I feel so privileged to have been invited to participate in a book event with author Kimberly Harrington at Greenlight Bookstore in Prospect Lefferts, Brooklyn. Her book is fantastic. Here’s my review on Goodreads.com:
I love this book. I mean, I love, love, love it. I am a 45-year-old mother to two who writes books for a living while also writing other things that actually pay money and being a full-time mom. WHICH IS TO SAY I DO NOT READ BOOKS ANYMORE. At least not all the way through. Usually not more than a quarter of the way through. I’m lucky if I read one essay in a New Yorker. I can barely make it through NY mag’s Approval Matrix anymore. I want to start a catalog club, because those I finish. My god, this Spring’s Sundance Catalog in Guadalajara was a masterpiece. Discuss. BUT I DIGRESS. I read this book all the way through in a week. Hold your applause. Seriously, this book is deliciously, enjoyable, and lyrically human. It’s raw and real and nostalgic and unapologetic and evocative in all the best, most believable ways. I write about motherhood and 90% of what I read I don’t relate to. It’s sappy pap. Or it’s longwindedly sarcastic and desperately needs an editor. It’s rare to find someone who can write about something as common as motherhood and make it as beautiful as poetry. And I related to almost every moment of this book. Not because my life resemble’s the authors, but because she has a beautiful way of filtering the universal through her particular lens of funny, quirky, brave, but kind of nerdy, middle-class, white Vermont mom life. This book is not trying to stand in for all the experiences of motherhood, it clearly represents an enviable (in the most human, natural, crunchy, i-wish-i could-go-camping-with-her kind of way) particular set of experiences. But the author brings forth from them the most universal understanding of how we are all fumbling through this thing called motherhood. Damn, without one moment of pollayannish crap she makes all the suck ass moments of motherhood so beautiful, noble even. I don’t know how to say it, she just makes the hard work of mothering seem possible, and heroic and special. It’s this really amazing, totally common (but completely rare) privilege of a burden. And reading this book just makes me feel lucky to experience it.