Review by Booklist Review
Timely and nuanced questions of motherly and sibling love float through this deceptively simple novel by Mexican author Nettel. After a stint in Paris, Laura returns to Mexico City to complete her thesis and explain why she unequivocally decided not to ever have children. Throughout the time she is gestating her thesis, Laura weaves together the stories of women centered on caring for children: her good friend Alina, who decides, along with her husband, Aurelio, to have a child; Doris, who has a son, Nicolás; and Laura's neighbor, a domestic-violence survivor. A family of pigeons that has set up a nest on Laura's patio complete this sneakily profound book. Nettel's prose is clear; Harvey's translation is elegant, and the stories Laura tells are straightforward. Each woman weathers myriad complex emotions as Alina's daughter is not expected to live past her birth, and Nicolás, a very difficult child, struggles with PTSD. Laura is a solid friend and caring neighbor who, although she does not want children of her own, does care for her fellow humans. Shortlisted for the International Booker Prize.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Two Mexican friends wrestle with their feelings about motherhood in the ruminative latest from Nettel (After the Winter). Laura and Alina, both in their 30s and living in Paris, decided years earlier not to have children. Laura is devoted to earning a PhD in literature and Alina runs an art gallery. After Laura has her tubes tied, Alina returns to Mexico City and decides to try to have a child with her partner, Aurelio. Laura is aghast at her friend's decision to have a child and initially keeps a distance. Later, after returning to Mexico City herself and learning of Alina's infertility, Laura supports her. Alina eventually becomes pregnant, but is devastated to learn that her baby suffers from a neurological condition; her doctor predicts she will be stillborn and recommends that the couple attend grief counseling. A side plot involving Laura's single-parent neighbor, who has a volatile relationship with her six-year-old son, adds to the narrative's varied perspectives on motherhood. Using spare, potent prose, Nettel mines the complexities of feminism, caregiving, and what it means to love unconditionally ("The more we love a person the more fragile and insecure we feel because of them," Laura reflects on her friendship with Alina). This will resonate with readers. Agent: Andrea Montejo, Indent Literary. (Aug.)
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Kirkus Book Review
Widely translated Mexican author Nettel considers the thorniness of motherhood in this novel shortlisted for the International Booker Prize. Is motherhood worth it? For Laura, the answer's always been a resounding no: "For years I tried to convince my girlfriends that procreating was a hopeless mistake." Children "would always represent a limit on their freedom." Since their 20s, her friend Alina has agreed. Independent, busy traveling, the two look askance at the societal expectations women face. Later, settled in Mexico City, Laura has her tubes tied. Then, shockingly, Alina announces she's trying to get pregnant. What happens next is every prospective parent's worst nightmare: Alina learns there's a grave problem with her baby, who won't live past birth. Running parallel to Alina's story is that of Doris, Laura's widowed neighbor, whose young son throws daily violent tantrums. As Laura tries to support Alina through an impossibly difficult situation, she's drawn to her struggling neighbor's troubled son as well as to a local feminist collective, finding herself reconsidering ideas of motherhood, family, even "frequently illogical, incomprehensible" love itself. A pair of pigeons nest on her balcony and raise an ungainly chick that looks nothing like them; Laura becomes convinced another bird laid the egg, practicing brood parasitism. Nettel describes the realities of her characters' lives with a compassionate but unsparing eye. Every mother depicted is fully human, not selfless and saintly but a complex individual with mixed, even contradictory feelings. There's joy here and camaraderie, but there are no easy solutions. "I don't understand…" Alina tells Laura at one point. "And in her voice, [Laura] thought [she] could hear, not indignation, or even bewilderment, but simply all the despair in the world." A deeply felt, refreshingly honest story of two friends finding their ways down different paths. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
