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120 reviews for:
Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace
Ayelet Waldman
3.5 AVERAGE
120 reviews for:
Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace
Ayelet Waldman
3.5 AVERAGE
Waldman caused a big stink a few years ago by claiming that she loved her husband more than her kids. Judging by the reaction of other mothers you would have thought Waldamn advocated killing your children the minute they became inconvenient. What the naysayers missed, and what is the theme of this book, is that it is time to cut yourself some slack and realize that there is no such thing as the perfect mother. I actually don't see a problem in loving your husband more than your kids- too many people do just the opposite and wonder why their marriages fail and their kids aren't happy. Yes, Waldman can get a bit preachy at times and there is a lot of the Berkley and educated elite thought running through this book(not all people in the South or who are Conservative are stupid) but the message remains the same: Do they very best you can for your family and don't let the judgement of others and this false ideal of perfection weigh you down. I recommend this book to all new parents.
This is a phenomenal book about motherhood and I am so glad to have read it while pregnant.
Oh, how I wanted to like this book. And I did like parts of it. I didn't really mind that the author is unapologetically uber-liberal, nor did I mind when I found that her opinions on certain child-rearing ideas and topics fundamentally differed from mine. I enjoyed the stories about her family very much, and I usually enjoy hearing other people's opinions and trying to understand, at the very least, where they are coming from. I expect the same courtesies be extended to me (though, in the Bay Area, this rarely, if ever, has happened). And that's where Ms. Waldman lost me in the last few chapters of the book: she has no qualms (among the many she lists and elaborates on in this book) about blatantly insulting the conservative population of America, or those she feels are "less intelligent" than she is. I will not sink to that level at she has, I think unfairly, had her share of verbal lashings from people who feel brave due to their anonymity on the Internet. I will simply concede that I am clearly not the demographic she is writing for or even, frankly, cares about. I am sorry I am left with this bitter taste after finishing a book that at one point I couldn't bear to put down.
emotional
funny
informative
lighthearted
medium-paced
I think most people understand the idea that if you're questioning whether or not you're a good mother, for whatever value of good, then you are, in fact, a good mother. Just as crazy people don't know they're crazy, bad parents don't care whether or not they're parenting well. Waldman disproves this in so many ways it's not even funny.
I decided to read this book after reading the controversy surrounding her statement that she loved her husband more than her children. That didn't seem like a particularly strange sentiment to me. A woman may love her children with every molecule of her being, but they will grow up and go on to have their own independent lives. After that, one hopes, the husband will still be around and the marriage will benefit from maintenance of the love that made the babies. What I expected from the book was some genuine confrontation of the fundamental, ever-present game of second-guessing and worry that is motherhood. What I got was a rambling, self-indulgent, and, at times, openly hateful series of essays about what a good, thoughtful person Waldman is, even though she has children.
Waldman's essays, which mention her children and family but don't particularly adhere to any theme, seem to be contrived to prove what a good person she thinks she is, according to her own standards of goodness. While she and I are diametrically opposed politically (she's a liberal progressive, I'm a conservative libertarian), I chose not to judge her until she wrote that she had taught her children to hate John McCain "as much as they hate Dick Cheney." No, Ayelet, you are not a good mother. Good mothers, no matter how passionate they may be about the world and its issues, do not teach their children to hate.
If you are a liberal progressive who would like to read a bunch of self-indulgent tripe from a very wealthy Jewish woman with more time than sense, please, enjoy the book with my blessing. It's boring, uninspired and the prose is lackluster at best. Frankly I can't believe anybody ever enjoyed this book at all.
I decided to read this book after reading the controversy surrounding her statement that she loved her husband more than her children. That didn't seem like a particularly strange sentiment to me. A woman may love her children with every molecule of her being, but they will grow up and go on to have their own independent lives. After that, one hopes, the husband will still be around and the marriage will benefit from maintenance of the love that made the babies. What I expected from the book was some genuine confrontation of the fundamental, ever-present game of second-guessing and worry that is motherhood. What I got was a rambling, self-indulgent, and, at times, openly hateful series of essays about what a good, thoughtful person Waldman is, even though she has children.
Waldman's essays, which mention her children and family but don't particularly adhere to any theme, seem to be contrived to prove what a good person she thinks she is, according to her own standards of goodness. While she and I are diametrically opposed politically (she's a liberal progressive, I'm a conservative libertarian), I chose not to judge her until she wrote that she had taught her children to hate John McCain "as much as they hate Dick Cheney." No, Ayelet, you are not a good mother. Good mothers, no matter how passionate they may be about the world and its issues, do not teach their children to hate.
If you are a liberal progressive who would like to read a bunch of self-indulgent tripe from a very wealthy Jewish woman with more time than sense, please, enjoy the book with my blessing. It's boring, uninspired and the prose is lackluster at best. Frankly I can't believe anybody ever enjoyed this book at all.
I found Ayelet Waldman’s memoirs to be heartfelt and genuine. I laughed and I cried. But I don’t relate to her Jewish heritage, I wholeheartedly disagree with her position on abortion, and I have so far turned out to be what she might describe as a ninny who actually likes to listen to Raffi with my daughter. The last chapters turned out to be quite liberal, and not much about motherhood. I guess I didn’t realize how conservative I am... This book opened my eyes about the kind of mother I am and the kind of person I want to be. And for that self-realization, I’m glad to have read this book.
I found a lot of truth in Waldman’s observations about mothers, particularly in the first few chapters. I have been judged by the same women who judged her. I’ve felt the same disapproving eyes when I’ve fed my baby from a bottle when everyone knows “breast is best.” But as I read on, I began to judge Waldman, too. In my opinion, she is the worst of mothers. And yet, it didn’t really make me feel any better about what kind of mother I am, and it didn’t convince me that I am a “good” mother by comparison.
Bad Mother only proved to me that Ayelet Waldman is a bad mother doing the best she thinks she can. Maybe this book is just her defense of how she has raised her children so far. And maybe that’s all we each can do. Ignoring the critics who are bound to chime in, go about mothering to the best of our abilities.
I found a lot of truth in Waldman’s observations about mothers, particularly in the first few chapters. I have been judged by the same women who judged her. I’ve felt the same disapproving eyes when I’ve fed my baby from a bottle when everyone knows “breast is best.” But as I read on, I began to judge Waldman, too. In my opinion, she is the worst of mothers. And yet, it didn’t really make me feel any better about what kind of mother I am, and it didn’t convince me that I am a “good” mother by comparison.
Bad Mother only proved to me that Ayelet Waldman is a bad mother doing the best she thinks she can. Maybe this book is just her defense of how she has raised her children so far. And maybe that’s all we each can do. Ignoring the critics who are bound to chime in, go about mothering to the best of our abilities.
I didn't agree with all of her opinions, but her writing style is engaging. I'm a sucker for memoir, especially parenting essays (odd, since I'm not even sure if I want kids), so this was a worthwhile read.
I liked Love and Other Impossible Pursuits better, but this was still a quick read. Probably only recommended for people who really dig personal essays or the author.
An especially honest take on what it's like to be a mofern mother. BUT also a cynic, worrier, and borderline oversharer. The author has some bright spots in this mommy memoir, but it's plagued by her own self-doubt and uneasiness about nearly everything. I'm not yet a mother, perhaps this is truely some people's parental experience. Certain chapter were full of Negative Nancy with glimmers of hope sprinkled in for taste. For the most part, it felt like this was Waldman's catharsis or therapy session with herself.
I started reading this book as part of my desire to read about motherhood. ugh, bad choice. It's not that Waldman is saying anything wrong--she's just so unbelievably irritating and smug while saying it that it ruins her point. She's like your crazy, annoying aunt who pushes you in a corner every Christmas and tells you waaaayyy too much information about her personal life. I think the only reason Ayelet was able to publish this book had to do with the controversy over her New York Times article where she said she loved her husband more than her children. Again, i didn't have any issue with her point, it's just that you have to wade through so much whining and unnecessary detail to get to it. She could have summed up this entire book with one well-constructed paragraph.
Waldman is married to Michael Chabon, one of my favorite writers, and I'm hoping she hasn't ruined him for me!
Waldman is married to Michael Chabon, one of my favorite writers, and I'm hoping she hasn't ruined him for me!