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A painfully realistic expression of Motherhood. 10/10
A meditation on being a woman, a wife to a husband, and on becoming a mother. Ravn doesn‘t hold back on the darkness and bleakness about the experience of motherhood and I loved it. Anna struggles to maintain herself, her identity, her career, her sanity. Written as a collection of journal entries, poems, excerpts from pamphlets and articles - I love the title of the book as it refers to Anna‘s work as a mother and a writer.
What a beautiful, unsettling cacophony of a novel. Told in prose, poetry, letters, and journal entries, chronology all out of whack, it mirrors the sleepless, disorienting, disjointed experience of early motherhood, specifically ruminating on art and motherhood; work and motherhood; and the work of motherhood. Also featured: loss of self, shifts in relationships, pain, both physical and emotional, isolation, and brutal honesty. A masterpiece, tbh.