoir isn't just for single ladies- it's for all of us who feel like life is passing us by and we can't see or fathom where the time has gone. It's for those trapped in memories of childhood and times past, feeling as though we are still living in those moments. It's also a memoir for anyone who has watched an older woman in their life who they loved deeply, become lost inside herself because of something beyond her control. Loved this book a whole lot- I don't hand out 5 star reviews very often!
March 30, 2018
Glynnis MacNicol was about to turn 40, and all-of-sudden, she began to question her life’s purpose. Up to that point, she’d had it all in her mind- a successful career and an exciting life. But should she want more? Should she want what society says every 40 year old woman should have?
This memoir chronicles MacNicol’s 40th year, as she takes a deeply personal journey of self-discovery. It’s a tough year for her emotionally, she has an ill family member, and she has to walk through many highs and lows.
Ultimately, what she discovers about being the master of her own fate is positively empowering. I was grateful for the brave and open way she told her story. No One Tells You This is insightful, bold, and thoughtful. Recommended for fans of memoirs, especially for those that challenge traditional social mores.
Thank you to Glynnis MacNicol, Simon Schuster, and Netgalley for the complimentary copy.
This memoir chronicles MacNicol’s 40th year, as she takes a deeply personal journey of self-discovery. It’s a tough year for her emotionally, she has an ill family member, and she has to walk through many highs and lows.
Ultimately, what she discovers about being the master of her own fate is positively empowering. I was grateful for the brave and open way she told her story. No One Tells You This is insightful, bold, and thoughtful. Recommended for fans of memoirs, especially for those that challenge traditional social mores.
Thank you to Glynnis MacNicol, Simon Schuster, and Netgalley for the complimentary copy.
March 23, 2019
Finally, a memoir telling us that being a 40 year-old childless, single woman might not be something that needs pitying. About time!
August 23, 2018
Not every woman is meant for couplehood, marriage, babies and PTA. And not every woman grows up wanting a life that includes all of those things. On the cusp of turning 40, the author has been thinking about her options and wondering why she isn’t more panicked about being in a relationship or her biological clock ticking down. With her mother going through serious health problems and her sister’s marriage experiencing a breakup as she’s about to have her 3rd child, it seems like things are falling apart around her in the family. When she’s called on to step in and help out, it gives her even more to think about. She begins to wonder if there even are any happy endings.
This book grew on me as I read it, kind of a mix of a midlife angst, and being single at age 40. Then there’s also the major angle of her mom’s illness, some very serious issues that she deals with, talking about her wonderful friends and her enjoyment in her job writing, and ability to travel and have adventures. Lots of food for thought in several areas and an enjoyable memoir of a Canadian writer living in NYC who travels. My thanks for the advance digital copy that was provided by NetGalley and author Glynnis MacNicol for my fair review.
Simon & Schuster
Published: July 10, 2018
My Bookzone blog on Wordpress: https://wordpress.com/post/bookblog20...
This book grew on me as I read it, kind of a mix of a midlife angst, and being single at age 40. Then there’s also the major angle of her mom’s illness, some very serious issues that she deals with, talking about her wonderful friends and her enjoyment in her job writing, and ability to travel and have adventures. Lots of food for thought in several areas and an enjoyable memoir of a Canadian writer living in NYC who travels. My thanks for the advance digital copy that was provided by NetGalley and author Glynnis MacNicol for my fair review.
Simon & Schuster
Published: July 10, 2018
My Bookzone blog on Wordpress: https://wordpress.com/post/bookblog20...
July 13, 2018
No One Tells You This-- is a debut memoir that highlights life of a unmarried single woman without the possibility of a socially expected life that includes a husband and family. Glynnis MacNicol is a full-time writer and co-founder of The List. Her award winning writing has been featured in numerous notable publications including the NYT, The Guardian and Forbes, she lives in NYC.
As a dutiful daughter and sister with too many friends to count, Glynnis led the extremely busy life of a professional woman. Soon after her arrival to help her sister care for her niece and nephew following pregnancy and the birth of a new baby, she flew to Toronto to check on her parents.
It was readily determined that Glynnis mother would require long term nursing care. Fortunately in Canada, this kind of nursing care was available to citizens-- without the extremely complicated and costly process of dealing with the U.S. Medicare system and spend-down requirement. About a year later, Glynnis returned to Toronto to sell her parent’s home, and visit her mother at her nursing care facility. Glynnis father was initially involved in the care of his wife-- until he wasn’t. Curiously, there was no further mention of him in the book.
On a writing assignment, Glynnis flew to Iceland, where her extraordinary trip and writing abilities were showcased. In Iceland, the atmosphere shifted and bubbled constantly, fueled by geo-thermal volcanic energy. Independent farmers built and operated their own mini power stations, bread was left in covered pots marked with small flags and baked on the beach.
On a glacial river raft tour, their vessel “careened wildly” down the rapids. The Australian women placed in the back of the boat, were drenched numerous times, cried and begged to return. At the front of the boat, their tour guide held Glynnis ever so tight (knowing she was single) hoping to get her email address to stay in touch.
In NYC, where Glynnis had lived for years, she moved into a rare apartment vacancy upstairs from one of her best friends. The dating apps were fun to chat with a variety of guys. Glynnis never felt like the stereotypical woman her age: supposedly needy, desperate, seeking a committed relationship to have a baby. A past relationship with a man she referred to as “646” left her wary and hesitant to renter the dating pool. Extracting herself from what little comfort she had with 646 wasn’t easy as she hoped it would be.
When Glynnis decided to drive cross country with a friend to San Francisco, a small Wyoming working ranch they visited opened up another world for her: she and her friend loved the natural beauty of the trees, meadows, hiking trails and wildlife. Returning to the ranch a month later on a writing assignment, she quickly discovered fly fishing in a icy river nearby was not her thing.
It was during a cruise when Glynnis began to fully appreciate her single status. Weren’t single women sometimes viewed with suspicion, associated with metaphorical dangerous beings as witches, furies, sorceresses and harpies? The married women she interviewed weren’t suspicious of her at all, didn’t clutch their husband’s in her presence— in fact, several of the women envied her! The single life was just too good; the freedom she had to come and go wherever she pleased was truly exhilarating! **With thanks and appreciation to Simon & Schuster via NetGalley for the DDC for the purpose of review.
As a dutiful daughter and sister with too many friends to count, Glynnis led the extremely busy life of a professional woman. Soon after her arrival to help her sister care for her niece and nephew following pregnancy and the birth of a new baby, she flew to Toronto to check on her parents.
It was readily determined that Glynnis mother would require long term nursing care. Fortunately in Canada, this kind of nursing care was available to citizens-- without the extremely complicated and costly process of dealing with the U.S. Medicare system and spend-down requirement. About a year later, Glynnis returned to Toronto to sell her parent’s home, and visit her mother at her nursing care facility. Glynnis father was initially involved in the care of his wife-- until he wasn’t. Curiously, there was no further mention of him in the book.
On a writing assignment, Glynnis flew to Iceland, where her extraordinary trip and writing abilities were showcased. In Iceland, the atmosphere shifted and bubbled constantly, fueled by geo-thermal volcanic energy. Independent farmers built and operated their own mini power stations, bread was left in covered pots marked with small flags and baked on the beach.
On a glacial river raft tour, their vessel “careened wildly” down the rapids. The Australian women placed in the back of the boat, were drenched numerous times, cried and begged to return. At the front of the boat, their tour guide held Glynnis ever so tight (knowing she was single) hoping to get her email address to stay in touch.
In NYC, where Glynnis had lived for years, she moved into a rare apartment vacancy upstairs from one of her best friends. The dating apps were fun to chat with a variety of guys. Glynnis never felt like the stereotypical woman her age: supposedly needy, desperate, seeking a committed relationship to have a baby. A past relationship with a man she referred to as “646” left her wary and hesitant to renter the dating pool. Extracting herself from what little comfort she had with 646 wasn’t easy as she hoped it would be.
When Glynnis decided to drive cross country with a friend to San Francisco, a small Wyoming working ranch they visited opened up another world for her: she and her friend loved the natural beauty of the trees, meadows, hiking trails and wildlife. Returning to the ranch a month later on a writing assignment, she quickly discovered fly fishing in a icy river nearby was not her thing.
It was during a cruise when Glynnis began to fully appreciate her single status. Weren’t single women sometimes viewed with suspicion, associated with metaphorical dangerous beings as witches, furies, sorceresses and harpies? The married women she interviewed weren’t suspicious of her at all, didn’t clutch their husband’s in her presence— in fact, several of the women envied her! The single life was just too good; the freedom she had to come and go wherever she pleased was truly exhilarating! **With thanks and appreciation to Simon & Schuster via NetGalley for the DDC for the purpose of review.
September 14, 2018
I expected to relate to the author as I'm also a child-free (abeit married) woman approaching 40. Instead, I found myself not trusting the author's credibility or self-awareness as she sees herself as an edgy, progressive New Yorker, yet repeatedly mentions wearing fur. No edgy, progressive, modern woman wears fur. PERIOD.
May 21, 2018
As a single woman over 40 who has chosen not to marry or have children I can't tell you how excited I was to receive this book. It gets so tiresome when people are constantly making you feel less than complete because you lack a partner and a family. Like most of us Glynnis is still learning how to navigate through life, making mistakes and figuring it out along the way. I very much related to how everyone around Glynnis relies so deeply on her, after all she has the time and freedom to take care of everyone else right? 'snorts'
This is a very personal memoir and she is not afraid to share everything, whether it's pretty or not. Her mother's decline due to Parkinson's is heartbreaking. It's especially poignant that her mother wanted to get married and have a family to make sure that she wouldn't die alone then the disease took away her memories and she died isolated by her own mind. The takeaway from this book for me is that sh*t happens that we have no control over. Situations and people change constantly and the goal in life is not to reach as many of the traditional milestones as possible but rather to live the happiest life possible, whatever form that may take.
I received this book for free through a Goodreads Firstreads giveaway but this has not influenced my review in any way.
This is a very personal memoir and she is not afraid to share everything, whether it's pretty or not. Her mother's decline due to Parkinson's is heartbreaking. It's especially poignant that her mother wanted to get married and have a family to make sure that she wouldn't die alone then the disease took away her memories and she died isolated by her own mind. The takeaway from this book for me is that sh*t happens that we have no control over. Situations and people change constantly and the goal in life is not to reach as many of the traditional milestones as possible but rather to live the happiest life possible, whatever form that may take.
I received this book for free through a Goodreads Firstreads giveaway but this has not influenced my review in any way.
September 26, 2018
Life begins at 40. Is there any truth to that old chestnut? That’s what Glynnis MacNicol set out to find when she turned 40. From Toronto, she’d lived in New York City for years and loved her life of writing, entrepreneurship, friends, meals, bars, laughter and annual rituals. What she didn’t have was a partner or a child, so in the eyes of many she knew she was a failure. It was a momentous year what with her mother’s Parkinson’s rapidly going downhill, her sister a newly single parent giving birth to her third child, and MacNicol’s business and writing projects morphing and taking off. Amid heavy responsibilities, travel – even just quick trips – allowed her to feel free. She could jet off to Iceland for a long weekend or take a river cruise in France and write up her experiences for a freelance gig. When she accompanied a friend on a cross-country road trip, she became entranced with a Wyoming horse ranch and realized she could drop everything and go back there for a month to handle their social media outreach and write a book proposal on puberty.
There was a lot of appeal for me in how MacNicol sets out her 40th year as an adventure into the unknown – “There was no blueprint yet for this: I was going to have to create it for myself. … I was not married to my life as it was. It was not written in stone.” She is daring and candid in examining her preconceptions and asking what she really wants from her life. And she tells a darn good story: I read this much faster than I generally do with a memoir.
There was a lot of appeal for me in how MacNicol sets out her 40th year as an adventure into the unknown – “There was no blueprint yet for this: I was going to have to create it for myself. … I was not married to my life as it was. It was not written in stone.” She is daring and candid in examining her preconceptions and asking what she really wants from her life. And she tells a darn good story: I read this much faster than I generally do with a memoir.
March 9, 2019
Things that annoyed me about this book:
1) Glynnis MacNicol is so self centred she thinks she's the only unmarried, childless woman over 40 in the history of history. She keeps on saying "there is no road map". She doesn't seem to realise she is part of a long tradition, and certainly isn't interested in exploring it.
2) Glynnis MacNicol appears to think that, when someone gets married, they get given a map for the rest of their lives.
3) Everyone she meets loves her, and wants her to tell them about her life and, especially about New York.
4) She's obsessed with the fact she lives in New York, and mentions it every two pages. She never mentions how she lives in New York, since she is Canadian.
5) She wears fur. That's just weird.
6) She assesses every man she meets as a potential partner.
7) She talks about having struggles, but doesn't really explore them, so it looks like everything comes to her really easily, and she's unbearably smug.
8) She sleeps with a guy while away from home. The next day, when he leaves, she realises she doesn't even know his last name. She "laughs and laughs". Why? It's called a one night stand. related: He says "you're the best conversationalist I've ever met". Ugg.
9)This was great concept done badly. What a shame.
I'm married, but CFBC. Maybe I'll write a book where I actually explore some of the issues that this book promised, and failed to. Disappointing.
1) Glynnis MacNicol is so self centred she thinks she's the only unmarried, childless woman over 40 in the history of history. She keeps on saying "there is no road map". She doesn't seem to realise she is part of a long tradition, and certainly isn't interested in exploring it.
2) Glynnis MacNicol appears to think that, when someone gets married, they get given a map for the rest of their lives.
3) Everyone she meets loves her, and wants her to tell them about her life and, especially about New York.
4) She's obsessed with the fact she lives in New York, and mentions it every two pages. She never mentions how she lives in New York, since she is Canadian.
5) She wears fur. That's just weird.
6) She assesses every man she meets as a potential partner.
7) She talks about having struggles, but doesn't really explore them, so it looks like everything comes to her really easily, and she's unbearably smug.
8) She sleeps with a guy while away from home. The next day, when he leaves, she realises she doesn't even know his last name. She "laughs and laughs". Why? It's called a one night stand. related: He says "you're the best conversationalist I've ever met". Ugg.
9)This was great concept done badly. What a shame.
I'm married, but CFBC. Maybe I'll write a book where I actually explore some of the issues that this book promised, and failed to. Disappointing.
July 21, 2018
"No one told me about the joy!" - Glynnis MacNicol's explanation of what no one told her about being single and childless in her 40s on the Call Your Girlfriend Summer Books 2018 podcast episode. No one told her about the joy, freedom, or stability. I knew instantly I needed to read her book. I don't explicitly plan on being single in my 40s, but I will probably be childless, and if my present-day choices are any indication of my romantic future, I will shirk the institution of marriage for something more open and less defined. MacNicol bemoaned that there were not many stories like hers made available for public consumption, and she's right. There are so few women like her I can think to look to for an indication of what my future might hold. I constantly thought about my women's studies graduate program advisors while reading; two unmarried women in a sea of wedding rings and hyphenated last names. Although I'm only 25, I'm from a tiny town in Oklahoma, and I currently live in Texas. Plenty of my friends have been in significant long-term relationships (many punctuated by extravagant parties and legal definitions), or are on their way down the aisle already. Even without marriage, not many of my friends are ever single for a period lasting longer than a month. Lesbians may not bring a u-haul to the second date, but they do bring it to the two-month anniversary. For many of my friends, they seem happy. Even the ones with earth-shattering heartbreaks every six or so months, they insist on letting Facebook/Instagram/Twitter/Tumblr know that they're the happiest they've ever been with their newest partner several weeks later. The first of my circle of local lesbian friends just had their first baby, and plenty of others have made it clear that sperm donors and IVF procedures are not too far down the road. What I'm saying is, even though MacNicol is a straight woman in her early 40s, and I am a lesbian in my mid-twenties, I could relate to a lot of what she wrote. I wondered how much of what she described would be my life in the next 20 or so years. Would friends come over to my hip apartment and seethe with envy? Would they complain to me about their spouses and children one moment and try to explain how marriage and parenthood were indescribable blessings the next? Would a world of travel and financial freedom unfold before me, so much that I would feel overwhelmed by the possibility of it all? Would my hitched friends describe my lifestyle as "single lady fun time" in grouptexts about weekend brunch plans despite my potentially overwhelming responsibilities to my chosen family? Would my "chosen family" see their connection to me as expendable while I was looking upon it as one of the most meaningful connections in my life (speaking as an unmarried, childless woman and also as a woman who has had to cut ties with her abusive parents)? When MacNicol wrote, “The obligations of friendship are unwritten," after feeling guilty for wanting to ask a friend to accompany her to a funeral, it hit me in the stomach. I realize it may be silly to be already worrying about how my life might look in 15-20 years, but I'm not worrying exactly, just speculating. Marveling about the possibilities stretched out before me.
P.S.
I'm so glad MacNicol didn't make men a significant part of her story. Unlike similarly-marketed books (*cough*What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding*cough*), MacNicol didn't wait to write about her adventures until some man came into her life to show readers she had finally found meaning or a happily ever after. She didn't even make her dating life a central part of the text. I felt this made her story much easier to relate to for me, personally. She's the cool, independent, self-actualized aunt I hope to be someday.
P.S.
I'm so glad MacNicol didn't make men a significant part of her story. Unlike similarly-marketed books (*cough*What I Was Doing While You Were Breeding*cough*), MacNicol didn't wait to write about her adventures until some man came into her life to show readers she had finally found meaning or a happily ever after. She didn't even make her dating life a central part of the text. I felt this made her story much easier to relate to for me, personally. She's the cool, independent, self-actualized aunt I hope to be someday.
August 24, 2018
I really like the idea of this book and its message -- that women can and should be free to make decisions based solely on their own wont and not on societal or familiar pressures -- but I found the protagonist's voice to be a bit insufferable. It felt very privileged (though the author does acknowledge this) and at times braggadocious.
Read
July 27, 2018No rating. This book was not for me. A mother of 6 asked me to read this with a snicker. Wait until I see her next week!
When I have had repeated jaw surgeries (minor and very troublesome birth defect), my largest trouble has been my HUMONGOUS gag reflex. It wasn't tested half as much, not even after 4 decades of doing a "repeat" fix, as the beginning of this book. General anesthesia would have been welcome. Surgery and book. Both. It's probably worthwhile and gets better with context, Glynnis's tale? From the ratings, I'm sure it does. But not by/for my time.
Honestly, please forgive me- but I'm Sicilian in culture and nuance. Most probably incompatible with making your own Mother's death after a terrible and long, long illness (in which you were not present) a focus for your own self-centered beginning to a memoir. Because it's all about you and your grief, and your "importance".
I did get two pages past that, and then hit something even worse.
Glad I didn't live in this "youth" (40 is YOUNG) era's cognitions. Super glad.
When I have had repeated jaw surgeries (minor and very troublesome birth defect), my largest trouble has been my HUMONGOUS gag reflex. It wasn't tested half as much, not even after 4 decades of doing a "repeat" fix, as the beginning of this book. General anesthesia would have been welcome. Surgery and book. Both. It's probably worthwhile and gets better with context, Glynnis's tale? From the ratings, I'm sure it does. But not by/for my time.
Honestly, please forgive me- but I'm Sicilian in culture and nuance. Most probably incompatible with making your own Mother's death after a terrible and long, long illness (in which you were not present) a focus for your own self-centered beginning to a memoir. Because it's all about you and your grief, and your "importance".
I did get two pages past that, and then hit something even worse.
Glad I didn't live in this "youth" (40 is YOUNG) era's cognitions. Super glad.
August 30, 2018
Good in places. Not what I was expecting from the reviews or the description. I was expecting a book that is like, hey, it's ok to be 40 and not want kids and not want to get married. This was more of a memoir of a woman who was like...is it ok to not want kids and not want to get married? Do I want kids and want to get married? So, it wasn't really what I personally was looking for. Also, not really knowing much of the author, I wasn't invested in her enough to hear about her every day goings on. So for me, the book was a miss with a few excerpts here and there that were hits.
November 8, 2018
Within the first 50 pages of this book, MacNicol complains about being a late-30's year old woman who has "made it" as a writer, earning a 6-figure income, and having too many friends. Like MacNicol, I, myself, am a 38 year old writer; however, I have NOT made it, am barely scraping by financially, and have suffered serious depressions because I feel alone. Frankly, after reading the beginning of this book, I loathed MacNicol and could not bare to continue reading. Really, I just wanted to punch her.
October 8, 2018
4+ stars
Probably the most relatable memoir I've ever read. At the start of this book Glynnis MacNicol is turning 40, and is single, childless and happy. Not fitting the mould for the milestones women are expected to have reached by this age, as the blurb notes "there was no good blueprint for how to be a woman alone in the world" at this age (and in this day and age). No One Tells You This follows her creating that blueprint in the year after her fortieth birthday - which involves a trip to Iceland, a road trip across America and a stay in a ranch in the back end of nowhere.
All of this is examined within the context of being a single woman whose friends are reaching these milestones, and how MacNicol fits in to all this: in terms of being a support for those friends, yet not having someone who you can turn to for support -- this is a very basic description of what Glynnis conveys much more eloquently:
I'm not quite at this stage of life (just yet) but it is coming up fast, and I can already relate to her experiences wholeheartedly - having gone through my twenties single whilst most of my close friends were in long-term relationships. It's important to note that MacNicol describes this in a matter of fact way; not complaining but just acknowledging the reality of being a single woman in a world where women are still expected to tick of these milestones even if they're not sure they are exactly what they want to do.
I won't reveal more of what she discovers during this year of her life, but I think my review shows how much I enjoyed this unique look a womanhood in the 21st century. I can't wait to read more from her!
Probably the most relatable memoir I've ever read. At the start of this book Glynnis MacNicol is turning 40, and is single, childless and happy. Not fitting the mould for the milestones women are expected to have reached by this age, as the blurb notes "there was no good blueprint for how to be a woman alone in the world" at this age (and in this day and age). No One Tells You This follows her creating that blueprint in the year after her fortieth birthday - which involves a trip to Iceland, a road trip across America and a stay in a ranch in the back end of nowhere.
All of this is examined within the context of being a single woman whose friends are reaching these milestones, and how MacNicol fits in to all this: in terms of being a support for those friends, yet not having someone who you can turn to for support -- this is a very basic description of what Glynnis conveys much more eloquently:
"The problem was the encroaching sense that I had somehow stepped outside of ritual and was always going to be a guest star, forever celebrating the milestones of others without ever starring in my own. What cultural markers were there for women other than weddings and babies? How else do women make the progression of their lives? Would I forever be piggybacking on others? That was the depressing thought."
I'm not quite at this stage of life (just yet) but it is coming up fast, and I can already relate to her experiences wholeheartedly - having gone through my twenties single whilst most of my close friends were in long-term relationships. It's important to note that MacNicol describes this in a matter of fact way; not complaining but just acknowledging the reality of being a single woman in a world where women are still expected to tick of these milestones even if they're not sure they are exactly what they want to do.
"Was it always going to be like this? I wondered. This rollercoaster of doubt and elation? Was this the price and the reward for not committing to some larger, more established idea of life?"
I won't reveal more of what she discovers during this year of her life, but I think my review shows how much I enjoyed this unique look a womanhood in the 21st century. I can't wait to read more from her!
April 12, 2018
I'm not even sure where to begin reviewing No One Tells You This. This book is breathtaking and poignant to the point of surreal. Glynnis leads by example: by taking readers through her trials, tribulations and moments of peace as partners in her journey, she imparts the kind of wisdom that can't be achieved by smacking you over the head with proselytization, but instead flows from a deep well of empathy and experience.
Her writing is expert and never crossing the line into glib or saccharine, which is so easy to do in this genre. I feel like I'm writing about this as if it's some sacred tome but, to me, this is a near-perfect example of what writing in this arena can be.
Her writing is expert and never crossing the line into glib or saccharine, which is so easy to do in this genre. I feel like I'm writing about this as if it's some sacred tome but, to me, this is a near-perfect example of what writing in this arena can be.
Read
October 28, 2019In my own quirky way, this memoir also seems related to my five senses book. It's about many things, and of particular interest to me, the experience of living in New York City.
August 21, 2018
Five stars not enough. I loved every word of this book and I am evangelizing about it to anyone who will listen. It's not long, but I savored it over several days because I just didn't want it to end. The story of the author's 40th year weaves together her struggles to be a long-distance caregiver to her dying mother and maintain her relationships with her father and sister (while her sister has a baby in the midst of this), all while coming to terms with her happiness and independence as a single, childless woman in a big city during a milestone year. I loved how she described her friends - clearly chosen family - including the importance of those close relationships, and how hard she had to work at maintaining her friendships. Adult friendships are work and when I was single, I had to do even more work so as not to be resentful at doing a disproportionate amount of maintenance. Now that I'm getting ready to be a parent, I'll think about this book often and make sure I keep putting in the work to keep my chosen family close.
I could go on and on, but will end by saying that the anecdote about lying on the couch on Thanksgiving in particular spoke to me deeply, and I will think of it during every holiday for at least the next year.
I could go on and on, but will end by saying that the anecdote about lying on the couch on Thanksgiving in particular spoke to me deeply, and I will think of it during every holiday for at least the next year.
December 30, 2018
“It was a truth universally acknowledged that by age forty I was supposed to have a certain kind of life, one that, whatever else it might involve, included a partner and babies...If this story wasn’t going to end with a marriage or a child, what then?”
I’ve been trying to come up with the words to explain how much this book means to me. I’ve read some incredible nonfiction this year but this memoir about a woman creating her own blueprint for the single life was the book I *needed* to read. It was so good for my soul. I viscerally related to Glynnis MacNicol’s experiences, particularly the way she embraced her singleness, and felt so understood. Her words so deeply resonated with me, especially with my 39th birthday around the corner. While I remain open to meeting the love of my life, the last few years I’ve focused more on what my ideal single life looks like because I fervently believe my life has value even if it looks different from how I imagined. To that end, I've been hungry for stories of other single women who are doing the same.
It’s a rich memoir, whether she’s asking herself what 40 means to her and whether she wants to have kids as a single woman or she’s grappling with the decline and eventual death of her mother or she’s reveling in the realization she has a life people envy her for. Best of all, it’s a memoir exploring singleness that does not end with the author in a relationship. MacNicol isn’t following a conventional path and I soaked up her wisdom as someone who is a few years ahead of me. Highly, highly recommended.
I’ve been trying to come up with the words to explain how much this book means to me. I’ve read some incredible nonfiction this year but this memoir about a woman creating her own blueprint for the single life was the book I *needed* to read. It was so good for my soul. I viscerally related to Glynnis MacNicol’s experiences, particularly the way she embraced her singleness, and felt so understood. Her words so deeply resonated with me, especially with my 39th birthday around the corner. While I remain open to meeting the love of my life, the last few years I’ve focused more on what my ideal single life looks like because I fervently believe my life has value even if it looks different from how I imagined. To that end, I've been hungry for stories of other single women who are doing the same.
It’s a rich memoir, whether she’s asking herself what 40 means to her and whether she wants to have kids as a single woman or she’s grappling with the decline and eventual death of her mother or she’s reveling in the realization she has a life people envy her for. Best of all, it’s a memoir exploring singleness that does not end with the author in a relationship. MacNicol isn’t following a conventional path and I soaked up her wisdom as someone who is a few years ahead of me. Highly, highly recommended.
June 29, 2018
The writing speeds along; it's a quick read with many head nodding moments, but by and large I found myself wondering what the book is even about. It seems like the chapters should dovetail chronologically, but I still found the timeline and characters hard to follow. I wonder if it would work better if it were developed into a work of fiction, or if it were presented as a collection of essays.
March 12, 2018
An cool and eccentric story about nostalgia and aging. Would recommend a read if this is a genre you're already interested in, but since I'm not that emotionally invested in memoirs I just found this okay.
April 19, 2019
Is that what it is, is that what’s going to happen to me in my 40ies: believing in magic numbers and seeing phantoms?
What is this book actually about?
It’s not much about anything, really. It’s a collection of scattered reflections of a nervous woman who checks in with her mood on every page to see any improvement. These mood swings are as erratic as they are frequent, leaving no sense of consistency or thought development.
The plotline is non-existent. If it’s because it’s autobiographical, and therefore lacks excitement that is otherwise found in fiction, or an author believes that being a New-Yorker is exciting enough for the rest of the world population, I do not dare to speculate.
While there are thoughts I’d like to explore more, the author does enhance it with more details, examples, or even a train that would follow such thoughts. These are dropped or hidden everywhere, and searching for interesting bits is akin to an Easter Egg Hunt.
The author picks up and drops cohesive elements. That makes the book even more confusing. For example, in the beginning she speculates on the magic of numbers – she continues the line with the numbers for a couple of pages only to drop it off completely.
Another example is the heroine embarking on a new project — a book about puberty. It could offer to be a carcass against which she could beef up her narrative. However, this storyline also appears only in patches only to be abandoned as a plotline.
The author contradicts herself a lot. That is not because she juxtaposes conflicting ideas (which is fine for a topic as complex and comprehensive as this one). That is because she mainly talks about her mood and reaction to the events around her. And since her mood is in swing, there is simply no development, coherence or even narrative. And that is exactly why I am disappointed with the book: it promised insights, it promised to help navigating one’s life, it promised storytelling.
None of that happened.
And what struck me is that this self-reliant, no-bullshit hell-bent New York woman resorts to magic realism, first entertaining herself with magic of numbers and then feeling the ghost of her late mother.
Coming back to what exactly no one told you. Let me spare you $15 and tell you once and for all.
1. Life of a single woman in her 40 is fun if she has interesting socialite friends who lend her fun and unusual experiences as part of their lives. But even this scenario —by far unattainable for most women— does not fill in the space that family (a partner and /or kids) do.
2. Family life is not a Swiss-bank proof of happiness and is not guaranteed to stay with one forever.
3. Life’s tricky for both.
Here’s your piece of wisdom for $15.
What is this book actually about?
It’s not much about anything, really. It’s a collection of scattered reflections of a nervous woman who checks in with her mood on every page to see any improvement. These mood swings are as erratic as they are frequent, leaving no sense of consistency or thought development.
The plotline is non-existent. If it’s because it’s autobiographical, and therefore lacks excitement that is otherwise found in fiction, or an author believes that being a New-Yorker is exciting enough for the rest of the world population, I do not dare to speculate.
While there are thoughts I’d like to explore more, the author does enhance it with more details, examples, or even a train that would follow such thoughts. These are dropped or hidden everywhere, and searching for interesting bits is akin to an Easter Egg Hunt.
The author picks up and drops cohesive elements. That makes the book even more confusing. For example, in the beginning she speculates on the magic of numbers – she continues the line with the numbers for a couple of pages only to drop it off completely.
Another example is the heroine embarking on a new project — a book about puberty. It could offer to be a carcass against which she could beef up her narrative. However, this storyline also appears only in patches only to be abandoned as a plotline.
The author contradicts herself a lot. That is not because she juxtaposes conflicting ideas (which is fine for a topic as complex and comprehensive as this one). That is because she mainly talks about her mood and reaction to the events around her. And since her mood is in swing, there is simply no development, coherence or even narrative. And that is exactly why I am disappointed with the book: it promised insights, it promised to help navigating one’s life, it promised storytelling.
None of that happened.
And what struck me is that this self-reliant, no-bullshit hell-bent New York woman resorts to magic realism, first entertaining herself with magic of numbers and then feeling the ghost of her late mother.
Coming back to what exactly no one told you. Let me spare you $15 and tell you once and for all.
1. Life of a single woman in her 40 is fun if she has interesting socialite friends who lend her fun and unusual experiences as part of their lives. But even this scenario —by far unattainable for most women— does not fill in the space that family (a partner and /or kids) do.
2. Family life is not a Swiss-bank proof of happiness and is not guaranteed to stay with one forever.
3. Life’s tricky for both.
Here’s your piece of wisdom for $15.
July 27, 2019
The problem was the encroaching sense that I had somehow stepped outside of ritual and was always going to be a guest star, forever celebrating the milestones of others without ever starring in my own. What cultural markers were there for women other than weddings and babies? How else do women mark the progression of their lives?
Being single and childless at 40, the author takes stock of her life and explores the realizations she arrived at over the course of her fortieth year. I’m a shy introvert who couldn’t relate to how many friends the author had to rely on, or the financial freedom to travel at will, but everything else was pretty spot on.
August 12, 2018
5 stars
Finally, the kind of smart, feminist, nostalgic, narrative-driven memoir I was looking for! I thoroughly enjoyed this. I can't even remember what fortuitous podcast/article/random Twitter thread brought me to learn about this book, but I bought it a couple days after its publication, and I'm so glad to have had this perfect summer read when I did. Do you ever think about things that way--like, what if I hadn't heard about this book when I did, and never did end up learning about it because the buzz died away? I'm sure I've missed out on so many great books because of that unavoidable phenomenon. There are simply too many books and too little time, alas. But back to this wonderful nonfiction treat!
Leave any expectations about what a memoir about being single and childless at 40 should contain at the door; Canadian-born writer Glynnis MacNicol treats the subject with a refreshing amount of nuance and open-mindedness that I haven't seen in other examples of the genre. She avoids the kind of reflexive self-defense you would expect and instead proffers examples of both the good and the bad aspects (and the gray area in-between) of being "alone" at 40. Rather than rating different life choices on a scale, she demonstrates that what really matters is that you make the right choice for you, not what you feel you must do based on societal expectations or family pressures. There's no wrong way to live when it comes to deciding on whether to pursue marriage and/or raising children.
MacNicol comes to these conclusions after embarking on a year-long journey of self-discovery the day she turns 40. She braces herself for a year of loneliness but soon finds herself more busy and in-demand than ever--just not necessarily in a romantic sense. She hurdles several life challenges, including the failing health and eventual death of her mother, the birth of her second nephew while her sister and brother-in-law are separated, and the marriages and first births of her closest friends. As she prioritizes being there for her family and friends, romance takes a bit of a back seat (besides a fun and flirty encounter with an Icelandic tour guide and a Tinder date with a deceptively young-looking 60-year-old).
MacNicol ruminates on the importance and value of lifelong friendships and argues that in some ways they can "fill" the role of a life partner. I say "fill" because, as the author believes, there isn't really a hole to fill--some people are content with being single. On that note, at one point the author decides to move into the upstairs apartment of her friend's house. "That [hole] was now filled, for the most part, in one way or another. Not the way I'd ever thought it would be, but is anything?" I found this section really moving because it made me think of the lifelong friends I have, and how any time spent with them feels like coming home in a sense.
MacNicol's relationship with her mother plays a big role in the book. Her mother has Parkinson's and quickly develops Dementia as well, and MacNicol feels like she is losing her mother before her actual death--what she describes as the "long goodbye." She looks back on the life decisions her mother made, and notes ironically that her mother had done everything she could to not die alone, but because her disease makes her unable to recognize her family, she might as well be alone. I appreciated how MacNicol makes clear that she didn't want to be like her mom, but still loved and respected her and learned a lot from her. The parts about her mother were some of the most moving.
The question of motherhood inevitably comes up, and MacNicol handles it with aplomb. She thinks about it even more while she is in her Canadian hometown, helping her sister with her children after the birth of her new nephew. She also has many conversations about it with friends back in New York so that the reader gets every perspective possible. Many of her friends who have children tell her that she's lucky to still be independent and that they didn't feel like they had been properly warned about how hard motherhood would be. Other friends who are childless like MacNicol but who want to have children push back against that kind of negativity, noting how hard it is to hear such things when they are trying to become pregnant and keep a positive attitude. So basically, there's no one correct attitude to have concerning kids and motherhood.
There are also some great subtly feminist moments and thoughts in the book. I love when MacNicol pointed out that Hemingway was able to be so adventurous because he always had a wife to make his life easier and clear the way for his trips and writing. She observes that thanks to the generosity and attention of her friends, she is similarly blessed. "I was the other woman in their lives, and together they combined to make the perfect husband in mine." Such an unconventional but accurate idea! At the same time as MacNicol is pretty overtly feminist in her life and ideals, she doesn't shame other people who have more traditional views (insofar as they only apply them to themselves, of course).
MacNicol's descriptions of her travels were entertaining and thought-provoking. The final trip section (where she drives cross-country with her friend who is moving, and they take an extended pit stop at a dude ranch in Wyoming) was especially great. It inspires her into a leap of self-confidence that really pays off.
On a minor note, I was fascinated by MacNicol's perspective on healthcare, since she is someone born in Canada but living underinsured in New York (I say underinsured because at one point she pays an exorbitant cost for medicated eyedrops because her insurance doesn't cover prescriptions). Speaking as a liberal here, I felt kind of validated because while she acknowledges her frustration at having to be on a waiting list to get her mother into a senior care home, she always reminds herself that it would be so much worse if her family was uninsured in the US. So that frequent argument we hear from the right that "Canadians don't like their socialized healthcare" is sometimes true... but not the full picture. But this is not a politics review, so I'll move on. Just something I found interesting, in addition to all the other little moments of Canadiana.
I feel somehow like I'm leaving things out in this review, but only because MacNicol covers so much ground so effortlessly. I loved how smoothly and cohesively the narrative played out--one thing that has stopped me from fully enjoying memoirs in the past is the "essay-style" some memoirists employ. I much prefer this kind of chronological story form. I felt a strong connection to the author by the end of the book.
I strongly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys memoirs about family, gender, and friendship, and who appreciates narration with a frank but humorous voice. I actually was brought to tears a couple times (most notably during the epilogue), so if emotion is your jam, look forward to that too :P.
This is a book I plan to revisit again in the future, especially in a little over a decade as I approach 40 myself. I will also look forward to reading more from MacNicol in the future!
Finally, the kind of smart, feminist, nostalgic, narrative-driven memoir I was looking for! I thoroughly enjoyed this. I can't even remember what fortuitous podcast/article/random Twitter thread brought me to learn about this book, but I bought it a couple days after its publication, and I'm so glad to have had this perfect summer read when I did. Do you ever think about things that way--like, what if I hadn't heard about this book when I did, and never did end up learning about it because the buzz died away? I'm sure I've missed out on so many great books because of that unavoidable phenomenon. There are simply too many books and too little time, alas. But back to this wonderful nonfiction treat!
Leave any expectations about what a memoir about being single and childless at 40 should contain at the door; Canadian-born writer Glynnis MacNicol treats the subject with a refreshing amount of nuance and open-mindedness that I haven't seen in other examples of the genre. She avoids the kind of reflexive self-defense you would expect and instead proffers examples of both the good and the bad aspects (and the gray area in-between) of being "alone" at 40. Rather than rating different life choices on a scale, she demonstrates that what really matters is that you make the right choice for you, not what you feel you must do based on societal expectations or family pressures. There's no wrong way to live when it comes to deciding on whether to pursue marriage and/or raising children.
MacNicol comes to these conclusions after embarking on a year-long journey of self-discovery the day she turns 40. She braces herself for a year of loneliness but soon finds herself more busy and in-demand than ever--just not necessarily in a romantic sense. She hurdles several life challenges, including the failing health and eventual death of her mother, the birth of her second nephew while her sister and brother-in-law are separated, and the marriages and first births of her closest friends. As she prioritizes being there for her family and friends, romance takes a bit of a back seat (besides a fun and flirty encounter with an Icelandic tour guide and a Tinder date with a deceptively young-looking 60-year-old).
MacNicol ruminates on the importance and value of lifelong friendships and argues that in some ways they can "fill" the role of a life partner. I say "fill" because, as the author believes, there isn't really a hole to fill--some people are content with being single. On that note, at one point the author decides to move into the upstairs apartment of her friend's house. "That [hole] was now filled, for the most part, in one way or another. Not the way I'd ever thought it would be, but is anything?" I found this section really moving because it made me think of the lifelong friends I have, and how any time spent with them feels like coming home in a sense.
MacNicol's relationship with her mother plays a big role in the book. Her mother has Parkinson's and quickly develops Dementia as well, and MacNicol feels like she is losing her mother before her actual death--what she describes as the "long goodbye." She looks back on the life decisions her mother made, and notes ironically that her mother had done everything she could to not die alone, but because her disease makes her unable to recognize her family, she might as well be alone. I appreciated how MacNicol makes clear that she didn't want to be like her mom, but still loved and respected her and learned a lot from her. The parts about her mother were some of the most moving.
The question of motherhood inevitably comes up, and MacNicol handles it with aplomb. She thinks about it even more while she is in her Canadian hometown, helping her sister with her children after the birth of her new nephew. She also has many conversations about it with friends back in New York so that the reader gets every perspective possible. Many of her friends who have children tell her that she's lucky to still be independent and that they didn't feel like they had been properly warned about how hard motherhood would be. Other friends who are childless like MacNicol but who want to have children push back against that kind of negativity, noting how hard it is to hear such things when they are trying to become pregnant and keep a positive attitude. So basically, there's no one correct attitude to have concerning kids and motherhood.
There are also some great subtly feminist moments and thoughts in the book. I love when MacNicol pointed out that Hemingway was able to be so adventurous because he always had a wife to make his life easier and clear the way for his trips and writing. She observes that thanks to the generosity and attention of her friends, she is similarly blessed. "I was the other woman in their lives, and together they combined to make the perfect husband in mine." Such an unconventional but accurate idea! At the same time as MacNicol is pretty overtly feminist in her life and ideals, she doesn't shame other people who have more traditional views (insofar as they only apply them to themselves, of course).
MacNicol's descriptions of her travels were entertaining and thought-provoking. The final trip section (where she drives cross-country with her friend who is moving, and they take an extended pit stop at a dude ranch in Wyoming) was especially great. It inspires her into a leap of self-confidence that really pays off.
On a minor note, I was fascinated by MacNicol's perspective on healthcare, since she is someone born in Canada but living underinsured in New York (I say underinsured because at one point she pays an exorbitant cost for medicated eyedrops because her insurance doesn't cover prescriptions). Speaking as a liberal here, I felt kind of validated because while she acknowledges her frustration at having to be on a waiting list to get her mother into a senior care home, she always reminds herself that it would be so much worse if her family was uninsured in the US. So that frequent argument we hear from the right that "Canadians don't like their socialized healthcare" is sometimes true... but not the full picture. But this is not a politics review, so I'll move on. Just something I found interesting, in addition to all the other little moments of Canadiana.
I feel somehow like I'm leaving things out in this review, but only because MacNicol covers so much ground so effortlessly. I loved how smoothly and cohesively the narrative played out--one thing that has stopped me from fully enjoying memoirs in the past is the "essay-style" some memoirists employ. I much prefer this kind of chronological story form. I felt a strong connection to the author by the end of the book.
I strongly recommend this book to anyone who enjoys memoirs about family, gender, and friendship, and who appreciates narration with a frank but humorous voice. I actually was brought to tears a couple times (most notably during the epilogue), so if emotion is your jam, look forward to that too :P.
This is a book I plan to revisit again in the future, especially in a little over a decade as I approach 40 myself. I will also look forward to reading more from MacNicol in the future!
August 18, 2018
Certainly single women of a certain age should read this, but so should anybody who's ever felt the twinge of an outsider or wondered why their path isn't neatly lining up with everybody else's around them. MacNicol writes elegantly and cleverly of a life lived outside the lines, with no map to guide you forward, and both how terrifying and satisfying it can be, sometimes in the very same instance.
July 9, 2018
Thank you to Simon&Schuster Canada for a free copy of this book for an honest review. This is a very engaging memoir by the author as she comes to some revelations as to the direction her life is going. Glynnis is celebrating her 40th birthday, alone, as the book begins. She lives a very busy life in NYC but has never found ‘the one’ or had children. As she contemplates this she has to come to terms with whether her life, as it is, is enough or if she should be trying harder to find a partner or to become a single mother. She is also very busy as a part time caretaker for her mother who has an all consuming fatal illness. Glynnis flies back and forth to Toronto, her hometown, to assist with her mom and to help her recently separated sister as she has her third child. The author leads a very fulfilling life and she has to decide whether this is enough or if she will have regrets going forward by not following the traditional route of being a wife and mother. The writing is great and the book kept my interest throughout. It is compelling to see what decisions Glynnis makes about what her life will look like after age 40 and beyond.
June 27, 2018
**I won this book in a Goodreads Giveaway, and there several spoilers in this review**
This is a very honest memoir that really gives you a glimpse of how complicated life gets as you grow older and how hard it is to know if you've made the right choices.
MacNicol describes with candor what it was like losing her mother slowly to degenerative disease, helping her sister with 3 kids including a newborn after the husband walked out (and thoroughly exemplifying how kids can be incredibly annoying and yet loved) as well as several terrible relationships full of red flags with bad men. This isn't a person who has decided against marriage and kids and is completely satisfied without, it's one who is constantly wishing she had it even though she likes her independence. I think she would jump right into it if she came across a decent guy who was in a similar place in life.
Chapter 19 onwards gets inspiring, starting with onslaught of married friends with children starting to open up to her about how much they wish they had her life, and how they are equally torn between loving their families and hating the lives they have. It just shows how no one is sure of their decisions and everyone thinks someone else has made the better decision. She also goes on a roadtrip trailing Laura Ingall's series (loved that callback to my childhood :') and then to Wyoming where she falls in love with the nature there and has a lot of good experiences.
I'm not sure I understood whether she plans to go back to there in the end, or if she will stay in Toronto (which she returns to as her mother gets worse). The following of her mothers progression is heart-breaking and reminds me of what happened with my grandmother. And it makes me pray I never have to go through it with my own mother.
Overall, this book is very sobering in its portrayal of life. But it's comforting in how it tells you whatever you are doing, you are probably not completely screwing up, and others out there are as envious of you for something as you are of them. And that any life you choose will be filled with good as well as bad.
Anyways, this book deserves 5 stars for how well it communicates life as it is and makes you feel so many emotions all at once. Recommend whether you are in anything close to her situation or not.
This is a very honest memoir that really gives you a glimpse of how complicated life gets as you grow older and how hard it is to know if you've made the right choices.
MacNicol describes with candor what it was like losing her mother slowly to degenerative disease, helping her sister with 3 kids including a newborn after the husband walked out (and thoroughly exemplifying how kids can be incredibly annoying and yet loved) as well as several terrible relationships full of red flags with bad men. This isn't a person who has decided against marriage and kids and is completely satisfied without, it's one who is constantly wishing she had it even though she likes her independence. I think she would jump right into it if she came across a decent guy who was in a similar place in life.
Chapter 19 onwards gets inspiring, starting with onslaught of married friends with children starting to open up to her about how much they wish they had her life, and how they are equally torn between loving their families and hating the lives they have. It just shows how no one is sure of their decisions and everyone thinks someone else has made the better decision. She also goes on a roadtrip trailing Laura Ingall's series (loved that callback to my childhood :') and then to Wyoming where she falls in love with the nature there and has a lot of good experiences.
I'm not sure I understood whether she plans to go back to there in the end, or if she will stay in Toronto (which she returns to as her mother gets worse). The following of her mothers progression is heart-breaking and reminds me of what happened with my grandmother. And it makes me pray I never have to go through it with my own mother.
Overall, this book is very sobering in its portrayal of life. But it's comforting in how it tells you whatever you are doing, you are probably not completely screwing up, and others out there are as envious of you for something as you are of them. And that any life you choose will be filled with good as well as bad.
Anyways, this book deserves 5 stars for how well it communicates life as it is and makes you feel so many emotions all at once. Recommend whether you are in anything close to her situation or not.
January 15, 2019
Wanted to love this but was profoundly disappointed. The author seems less concerned with exploring the idea of approaching 40 than she is with recounting shallowly flattering anecdotes and lists of people that adore her. Her late mother seems merely to be introduced one-dimensionally as a traditional, passive and un-traveled contrast to her Very Special Daughter™️ who goes on trips and wears furs and is constantly commanding the attention of men. I cringed when the author put the finishing touches on describing her mother’s funeral by adding that her loosely-planned eulogy was so eloquent that funeral-goers couldn’t stop complimenting her. I’m a single woman approaching 40 and was hoping for something inspirational or thought provoking; instead, this was just a long-winded, directionless humblebrag.
March 10, 2019
MacNicol's book read less like memoir, more like an essay on self discovery.
As a 40 something woman with no children who also recently lost my mother I empathized and found her writing most powerful when circling on these themes. The element of being alone and trying to find her own peace with it felt superfluous, it almost should have been a separate book and context. There were elements where the ideas attached themselves (the one of sitting alone in the front pew during her mom's funeral come to mind) but I found this to be more of an ode to loss than choosing to be solitude.
My advice: read this as a book about how to grieve, and less of a book about finding partnership in life choices to be childless.
As a 40 something woman with no children who also recently lost my mother I empathized and found her writing most powerful when circling on these themes. The element of being alone and trying to find her own peace with it felt superfluous, it almost should have been a separate book and context. There were elements where the ideas attached themselves (the one of sitting alone in the front pew during her mom's funeral come to mind) but I found this to be more of an ode to loss than choosing to be solitude.
My advice: read this as a book about how to grieve, and less of a book about finding partnership in life choices to be childless.
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