Content note: Do NOT read this book or this review if you have any sort of trauma related to childbirth, motherhood, or (in)fertility.
So Thrilled For You is about a group of four women who were housemates at university in England, whose bond has become somewhat strained, but who are coming together for a happy occasion–Nicki’s baby shower. Charlotte (paging SATC) is the perfectionist organising the shower to the fullest of its glossy filtered #humbleandblessed social media potential; Lauren is dealing with postpartum depression and a lack of official and familial support system (the NHS is broken, fuck the Tories, and her husband is wildly oblivious and unsupportive, fuck him too); Steffi is single and childfree and intends to stay that way–and is concerned that this means her mommy-track friends are leaving her behind and unable to celebrate her professional achievements in the way she deserves:
“I’m not sure what to say. I always feel like any advice I give my parent friends is unlikely to be listened to since I don’t have the experiential element to back it. I’ve seen enough of my friends go from happy to mess to know they’re not alone (and to remind myself being childfree is a valid choice) but you can’t really say, ‘if it helps, everyone I know who’s had a baby seems to have ruined their lives?‘ That’s my judgement anyway. They always game face and tell me determinedly now ‘worth it’ it is. (105)
The story starts with a report of a fire that started during a firework gender reveal moment at the baby shower and burned down half the Home Counties; the narrative switches between the women’s perspectives as they tell the police their stories, and is interspersed with flashbacks and social media posts and whatnot.
The novel is basically about how destructive the pressures of motherhood can be, how implosive on a relationship and sense of self trying to have a baby without success can be, and how isolating it can be if your friends don’t understand or respect your choices. But the characters never really transcend their starting points into actual people to care about; the novel makes you angry about the state of the NHS (fuck the Tories forever, and probably fuck Labour too, tbh), and the weird social media and offline presence of people far too invested in the decisions people make about how to give birth and raise their children, and hell, even climate change that caused the drought that enabled the fire to spread.
But it reads like a series of blog posts or Substack letters or whatever on these topics rather than a novel. Maybe it’s because the women, despite their different starting points, are basically the same woman–there are minimal distinguishing features in their voices, the texture of their thoughts, the way they use language. Take the OG Sex and the City (1998-2204), for instance–the way Charlotte, Samantha, Carrie, and Miranda talk, inhabit their bodies, relate to people, shape their spaces and their lives is totally different in a way that goes beyond their assigned roles as WASPy good girl, femme fatale, self-centred creative type, and assertive ambitious career woman and the things that happen to them. Indeed, the same goes for the OG Little Women, so it’s not just a question of TV vs. literature.
There’s little leavening humour, little elaboration of the bond between the women–the shorthand of their group name “Little Women” (too twee or not too twee, that is the question) does a lot of heavy lifting, and the various sexual transgressions they committed against or hid from each other don’t really seem that big a deal, and the ending, which seems to lose the courage of the convictions of the earlier statements, including the potentially refreshing point, in a world of besties and bffs and #girlsquads, that sometimes people just grow the fuck apart and that’s fine. Also, the massive glass house (a rural barn conversion) that things happen in is a little obvious as a metaphor, no?
Having said that, it is a fairly fast read, the challenging of myths and images around perfect motherhood in a fairly graphic and messy way is a good choice in itself, and there are some solid insights into the world of social media performances and commentary.