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Good Eggs
In the tradition of the acclaimed graphic memoirs Fun Home and Persepolis comes a funny, insightful, and deeply moving book about learning to appreciate what we have when we can't seem to get what we want.
For Phoebe Potts, the path to maternal fulfillment has not been easy. All her friends seem to get pregnant, but she can't conceive for all her trying. As Phoebe and her husband, Jeff, navigate the emotionally and physically fraught world of fertility experts, she takes stock of what matters in the rest of her life and reflects on the winding journey to her true calling as an artist. From her days as an amateur union organizer in Texas to her spiral into paralyzing depression in Mexico; from her soul-shrinking, all-for-the-benefits stint as an administrative assistant at a fancy university in Cambridge to her flirtation with rabbinical school, Phoebe illuminates the bumpy road to vocational and personal contentment. Her wonderful, hilarious, and utterly original drawings capture the truly good eggs—an unforgettably nutty mother; a devoted husband; a team of therapists, hairdressers, and landladies; friends; and a sidekick housecat—that together expand the definition of what really makes a family.
For Phoebe Potts, the path to maternal fulfillment has not been easy. All her friends seem to get pregnant, but she can't conceive for all her trying. As Phoebe and her husband, Jeff, navigate the emotionally and physically fraught world of fertility experts, she takes stock of what matters in the rest of her life and reflects on the winding journey to her true calling as an artist. From her days as an amateur union organizer in Texas to her spiral into paralyzing depression in Mexico; from her soul-shrinking, all-for-the-benefits stint as an administrative assistant at a fancy university in Cambridge to her flirtation with rabbinical school, Phoebe illuminates the bumpy road to vocational and personal contentment. Her wonderful, hilarious, and utterly original drawings capture the truly good eggs—an unforgettably nutty mother; a devoted husband; a team of therapists, hairdressers, and landladies; friends; and a sidekick housecat—that together expand the definition of what really makes a family.
272 pages, Hardcover
First published September 21, 2010
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701 people want to read
About the author
Phoebe Potts
1 book30 followersPhoebe Potts grew up in Brooklyn and then on Martha's Vineyard. A graduate of Smith College, she received her MFA from the Maine College of Art in Portland. She lives with her husband, artist Jeffrey Marshall, in Gloucester, Massachusetts.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 131 reviews
March 14, 2016
The title Good Eggs is a play on her struggles with infertility and the "good eggs"--friends, family--in her life that have made it meaningful. It is about being happy in spite of not getting what you want. I liked it, didn't love it, but Phoebe is increasingly likable. Maybe her relationship with her husband is the best part of the memoir. She shares other stuff--her work in Chiapas, her struggles with depression, her relationship with her mother, and others--to show that the struggle to be happy can be a long one.
As a graphic memoir it feels artistically cramped--the panels are crammed with stuff, no room to breathe; I didn't love the art, really. The publisher's plug talks about it in the same vein as Fun Home and Persepolis but it is not nearly at that level. As a story it is all over the place, it deals with more than it needs to (I mean not all the anecdotes seem to be germane to the apparent central purpose), but overall it is pleasant and interesting and sometimes pretty funny and she seems nice even through her struggles.
As a graphic memoir it feels artistically cramped--the panels are crammed with stuff, no room to breathe; I didn't love the art, really. The publisher's plug talks about it in the same vein as Fun Home and Persepolis but it is not nearly at that level. As a story it is all over the place, it deals with more than it needs to (I mean not all the anecdotes seem to be germane to the apparent central purpose), but overall it is pleasant and interesting and sometimes pretty funny and she seems nice even through her struggles.
March 25, 2015
There is something about the desperation that comes with wanting to have children (if you want to have children) that makes you blind to other people's life experiences. Like this.
Is this really what straight people think about queer fertility and desire to make a family "unnaturally"? I mean, it's laughable except... I think she's serious? So, I hate you too, Phoebe Potts. I wanted to like this book, but I couldn't.
Is this really what straight people think about queer fertility and desire to make a family "unnaturally"? I mean, it's laughable except... I think she's serious? So, I hate you too, Phoebe Potts. I wanted to like this book, but I couldn't.
July 20, 2014
I'm tempted to blame either hormones or circumstance but this is the second book in a row where I have found a heterosexual relationship entirely adorable and may have said "aww" out loud once or twice. I understand not even a fraction of the frustration and sadness of wanting a baby and failing to conceive, but with her sweet husband, a house, and a cat as somewhat of a child stand-in, sort of, it seems like Phoebe has a wonderful life even in the absence of baby. Her husband tells her he doesn't know what to do with himself when she's gone. That's so cute. It doesn't fill all of the loss of wanting to be a parent and not being able to make it happen, but you can tell they never lack for love regardless and that cuts some of the underlying sadness of the book.
The only issue I have with the book is that even though I think she's mostly making fun of herself for her white liberal guilt, there's still a little bit of a sense of tokenism in the way she writes about her lesbian couple friends and her Asian hairdresser and her Guatemalan doctor. Ehh. It doesn't make her unsympathetic or anything, just is kind of annoying at times.
The only issue I have with the book is that even though I think she's mostly making fun of herself for her white liberal guilt, there's still a little bit of a sense of tokenism in the way she writes about her lesbian couple friends and her Asian hairdresser and her Guatemalan doctor. Ehh. It doesn't make her unsympathetic or anything, just is kind of annoying at times.
December 20, 2010
There were a lot of things I liked about this book.
The exploration of Potts' journey to her current vocation. Her expressive drawing style. The ending. But I didn't love it, and I felt like a lot of her panels were crowded and/or hard to read (without clear direction about which order to read things). The parts NOT about her fertility struggles were by far the most interesting parts.
I feel like she could have written an entire memoir just about her year (?) in Mexico (which would have fit even better in my GN travelogue special interest), teaching art to kids in the inner city, Judaism throughout her life, her love story (including more detail about life loved between two artists)...
But finding the fertility story the least interesting aspect is definitely my own bias.
The exploration of Potts' journey to her current vocation. Her expressive drawing style. The ending. But I didn't love it, and I felt like a lot of her panels were crowded and/or hard to read (without clear direction about which order to read things). The parts NOT about her fertility struggles were by far the most interesting parts.
I feel like she could have written an entire memoir just about her year (?) in Mexico (which would have fit even better in my GN travelogue special interest), teaching art to kids in the inner city, Judaism throughout her life, her love story (including more detail about life loved between two artists)...
But finding the fertility story the least interesting aspect is definitely my own bias.
April 20, 2017
It's good, but felt like there were some missing parts.
Such as doesn't Jeff have any family? I know it's her memoir, but I'd imagine that his family or lack of family might have impacted her and the possible creation of the next generation. Jeff comes off as a drifter, albeit a perfect one.
I would have appreciated the other elephants in the room, such as her ethical views of the fertility process, we get a glimpse of that but not the heart of the matter. She struggles with the idea of , and I appreciate knowing her thoughts and feelings on that, it makes her more real, human. However, I, at times, struggle with the ethics of fertility treatments (mostly is it right for people to spend so much money, effort, resources, and so on to produce children that otherwise would probably not exist when there are so many in foster care or are in need of guardians?) and would have liked to know her thoughts on them, even if it was a dismissive acknowledgment, like, 'I'm not even going to get into the ethics/mores/values of going through this process...'
sigh, something.
I wanted her to go deeper.
Why did she want to be a mom, I understand there are so many reasons, but what are HER reasons? It's her memoir. Did Jeff really want to be a parent? There was a detail here or there that sure he wanted to be a dad, but to me it came off more that he was a 'supportive husband'. (Did I miss something?)
I did like the end. I am not mean spirited but I am glad that it .
I loved her attitude with medical staff; I'm the friend and family member that goes to the hospital with you and helps you crack jokes with the doctor.
Various parts did make me laugh, life is messy, complicated, and at times funny or otherwise necessarates laughter.
Such as doesn't Jeff have any family? I know it's her memoir, but I'd imagine that his family or lack of family might have impacted her and the possible creation of the next generation. Jeff comes off as a drifter, albeit a perfect one.
I would have appreciated the other elephants in the room, such as her ethical views of the fertility process, we get a glimpse of that but not the heart of the matter. She struggles with the idea of , and I appreciate knowing her thoughts and feelings on that, it makes her more real, human. However, I, at times, struggle with the ethics of fertility treatments (mostly is it right for people to spend so much money, effort, resources, and so on to produce children that otherwise would probably not exist when there are so many in foster care or are in need of guardians?) and would have liked to know her thoughts on them, even if it was a dismissive acknowledgment, like, 'I'm not even going to get into the ethics/mores/values of going through this process...'
sigh, something.
I wanted her to go deeper.
Why did she want to be a mom, I understand there are so many reasons, but what are HER reasons? It's her memoir. Did Jeff really want to be a parent? There was a detail here or there that sure he wanted to be a dad, but to me it came off more that he was a 'supportive husband'. (Did I miss something?)
I did like the end. I am not mean spirited but I am glad that it .
I loved her attitude with medical staff; I'm the friend and family member that goes to the hospital with you and helps you crack jokes with the doctor.
Various parts did make me laugh, life is messy, complicated, and at times funny or otherwise necessarates laughter.
October 25, 2015
I think I fell in love with this book around the sequence where she's talking about how she met her husband. It's equal parts Romance and comedy, much like real life. I was grinning from ear to ear while reading it. Phoebe and Jeff want to have a baby, but the traditional method isn't working for them. That's the book in a nutshell. Infertility can be frustrating and heartbreaking and exhausting ... But Phoebe Potts has managed to retain the ability to laugh at herself and life in general. This book is warm and engaging and loveable all in equal measure. Her art style is a touch on the cramped side, but witty and clean and full of observed detail. Even if you think you wouldn't be interested in the subject matter, this book is worth checking out. You may very well find, as I did, how surprisingly enjoyable it is.
March 29, 2017
In this graphic memoir, Phoebe Potts explores family history, parental expectations, Jewish Christmas, her desire to be liked, to help her community, her desire / fear to be an artist, therapy, depression, relationships, more therapy, Spanish speaking adventures in other countries, working with immigrant families, reconciling her 'muggle' Jewish identity with her Jewish mother's own experience growing up in the only Jewish family in the neighborhood, and yes, also fertility issues once she finally settles down with a fellow artist.
I really loved this. At first I didn't think it would speak to me because fertility / infertility are not issues that are ever on my mind, but this is so much more than that, and Potts tells her story in an interesting, relatable, and poignant way.
I really loved this. At first I didn't think it would speak to me because fertility / infertility are not issues that are ever on my mind, but this is so much more than that, and Potts tells her story in an interesting, relatable, and poignant way.
December 27, 2024
This one seemed too many things including funny and depressing and serious and confusing. There were a couple of issues experienced by the main character that hit too close to home. The time was very difficult for me to read which made a real chore for me to read. The chronology seemed sporadic - never signaled a turn.
If I ever felt I want my two hours back - this is it.
If I ever felt I want my two hours back - this is it.
July 23, 2014
This book was pretty spectacular. It is a graphic memoir regarding the author's struggle with infertility and treatments. Five stars. I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys graphic memoirs.
I have only two criticisms for this book: (1) the chapter were not named, and they didn't seem to have a central theme tying each chapter together--they seemed kind of randomly divided. That was a little weird. (2) The narrative wasn't as tight as I'd like. It felt like it meandered a little bit, and I couldn't always tell how each story related back to the central story and theme of infertility. Neither of these things actually decreased my enjoyment of the book.
So while the book wasn't quite as good as Fun Home or Can We Talk About Something More Pleasant, I still feel that it was a five star book. The emotional impact was, well, really significant. She really got to me. I'm still reeling from it. Ms. Potts did not incite pity, she incited empathy within me. When I finished the book, I wanted to do something for her. The book was always interesting, often painful, and occasionally humorous. Putting her cat's thoughts in the book was an extremely effective way to lighten the mood with the everyday.
I'm trying to think of something to end this review with, and really, all I can think of is this: to Ms. Potts, if you ever read this, I feel you. I'm so sorry you had to go through this.
I have only two criticisms for this book: (1) the chapter were not named, and they didn't seem to have a central theme tying each chapter together--they seemed kind of randomly divided. That was a little weird. (2) The narrative wasn't as tight as I'd like. It felt like it meandered a little bit, and I couldn't always tell how each story related back to the central story and theme of infertility. Neither of these things actually decreased my enjoyment of the book.
So while the book wasn't quite as good as Fun Home or Can We Talk About Something More Pleasant, I still feel that it was a five star book. The emotional impact was, well, really significant. She really got to me. I'm still reeling from it. Ms. Potts did not incite pity, she incited empathy within me. When I finished the book, I wanted to do something for her. The book was always interesting, often painful, and occasionally humorous. Putting her cat's thoughts in the book was an extremely effective way to lighten the mood with the everyday.
I'm trying to think of something to end this review with, and really, all I can think of is this: to Ms. Potts, if you ever read this, I feel you. I'm so sorry you had to go through this.
March 20, 2015
I really wish the title of this book touched/focused more on how Potts' experience with infertility was a necessary and painful part of her meaningful and moving rediscovery of her Jewish faith. Because that's really what this book was about -- and that's a totally cool thing for it to be about! But it's not so much a story of fertility issues as it is a story of self-discovery, from the doldrums of union organizing in the twenties to a strong married love to considering rabbinical studies...like, that's a great story! The baby-making or lack there of plays into it, but it's not worthy of being the titular subject, I feel like, somehow. ANYWAY, also the illustrations were nervy and nebbish and scribbly and not fantastic but I think really captured Potts' emotions and experiences. Not half-bad, but not fully focused.
March 25, 2015
A little more humorous and not as self-reflective in tone as Fun Home but still with a similar engaging quality to the story. Supposedly a memoir of infertility, the author spends just as much time talking about her history as a union organizer, a failed attempt to join the Chiapas rebellion, her history with depression, and her Jewish upbringing and what it means to her as an adult. This is such a relief, since the infertility memoir part was kind of a bummer for me, since she never really explores why she has such a strong compulsion to have a biological child of her own until the very last few pages.
June 1, 2019
A funny graphic novel memoir about a modern Jewish woman who tries to get pregnant. We explore Phoebe's attempts to get pregnant, her journey with Judaism, and the different jobs she's experienced. I loved the little witty details off to the side, like Reuben the cat's hilarious internal dialogue and the private lives of Phoebe's shoes. I could relate to Phoebe's struggles with art; feeling like an artist and yet not prioritizing creating it (I've become that way with writing!). As someone who definitely does not want a child, I didn't really relate to her main struggle, but I sure felt for her as she tried so many times with so many different ways with still no success. Serious subject matter told with humor and frankness!
May 8, 2011
A surprisingly sweet illustrated story of the trials of a couple dealing with fertility issues. Accessible and frequently funny, Potts uses her simple drawings to tell a story that will appeal to a broader audience than it might have otherwise. Be sure to follow the exploits of her cat in the background, who sometimes steals the scene with his authentic (to anyone who is a cat owner/lover) responses.
January 25, 2014
Oh my gosh. I just read this book in 2 days and LOVED IT!!!!!!! It's my first comic-style memoir I've ever read--are there others!??! It was so amazing. Phoebe, I love the way you express yourself! I love the humor, the honesty, the exploration of depression (I am a co-sufferer and she describes it perfectly…), the hilarious morphing of characters into animals, just wow. I loved it so much. I wish there were more!! <3
October 21, 2010
Farmer Feebs, I loved this book!!! So, no baby yet, but look at what you DO have: a fabulous husband and a fabulous book :) Not many gals can say that. This was the sweetest love story and the funniest illustrations. I laughed out loud a whole bunch. I'm so glad I actually laid down the cash for this one, because I'm in love with it and I want to read it a thousand times.
December 20, 2016
A warm complex memoir about the challenges of infertility. I wasn't particularly interested in the topic and never have been, so I learned things. Primarily though I cared about the anxiety ridden main character and her sweet, patient husband. And it was funny. There was a lot of subtle, dry humor which carried the story well.
January 29, 2012
well, of course i had to read this because the library search engine told me it was about infertility. that is like my favorite thing to read about now. but it was only maybe one-third about infertility. it was 1/3 infertility, 1/3 living with depression, & 1/3 being jewish. not being religious at all, let alone jewish, it was really difficult for me to get into the author's descriptions of joining a new synagogue, & it was especially tough for me to become invested in her sudden desire to become a rabbi. she details meeting with five rabbis & asking them all about their rabbinical journeys. she seems surprised when every single one of them informs her that she will have to learn hebrew if she wants to be a rabbi.
this dovetailed nicely (which is to say, obnoxiously) with her earlier accounts of being a liberal do-gooder who wants to help the less fortunate. she really wants to get a job working for justice for janitors, because she thinks they do such awesome things & have the most successful & energetic union campaigns. the feeling that the author particularly wants to work with justice for janitors because then she'd be helping not just poor people but also brown people is overwhelming. when she swings by the office & asks for a job, the director explains that she needs to be fluent in spanish to organize the largely spanish-speaking populace that the organization serves. um...duh? on the one hand, it's refreshing that the author didn't leave this out, so as to make herself look a little better (smarter). on the other hand, leaving it in seemed to indicate that she thought it was kind of a dumb rule. like the rule that a rabbi needs to know hebrew. there was this unspoken, "why can't i just do what i want without having to learn this hard thing?" feeling. i wasn't into that.
i also wasn't real into her tying her infertility journey to her history as a liberal do-gooder. she writes, "i worked for the poor! where's my baby?" YUCK. "hey guys, i did this noble thing, now where's my prize?" she also writes a few times about how angry it makes her that teenagers & crackheads can get pregnant but she can't. it's like, dude, i hear you, i'm in the same boat, being a reasonably financially stable 32-year-old with no drug addictions & a loving relationship with a partner who cannot seem to get pregnant, but i hope i get struck by lightning before i start saying that somehow i am more "worthy" of a baby than someone else who is younger than me or suffering from addiction issues or whatever. getting pregnant has nothing to do with being "worthy" of a child. yes, it's depressing to see 15-year-olds being all, "OMG i got pregnant the first time i ever had sex, how do i tell my mom?" but...it's not a competition. i'm not "losing". deep breaths.
this was kind of hammered home in the scene where potts suffers from a relatively early miscarriage. before she even swings by the ER to ask about the blood, she calls everyone she knows & is like, "so, i'm having a miscarriage. yeah, it's a total bummer. man, don't you feel bad for me?" i am ALL FOR people being honest & open about their infertility journeys & getting support from their loved ones. but there was this really unseemly "feel bad for me, guys, that's what i really want more than anything" vibe to...so much of the book, actually. it was off-putting.
this includes potts's descriptions of being diagnosed with & learning to live with depression. i was pumped at first, because most of these stories transpired in east somerville. holla! that was totally my stomping grounds before i wound up in godforsaken kansas. but i mean, she writes about moving into a collective house based solely around the fact that everyone living there is in therapy. what the fuck? who does that? she gets very defensive about being on SSRIs. i mean, i get that she was diagnosed with depression & puts on drugs in the early/mid-90s, when maybe this shit was a little more taboo & unusual. but this book was published in 2010. she had fifteen years to climb down off the metaphorical cross, you know? A LOT of people are in therapy (including me). A LOT of people are on psych meds (including me, until a few years ago). it's not that big of a deal.
i really felt for potts at the end of the book when her insurance coverage for IVF ran out & she still had not managed to get pregnant. i hope that potts & her husband find a way to become parents, i really do, because i'm in the infertility boat & i know that it's so unbelievably hard. even hearing about strangers that i don't know getting pregnant...it's tough. & i think that anyone who has gone through that journey & finally emerged a parent is going to cherish the parenting experience so much & be the most incredible parent...i just wish i had liked this book more.
this dovetailed nicely (which is to say, obnoxiously) with her earlier accounts of being a liberal do-gooder who wants to help the less fortunate. she really wants to get a job working for justice for janitors, because she thinks they do such awesome things & have the most successful & energetic union campaigns. the feeling that the author particularly wants to work with justice for janitors because then she'd be helping not just poor people but also brown people is overwhelming. when she swings by the office & asks for a job, the director explains that she needs to be fluent in spanish to organize the largely spanish-speaking populace that the organization serves. um...duh? on the one hand, it's refreshing that the author didn't leave this out, so as to make herself look a little better (smarter). on the other hand, leaving it in seemed to indicate that she thought it was kind of a dumb rule. like the rule that a rabbi needs to know hebrew. there was this unspoken, "why can't i just do what i want without having to learn this hard thing?" feeling. i wasn't into that.
i also wasn't real into her tying her infertility journey to her history as a liberal do-gooder. she writes, "i worked for the poor! where's my baby?" YUCK. "hey guys, i did this noble thing, now where's my prize?" she also writes a few times about how angry it makes her that teenagers & crackheads can get pregnant but she can't. it's like, dude, i hear you, i'm in the same boat, being a reasonably financially stable 32-year-old with no drug addictions & a loving relationship with a partner who cannot seem to get pregnant, but i hope i get struck by lightning before i start saying that somehow i am more "worthy" of a baby than someone else who is younger than me or suffering from addiction issues or whatever. getting pregnant has nothing to do with being "worthy" of a child. yes, it's depressing to see 15-year-olds being all, "OMG i got pregnant the first time i ever had sex, how do i tell my mom?" but...it's not a competition. i'm not "losing". deep breaths.
this was kind of hammered home in the scene where potts suffers from a relatively early miscarriage. before she even swings by the ER to ask about the blood, she calls everyone she knows & is like, "so, i'm having a miscarriage. yeah, it's a total bummer. man, don't you feel bad for me?" i am ALL FOR people being honest & open about their infertility journeys & getting support from their loved ones. but there was this really unseemly "feel bad for me, guys, that's what i really want more than anything" vibe to...so much of the book, actually. it was off-putting.
this includes potts's descriptions of being diagnosed with & learning to live with depression. i was pumped at first, because most of these stories transpired in east somerville. holla! that was totally my stomping grounds before i wound up in godforsaken kansas. but i mean, she writes about moving into a collective house based solely around the fact that everyone living there is in therapy. what the fuck? who does that? she gets very defensive about being on SSRIs. i mean, i get that she was diagnosed with depression & puts on drugs in the early/mid-90s, when maybe this shit was a little more taboo & unusual. but this book was published in 2010. she had fifteen years to climb down off the metaphorical cross, you know? A LOT of people are in therapy (including me). A LOT of people are on psych meds (including me, until a few years ago). it's not that big of a deal.
i really felt for potts at the end of the book when her insurance coverage for IVF ran out & she still had not managed to get pregnant. i hope that potts & her husband find a way to become parents, i really do, because i'm in the infertility boat & i know that it's so unbelievably hard. even hearing about strangers that i don't know getting pregnant...it's tough. & i think that anyone who has gone through that journey & finally emerged a parent is going to cherish the parenting experience so much & be the most incredible parent...i just wish i had liked this book more.
August 25, 2014
This is a trimmed down version of my review, to view the full review visit The Book Ramble.
Potts' book recounts the hope and sorrow of trying, unsuccessfully, to conceive a child. The book looks further into Phoebe's life as well dealing with her childhood, university life, and career paths over her life. This is an autobiographical graphic novel.
Potts ties her story to many biblical stories from the Torah. She looks at the ways in which motherhood is dealt with in her faith and the expectations she has created for herself over the years to become a mother. I thought this was particularly interesting because the question of motherhood is one presented to women very early on, especially the expectation to produce offspring, build a family, raise children, etc.
Phoebe is unable to have children through just sex, all attempts fail. This brings you to the main content of the book, she tries several other methods including IVF to conceive a child. This journey is long and rough, for both Phoebe and the reader. Hearing about all the failures of this road was really exhausting. Phoebe is on medication for depression and I think the road to motherhood really wipes her out, and removes a lot of the hope that is necessary when dealing with this kind of content. Sometimes that made the book really hard to read. It was simply depressing at a lot of points in the book and it really wears on you as a reader.
Coming out of this book in the end, there is a lot of hope but also so much sorrow that the hope is almost buried to deep to feel. I felt sort of miserable by the end of the book and not so hopeful for the future. I think that was one of the failures of the book, the hope was too dim for the reader to feel.
Regarding the style of this book, I found it a little hectic and hard to read sometimes. I didn't find it particularly aesthetically pleasing, which is fine because a lot of these autobiographical comics are sort of rougher, not too detailed in the drawing. However, I found the layout of panels really hard to deal with sometimes. There would be too much going on, on not a clear enough pathway through all the text, which either broke up dialogue weirdly or made the narration unclear. I think this also served to make the timeline a little unclear sometimes as well, especially because this book deals with a lot of flashback sequences and it just made the book a little messy and unclear.
Overall, I enjoyed the book. I would recommend it if you're interesting in graphic novel biographies. It was an enjoyable, if at times frustrating read.
Potts' book recounts the hope and sorrow of trying, unsuccessfully, to conceive a child. The book looks further into Phoebe's life as well dealing with her childhood, university life, and career paths over her life. This is an autobiographical graphic novel.
Potts ties her story to many biblical stories from the Torah. She looks at the ways in which motherhood is dealt with in her faith and the expectations she has created for herself over the years to become a mother. I thought this was particularly interesting because the question of motherhood is one presented to women very early on, especially the expectation to produce offspring, build a family, raise children, etc.
Phoebe is unable to have children through just sex, all attempts fail. This brings you to the main content of the book, she tries several other methods including IVF to conceive a child. This journey is long and rough, for both Phoebe and the reader. Hearing about all the failures of this road was really exhausting. Phoebe is on medication for depression and I think the road to motherhood really wipes her out, and removes a lot of the hope that is necessary when dealing with this kind of content. Sometimes that made the book really hard to read. It was simply depressing at a lot of points in the book and it really wears on you as a reader.
Coming out of this book in the end, there is a lot of hope but also so much sorrow that the hope is almost buried to deep to feel. I felt sort of miserable by the end of the book and not so hopeful for the future. I think that was one of the failures of the book, the hope was too dim for the reader to feel.
Regarding the style of this book, I found it a little hectic and hard to read sometimes. I didn't find it particularly aesthetically pleasing, which is fine because a lot of these autobiographical comics are sort of rougher, not too detailed in the drawing. However, I found the layout of panels really hard to deal with sometimes. There would be too much going on, on not a clear enough pathway through all the text, which either broke up dialogue weirdly or made the narration unclear. I think this also served to make the timeline a little unclear sometimes as well, especially because this book deals with a lot of flashback sequences and it just made the book a little messy and unclear.
Overall, I enjoyed the book. I would recommend it if you're interesting in graphic novel biographies. It was an enjoyable, if at times frustrating read.
May 26, 2016
Another young woman's memoir in graphic form, and I'd be curious to hear any thoughts on why this genre seems so disproportionately represented in graphic novels?
Phoebe Potts has written an emotionally-wrought story about her journey through infertility. I suspect people who seek out this book as a resource on infertility will be frustrated by her digressions into other aspects of her life (explorations in Judaism, travels through Mexico), where as people seeking out a memoir may be frustrated by the over-emphasis on infertility. Both perspectives are fair, as this is not a particularly focused book. The heart is her infertility, however. Potts experiences miscarriages and unexplained infertility, and writes about the physical, emotional, financial, spiritual, and familial struggles that ensue. While her particular diagnosis is specific to her body, she's able to get at larger issues that may resonate for people with other conditions. She excels when blending the humor, helplessness, and absurdity of her journey. The two-page panel entitled “anatomy of an infertility waiting room” was hilarious. I also liked the way she gave voice to a literal elephant in the room, and the moment when her financial counselor is transformed into an angry crow. Because so much of the struggle with infertility is private and interior, using the graphic form was an innovative but also elucidating choice. It's not all laughs, and this book brought tears to my eyes, but that she could see this as something more than tragedy was wonderful. I loved the ending. Good Eggs is immediately engaging and a quick read. It's a great choice for friends and family of those experiencing infertility who seek to understand its impact.
An important note: one of the most popular reviews here on GR criticizes the author for hostility towards the LGBT community, and the idea that there may be a heterosexual experience of infertility that is different from the homosexual experience. I could not disagree with this reviewer more. The irony is that the reviewer accuses Potts of being blind to alternate life experiences. Firstly, this is a memoir, not a survey. More importantly, this text depicts these alternate experiences with lesbian characters and their own journey. I found it to be an incredibly bridging tool for all readers. I'm sorry she did not.
Phoebe Potts has written an emotionally-wrought story about her journey through infertility. I suspect people who seek out this book as a resource on infertility will be frustrated by her digressions into other aspects of her life (explorations in Judaism, travels through Mexico), where as people seeking out a memoir may be frustrated by the over-emphasis on infertility. Both perspectives are fair, as this is not a particularly focused book. The heart is her infertility, however. Potts experiences miscarriages and unexplained infertility, and writes about the physical, emotional, financial, spiritual, and familial struggles that ensue. While her particular diagnosis is specific to her body, she's able to get at larger issues that may resonate for people with other conditions. She excels when blending the humor, helplessness, and absurdity of her journey. The two-page panel entitled “anatomy of an infertility waiting room” was hilarious. I also liked the way she gave voice to a literal elephant in the room, and the moment when her financial counselor is transformed into an angry crow. Because so much of the struggle with infertility is private and interior, using the graphic form was an innovative but also elucidating choice. It's not all laughs, and this book brought tears to my eyes, but that she could see this as something more than tragedy was wonderful. I loved the ending. Good Eggs is immediately engaging and a quick read. It's a great choice for friends and family of those experiencing infertility who seek to understand its impact.
An important note: one of the most popular reviews here on GR criticizes the author for hostility towards the LGBT community, and the idea that there may be a heterosexual experience of infertility that is different from the homosexual experience. I could not disagree with this reviewer more. The irony is that the reviewer accuses Potts of being blind to alternate life experiences. Firstly, this is a memoir, not a survey. More importantly, this text depicts these alternate experiences with lesbian characters and their own journey. I found it to be an incredibly bridging tool for all readers. I'm sorry she did not.
November 9, 2015
This book is a fairly well put together memoir about an important topic, namely infertility. Maybe I've just OD'd on graphic memoirs but this one didn't really strike me as anything special. While it felt more professional then Pregnant Butch, that might just be due to the bigger publisher. Then again, if HarperCollins had anything to do with overextending this book by about 100+ pages, I'm not sure if Potts really came out ahead.
While the selling point of the novel is the issue of fertility, the story itself ends up starting much earlier - around the time Potts starts suffering from depression. And while her depression certainly effects her fertility journey, Potts spends about equal time talking about her journey through depression as she does talking about her journey through infertility. We follow Potts to Texas, rural Mexico and back up to New England. We watch her go through several jobs, her entire relationship with her now husband and spend a lot of time describing her mother's relationship with Judaism. Some of this relates back to her journey through infertility, a lot of it does not!
But of course the book was described accurately it would sound much more bland and nondescript.
That said, I did enjoy this book. I liked how she would give random dialog to her slippers. I loved watching how patient and kind her husband was through all of Potts' stress and frustration. I even liked how she intertwined her journey through infertility with her journey back into Judaism. Potts writing and art style are equally charming and she's brutally honest about how she feels. No holds bard.
But I, of course, have one last criticism. Why are the translated words of the Spanish speaking people in broken English? While it is true that Spanish and English are very different grammatically, I feel like what is probably a "literal translation" ends up sounding rather patronizing. Combined with the fact that Potts is a kind of "white savior" figure during the opening portion of the memoir it came across as stupid lazy ingrained old-fashioned ideas that Potts (and maybe her editors) has perhaps not taken the time to rethink
I also would have liked some suggestions on how to relate to people going through these sorts of journeys.
While the selling point of the novel is the issue of fertility, the story itself ends up starting much earlier - around the time Potts starts suffering from depression. And while her depression certainly effects her fertility journey, Potts spends about equal time talking about her journey through depression as she does talking about her journey through infertility. We follow Potts to Texas, rural Mexico and back up to New England. We watch her go through several jobs, her entire relationship with her now husband and spend a lot of time describing her mother's relationship with Judaism. Some of this relates back to her journey through infertility, a lot of it does not!
But of course the book was described accurately it would sound much more bland and nondescript.
That said, I did enjoy this book. I liked how she would give random dialog to her slippers. I loved watching how patient and kind her husband was through all of Potts' stress and frustration. I even liked how she intertwined her journey through infertility with her journey back into Judaism. Potts writing and art style are equally charming and she's brutally honest about how she feels. No holds bard.
But I, of course, have one last criticism. Why are the translated words of the Spanish speaking people in broken English? While it is true that Spanish and English are very different grammatically, I feel like what is probably a "literal translation" ends up sounding rather patronizing. Combined with the fact that Potts is a kind of "white savior" figure during the opening portion of the memoir it came across as stupid lazy ingrained old-fashioned ideas that Potts (and maybe her editors) has perhaps not taken the time to rethink
I also would have liked some suggestions on how to relate to people going through these sorts of journeys.
October 28, 2015
I'd never read a graphics novel or memoir, and I never wanted to have children, so I had no idea what to expect from Good Eggs. I loved it.
Phoebe Potts recounts her and husband Jeff's ever more arduous journey toward an ever more unlikely goal: getting pregnant. On the way she takes the reader on guided detours into her own quixotic attempts to find meaning in life: union organizing in Texas, studying Spanish in Mexico (and thinking of running off with the Zapatistas), exploring her Jewish heritage (and thinking of becoming a rabbi), and therapy, therapy, and more therapy.
The graphics/comic genre lends itself so wonderfully to the story that I desperately wish I could draw. Protagonist Phoebe acts out her own story in pictures. She's often so self-centered, pig-headed, and melodramatic that you just want to stick a pacifier in her mouth to make her shuddup. But at the same time the more mature writer-artist Phoebe is commenting on the adventures of her earnest younger self with so much insight and understanding that you empathize with protagonist Phoebe even at her most infuriating.
Insight, understanding, and humor. Infertility isn't a laughing matter, but I laughed all the way through Good Eggs. Potts's images comment on protagonist Phoebe's angst in a way that words alone can't, and the commentary is by turns wry, ironic, and drop-dead hysterical. I especially like the running commentary by Reuben the cat.
Short version: I recommend this book even to readers who think books with pictures are only for little kids, and readers who aren't particularly interested in the world of infertility treatments. A story well told is a story that pulls you along on the journey. Good Eggs does exactly that.
Phoebe Potts recounts her and husband Jeff's ever more arduous journey toward an ever more unlikely goal: getting pregnant. On the way she takes the reader on guided detours into her own quixotic attempts to find meaning in life: union organizing in Texas, studying Spanish in Mexico (and thinking of running off with the Zapatistas), exploring her Jewish heritage (and thinking of becoming a rabbi), and therapy, therapy, and more therapy.
The graphics/comic genre lends itself so wonderfully to the story that I desperately wish I could draw. Protagonist Phoebe acts out her own story in pictures. She's often so self-centered, pig-headed, and melodramatic that you just want to stick a pacifier in her mouth to make her shuddup. But at the same time the more mature writer-artist Phoebe is commenting on the adventures of her earnest younger self with so much insight and understanding that you empathize with protagonist Phoebe even at her most infuriating.
Insight, understanding, and humor. Infertility isn't a laughing matter, but I laughed all the way through Good Eggs. Potts's images comment on protagonist Phoebe's angst in a way that words alone can't, and the commentary is by turns wry, ironic, and drop-dead hysterical. I especially like the running commentary by Reuben the cat.
Short version: I recommend this book even to readers who think books with pictures are only for little kids, and readers who aren't particularly interested in the world of infertility treatments. A story well told is a story that pulls you along on the journey. Good Eggs does exactly that.
October 24, 2010
I'm starting to think all autobiographies should be in graphic novel form. The best I've ever read have all been in this format. I picked up Good Eggs not really expecting a whole lot. It was a story about a subject I really couldn't relate to that much, but something about the cover really appealed to me. Turns out, the book was just what I needed at the time, because I loved it! It is charming, heartbreaking, full of hope and humor. I love Phoebe and all her neuroses and I love how caring and sweet her husband is and I loved her journey back into Judaism and trying to find the right career...all while trying for the baby she so desperately wants. I love that it was her story, not just a fictional story with a happy ending. I ached with her in her struggles and laughed at her jokes and at the end I just hoped that both Phoebe and Jeff live a happy life.
And on a final note, I have to say my very favorite panel in the entire book is a simple one: Phoebe has an idea and a light bulb appears over her head. She utters, "Oh, sorry!" and the light bulb turns into one of those new, energy efficient ones. Best. Panel. Ever.
And on a final note, I have to say my very favorite panel in the entire book is a simple one: Phoebe has an idea and a light bulb appears over her head. She utters, "Oh, sorry!" and the light bulb turns into one of those new, energy efficient ones. Best. Panel. Ever.
August 17, 2011
I love a graphic memoir, and I loved this one. I adore how tight and condensed the words of the story become, while the story itself, through the drawings, sprawls out as wide as any story can. I had a hard time putting this down to sleep. If you're not a graphic novel reader, but you like memoir, you might be surprised how easily and thoroughly you get caught up.
As for story, this is a fresh, wry look at fertility treatments and at what it feels like to be, again and again, on the unsuccessful end of them. I think the drawings of Phoebe trying to give herself shots in the stomach will stay with me forever, both for their humor and for their grim depiction of a woman wadding up her own stomach fat with one hand, needle in the other. And as a wanna-be memoir writer myself, I'm touched by how Phoebe was able to go back and capture her own renewed optimism every time, and I loved the moment when she decided that what she REALLY needed was to become a rabbi. This is a woman who knows herself far too well--I'm glad she made good use of it.
As for story, this is a fresh, wry look at fertility treatments and at what it feels like to be, again and again, on the unsuccessful end of them. I think the drawings of Phoebe trying to give herself shots in the stomach will stay with me forever, both for their humor and for their grim depiction of a woman wadding up her own stomach fat with one hand, needle in the other. And as a wanna-be memoir writer myself, I'm touched by how Phoebe was able to go back and capture her own renewed optimism every time, and I loved the moment when she decided that what she REALLY needed was to become a rabbi. This is a woman who knows herself far too well--I'm glad she made good use of it.
Read
January 24, 2012You could say that Good Eggs, a new graphic memoir by Phoebe Potts, is about infertility. You could say it's about overcoming depression, or about becoming an artist. I pitched the book to my adult bat mitzvah study group as a Jewish coming of age tale. And there's certainly a case to be made that Good Eggs is about family, specifically, the wild frontier between mother and daughter. But you could also call it a love story. Plenty of books tackle these topics, but I can't think of one that combines them as hilariously and brilliantly as Good Eggs. And I guarantee none of those books contains a portrait of the author as a bowl of Honey-Nut Cheerios. It's tough to choose what I loved best about Good Eggs. I started laughing on the first page, and by the end, after more laughter -- and a few tears -- I was wishing I lived next door to Potts so that I could invite her to dinner and we could be best friends. It's that kind of book.
Read Literary Mama's full review here: http://www.literarymama.com/reviews/a...
Read Literary Mama's full review here: http://www.literarymama.com/reviews/a...
July 29, 2019
I enjoyed this book very much. I think it might be highly relatable for lots of people. That said, I'm not entirely certain I'd recommend it to someone who didn't fall in at least one of three categories: 1. Has experienced infertility. 2. Is very familiar with the Boston area (loved the references!). 3. Is an artsy type who tries or succeeds in making a career of it (loved hearing about this journey and her relationship to depression!)
Fortunately (and unfortunately), I fall into all three of these categories and found the book tremendously relatable. Phoebe is very candid about her thoughts and feelings through this process and it is so good to have this book as a companion through this process.
The "I hate lesbians" panels referenced in another review are an example of the horrible thoughts and feelings that can start to come up for people in the middle of infertility. And sometimes you just need to hear that this happens for other people too.
Fortunately (and unfortunately), I fall into all three of these categories and found the book tremendously relatable. Phoebe is very candid about her thoughts and feelings through this process and it is so good to have this book as a companion through this process.
The "I hate lesbians" panels referenced in another review are an example of the horrible thoughts and feelings that can start to come up for people in the middle of infertility. And sometimes you just need to hear that this happens for other people too.
October 14, 2010
Very funny and moving. I don't think you have to have struggled with infertility to find this a terrific read. The narrative zigzags back and forth from Phoebe's adventures in the fertility biz to her romance with her sweet and endlessly patient husband to her experiences teaching art in youth centers and traveling in Latin America and learning Spanish to her youth in Park Slope and her ambivalent relationship to Judaism. It's as much about her struggle with depression as it is about trying to have a baby. I can see how some people would find all this navel gazing (literally!) narcissistic, but I love hearing people tell their own stories honestly and without self-aggrandizement. A very quirky book. Her cartooning style is engaging too -- I tend to like any cartoonist who can draw a good (funny, self-absorbed) cat.
September 4, 2016
I picked up this book at the library last night because I recognized the title from a Smith alumnae publication and wanted a quick read. The primary subject, infertility, is not something of much interest to me given how little interest I have in babies and pregnancy, so I was surprised by how engrossing and charming it was. I loved the tiny unexpected details and asides in the drawings (à la Alison Bechdel). Some of the blurbs on the back gave the impression that the main audience is infertile couples, but the story is much bigger than that. It resonated with me for a number of reasons: complicated relationships with parents, post-college existential dilemmas, what depression feels like, ambivalence about racial and class privilege, and more. All those serious subjects make it sound like a downer, but it wasn't at all. It was funny and sad and very entertaining.
March 10, 2013
This is an imaginative, thought-provoking, oftentimes hilarious graphic novel. It's mainly about one woman's emotional journey through life, especially as it pertains to her own psychological experiences and memories of relationships in general, and the desire for children, in particular.
The author is a very talented artist and her pictures, along with the commentary, are frequently keenly hysterical and/or poignant. She also explains why she identifies more and more with the Jewish community, so her memoir has many insights into the Jewish culture in New England where she lives.
Her relationship with her husband is lovingly portrayed and the struggles they go through in their quest to have a child are transparent and heartfelt. One thing to keep in mind is that she doesn't sugarcoat her emotional reactions, so the narrative can get a bit obnoxious at times.
The author is a very talented artist and her pictures, along with the commentary, are frequently keenly hysterical and/or poignant. She also explains why she identifies more and more with the Jewish community, so her memoir has many insights into the Jewish culture in New England where she lives.
Her relationship with her husband is lovingly portrayed and the struggles they go through in their quest to have a child are transparent and heartfelt. One thing to keep in mind is that she doesn't sugarcoat her emotional reactions, so the narrative can get a bit obnoxious at times.
March 29, 2013
This autobiographical graphic novel told the story of a woman's struggle with infertility, depression, and figuring out her identity. I loved being able to "see" the story through her art. It had just the right amount of wit, sarcasm, and emotion. Reading what she and her husband went through on their quest to conceive was heartbreaking, but made me think about what I say / have said to friends in that situation, in an attempt to be supportive. I loved Phoebe's honesty and bravery to put it all out there.
One qualm: I felt the part about Phoebe wanting to be a Rabbi seemed a little disconnected from the rest of the book, though, kind of like she wanted this position because it was about prestige and something that was just slightly out of her reach (as she lacked the proper Jewish background and knowledge of Hebrew).
One qualm: I felt the part about Phoebe wanting to be a Rabbi seemed a little disconnected from the rest of the book, though, kind of like she wanted this position because it was about prestige and something that was just slightly out of her reach (as she lacked the proper Jewish background and knowledge of Hebrew).
December 15, 2010
Comics memoir about going through various fertility treatments. In a way it is kind of an ambitious mess, but there is a lot of great stuff in this book. Potts isn't afraid to experiment and will often draw people or situations more symbolically than realistically. A certain person might be bigger because of an over-sized personality or angular because they are terse. Sometimes it is hard to figure out what the exaggerated trait is supposed to convey. Early on inanimate objects talk, often not really making sense, but Potts abandons talking objects as the book continues. Her descriptions of the fertility treatments are fascinating and the book isn't overly sentimental. I am eager to read whatever Potts does next.
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