I would give this less than 1 star if I could. The author is shallow and self involved but worse is whoever is responsible for the marketing of this book, they are cruel. If this was marketed as a normal memoir, centred around a desire to have children, it would be an inane read - probably not worthy of publishing. Nell Frizzell has led an extremely ordinary life and has perfectly pedestrian aspirations (that's not an insult, though she does deserve some insults). But by marketing this book as self-help adjacent, the marketers have put something into the world that is truly possible of doing harm to women.
After reading this book, I felt utterly despondent. This book triggered a severe episode of depression. Only now, months after reading it, I can see that this book was the trigger and in seeing that I feel angry. I feel sure I am not the only woman who went to this book looking for comfort and advice around a sensitive topic, one that is intrinsically tied to self-worth, and instead was hit over the head with the most mainstream narrative of what defines feminine success and worthiness. I didn't go to the book thinking analytically, thinking that it might be the kind book imbued with the stifling worship of motherhood and youth that is always the anvil hanging over the head of a woman living differently. Because of the marketing I had my defences down, and so the book was capable of causing more harm than a straight memoir would have been. I assumed the author would be a woman sensitive to the pain of unhappily not fitting in to the impossibly narrow image of a worthy feminine woman.
Frizzell is an extremely shallow thinker. She attempts to include feminist analysis in this book, but it is obviously that she has not read feminist literature broadly. The feminism included is truly 101, the kind of stuff I would expect a 15 year old to be fluent in. It is basic to the point that it insults the reader. It pays a lip service to intersectional ideas that is so, so shallow and only serves to emphasise how little Frizzell is capable of empathising with those living differently to her.
If this had been written and marketed as a straightforward memoir about a woman who desperately wanted to be a mother, but pushed that aside because she felt this desire made her less attractive to men, we would have a book that would be fairly dull but would speak to the experiences of many women. At the core of that book, we would have a real feminist issue - women do put their desires aside in the pursuit of heterosexual love, and why is that normal? Do the men in these relationships know or care that their partners are doing it? That book would not have hurt me or triggered an episode of depression.
Instead, we have a book that left me in tears. The author and marketers start this book claiming that they will speak to heterosexual women who are in their 20s and 30s, surrounded by peers who are starting families, and who are not happily partnered or on a path to motherhood. I expected the book to offer some comfort to myself, and others, in this very common situation by pointing out that a life can be well lived without following a conventional part. I thought I might leave the book with some new ways of thinking about choosing to not go down the "boyfriend, marriage, baby, fade into obscurity path" that seems to be the only life our culture is capable of imagining for women. I thought I might also leave the book with some tools to feel worthy in a culture that sends a very clear message that after a certain age a women who is not a mother is nothing at all, and perhaps a reminder that comparison (to those who have chosen the conventional path) is the thief of joy.
However, Frizzell worships motherhood in the same way most in our culture do. Her struggle to become a mother is very, very brief. She has a baby in her arms by age 33. That is the crux of what I think is so harmful about this book - it is marketed in such a way that it will surely draw in women who truly are heading towards the end of their fertility window (late 30s, early 40s) and I am sure these women will be absolutely crushed by this book.
Once Frizzell achieves her goal of pregnancy and has a baby, the rest of the book is spent bemoaning the sleepless nights (I have heard that babies keep you up at night, believe it or not) and recounting the difficulties of parenthood. Sure, motherhood is difficult, but that is not what women in the "panic years" went to this book for. We know, we've heard it before. We wouldn't have picked up a parenting memoir, precisely because that is the kind of book with the potential to be triggering and hurtful if you long for children but can not make motherhood happen for yourself!!!
The lip service Frizzell pays to the difficulty of women who do not have children, after an age when they are expected to, is just plain mean. I got the feeling this was written when Frizzell was still finding motherhood so difficult and tiring that she truly wasn't capable of empathy towards others.
Please do not read this book if you are truly struggling with the issues this book claims to cover. And if you, like me, are here because you went looking for others who finished this book with a pit in their stomach - I'm so sorry, I hope you are OK. I am sending you my love, I understand your pain and you are justified in feeling it. You can live a good life, a life full of love, without it looking like Nell Frizzell's. The currency of youth and the cult of motherhood are tools of patriarchy, they have kept heterosexual women caged and encouraged us to settle for woefully unempathetic and unstimulating men. It can be hard to see the worth in living differently when you are surrounded by those choosing the conventional path, like Frizzell, but every life has worth and I believe that our soul's might find peace by living authentically. Besides, we are probably all descendents from long lines of women pushed down the conventional path - perhaps some of them would have found joy in being able to live differently, I would like a book about that!