Journal of the Motherhood Initiative for Research and Community Involvement (JMI - York University)

Gamber, Cayo

Cayo Gamber 
In a Napping House 
On beige paper within the parameters of the turquoise lines-a solid line, 
then a perforated line, then a solid line-my six-year-old daughter wrote her 
class work. The piece of paper came home in her backpack this afternoon. On 
this paper, in pencil, she has carefully printed the following words: 
There was a wakeful flea on a slumbering mouse on a snoozing cat on a 
dozing dog on a dreaming child on a snoring granny on a cozy bed in a 
napping house where everyone is sleeping. 
Now, while she sleeps upstairs, I sort through all of the papers clumped 
together-announcements from the principal, drawings, math problems, and 
then this piece of paper with an orange star that has been drawn by her 
kindergarten teacher, Ms. Cohen, at the top. I wonder how these words came 
together. Is this a faithful rendering of a story they read in class? 
I would ask her, but am reluctant to do so, not only because she is sleeping 
now, but also because if she were awake, we might end up in one of those 
bungled conversations. Over the last few years I have become aware how it 
difficult it can be to ask a child how her day has gone. I have since discovered 
that often I become the inadequate inquisitor and she the reluctant respondent. 
"Hey Blake," I would begin, "when didyou write thispiece andwhere does the 
idea comefim?' 
She would respond, in her literal fashion, "at school, in Ms. Cohen's class." 
I would try again, "Yes, but where didyouget the idea for the sto y. I really love 
the image you construct here." 
Shrugging, she would respond, "Idon't know." 
Journal $the Associationfor Research on Mothering / 113 
Cayo Gamber 
Giving it one last try, I would say, "Why didyou receive an orange star on the 
piece? What  were you asked to do?" 
Moving away, she would respond, " l jus t  dz'd what  Ms. Cohen asked me to." 
Thus, for now, I stand admiring how she has written her class work. Each 
word is printed with great care. There are no misspellings. The print moves, 
uniformly, from left to right. The rendering is so precise that there are no 
margins. I am charmed by what she has written as well. 
T h e  careful order ofsmaller creature to larger is pleasing. I like how the 
images are built into one sentence, beginning at the top of the pyramid and 
ending at the bottom. I savour the words: slumbering, snoozing, dozing, 
dreaming, snoring, napping, sleeping. 
I would, however, like to rid the piece of the wakeful flea. I know what it 
means to be the wakeful flea-the one unquiet being who seems bothersome 
in such a peaceful pyramid. Unbidden, in my mind, I hear wakeful conversa- 
tions and see unquiet images. I hear a friend of mine, who lost her 12-year-old 
daughter in an unexpected, split-second horseback riding accident, saying, 
"You know, even ifyour child dies, you never stop being a parent." In my mind, 
I see another woman I know who lost her teenaged son in a car accident. She 
was on the evening news the day her son's best friend went to trial. The friend's 
reckless driving through rush-hour traffic had resulted in Lynn's son's death 
and severe injuries to two other passengers. Standing on the steps of the 
courthouse, with multiple microphones in her face, she said, "He needs to 
remember that his best friend's final moments were filled with fear and terror, 
and he was the cause." Every time I see this woman, in my mind I see an image 
of her son, and hear the words, his "final moments were filled with fear and 
terror." 
These are the best times, I have been told, when your child is with you still, 
under your care, in your house. I pick up Blake's lunch box, in which I have 
packed a peanut-butter sandwich, a juice box, a snack-pack of pretzels, and an 
apple. Thelunch box is tin with a blackand red plaid print. It is a gift from Clark 
whom she likes to think of as her father. Every time I look at the lunch box I 
am reminded of Anne Frank's diary; the cover of her diary was decorated with 
the same plaid design. How do you keep the horror away; how do you banish 
the thoughts of children dead in horse-riding accidents; children dead in their 
best friends' cars; children dead, casualties of genocide? How do you keep the 
horror away from your child? 
Will I ward off danger by standing here in the living room thinking of the 
worst that could happen? My hand smooths the piece of paper, and I read the 
words again: 
There was a wakeful flea on a slumbering mouse on a snoozing cat on a 
dozing dog on a dreaming child on a snoring granny on a cozy bed in a 
napping house where everyone is sleeping. 
114 / Volume 5, Number 2 
In a Napping House 
Wakeful as the flea, I remind myself, this is a good moment, loolung at 
Blake's classwork, examining the evidence of her day, as she sleeps upstairs. I 
remind myself it is good to be here, now, in the security of a napping house, and 
tell myselfthat these wakeful cogitations are deep reminders ofhow much I love 
my dreaming child. I also realize that such cogitations are, in part, the product 
of magical thinlung. These thoughts are a carry over from my own childhood 
when I believed if I just imagined the worst fully, deeply, completely, then I 
could prevent it from coming to pass. Watchful, vigilant, and wakeful I try to 
imagine the worst, hoping the magic formula will work and my daughter will 
remain forever safe. 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering 1 115 


English

In a Napping House

Green, Fiona Joy

Book Reviews 
Poet's Clothes" she expresses her frustration and anxiety as a mother: "I cannot 
/ find a way to make him understand that I love him . . . it's as though I am 
chasing / him down a path but he's always faster than me" (10). 
Her own mother's life and words, however, serve as framework for Gillan's 
volume. The poems tenderly recount her mother's life, the gifts she gave and 
what she taught her daughter: "treasure my children and keep them close . . . 
I know what my mother meant when she told me my children were the only 
treasure I'd ever need (95). Early poems in the collection recount her mother's 
prolonged illness and eventual death. In these powerful poems, Gillan uses 
lyrical free verse to capture the images and feeling of love between mother and 
daughter, a daughter's pain in letting go of a dying mother. In "Brushing My 
Mother's Hair," "Singing to My Mother," and "My Mother's Garden 11," 
Gillan captures the physicality and tenderness of care between an aging mother 
and her grown daughter and the visceral quality of their attachment. This is a 
moving collection that reveals Gillan as both mother and child. 
Double Jeopardy: Motherwork and the Law 
Turnbull, Lorna A. 
Toronto: Sumach Press, 2001. 
Reviewed by Fiona Joy Green 
In commonplace language, Lorna Turnbull-Assistant Professor of Law, 
feminist, wife, and mother of three children-critiques North American law 
for placing women in double jeopardy. Through the effective use of statistics 
and specific decisions made by provincial courts of appeal and the Supreme 
Court of Canada, she shows how the structure and practice of Canadian law 
and, to a lesser extent, American law takes power away from women. Her 
impressive study oflegal cases regarding pregnancy, breastfeeding, and taxation 
demonstrates how the subordination ofmothers is initiated and perpetuated by 
the law. 
Chapter one describes how the law fails to provide adequate support for 
those in caregiving roles. Chapter two defines law, its hierarchal structure and 
adversarial system, and the various ways feminist thinkers have challenged the 
supposed separation of law from the political sphere. Chapter three explores 
how the law embraces the social characterization of "good and "bad mothers 
and is not responsive to mothers' lived experiences. Focusing on the Canadian 
income-tax system, Turnbull provides specific examples of double jeopardy for 
mothers who are employed and unemployed. 
Chapter four explores how legal and cultural attitudes towards pregnancy 
182 / Volume 5, Number 2 
Book Reviews 
inform legalattitudes towards mothers and mothering ingeneral. Chapter five, 
"The Legal Characterization of Motherwork," reveals how heterosexism, 
homophobia, class bias, racism, and a lack of understanding of the realities of 
poverty in the lives of mothers continue to influence the practice of law and the 
lives ofmothers. Simply stated, the law is often blind to the realities of mothers. 
In chapter six, Turnbull discusses income-tax rules and their impact on mothers 
and on motherwork. By comparing the tax systems of Canada and the United 
States, she illustrates how mothers, depending on their social location and 
particular situation, may or may not benefit from these differing tax systems. 
The final two chapters are the most exciting, as the author proposes how 
law and legislation can be used together as a strategy for social change. This 
approach, Turnbull stresses, must be part of an overall strategy that includes 
political lobbying, grassroots organizing, and other approaches to bring about 
social change. By explaining the incremental nature oflegal change and how the 
traditional male model oflitigation is hierarchical in its organization, Turnbull 
exposes the limitations as well as the potential benefits of litigation as a strategy 
for social change. In doing so, she shows that the law can be used to help 
transform rather than simply reform women's inequahty. 
Turnbull elucidates the many problems around motherwork in Canadian 
law and legislation. She successfully implements Charlotte Bunch's four 
elements of feminist theory. She describes the situation of mothers in relation 
to the law, provides textured analysis, and offers a vision and a strategy for 
changing that relationship. Other fine features of the book include a table of 
cases and a glossary of legal and feminist terms. This book will be useful to 
readers interested in taxation, income tax law and legislation, and to students 
and teachers ofWomen's Studies. Avaluable resource, Double Jeopardy also will 
appeal to mothers, academics, and activists interested in mothering, motherwork, 
and their relationship to the law. 
Unbroken Homes: 
Single-Parent Mothers Tell Their Stories 
Paterson, Wendy A. 
Binghampton, N Y  Haworth Press, 2000. 
Reviewed by Diana L. Gustafson 
When a marriage ends in divorce, the resulting family structure is often referred 
to as a broken home. This negative image seems to be supported by literature 
that associates single-parent families with a variety of social ills, such as 
delinquency and drug abuse, and that labels those emerging from such families 
as damaged or broken (4). As the title suggests, Unbroken Homes presents the 
Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering 1 183 


Double Jeopardy: Motherwork and the Law

McIntyre, Maura

Maura Mclntyre 
On Daughters, 
Dissertations and 
Dementia 
O n  the block where I grew up I had the only mother who worked outside the 
home. Like the other fathers on the street, on weekday mornings my mother 
drove away in her big black car and didn't return until evening. She always took 
offher suit when she came home and put her bags down in the same place, ready 
for morning. Lined up on the long radiator cover beside my parents bed were 
my mothers matching sets ofpurses and pumps: brown for fall, black for winter, 
navy for spring and white for summer. The contents: lipsticks and face powder, 
cigarettes, balled up wads of Kleenex, wallet and keys, moved from purse to 
purse as the seasons changed. Her black leather briefcase held files and papers 
and books, and a day timer stuffed with extra slips of paper held in place with 
paper clips then bound with an elastic band. 
More than work, my mother always had a career that I could name. In 
school I remember putting up my hand and asking the teacher where to put 
"mother's occupation" on the form. My friends didn't talk about their mothers 
in those terms, their mothers were simply their mothers; itwas theirfatherswho 
were something else too. Other Moms worked at home and were there at lunch 
time and when we came home from school and watched the Flintstones; other 
Moms did the grocery shopping and cleaned the house. Maria was paid to clean 
our house, and my father did the grocery shopping when he remembered. W e  
frequently met for dinner in restaurants or ate instant boxed or frozen meals. 
Homemade food was occasionally produced to coincide with some culturally 
prescribed holiday for which my Mom felt obliged to cook or bake. 
When we went to our house for lunch Bernadette with the cleavage and 
beehive ("are-you-sure-it-is-real?") hair taught us how to play poker in her 
thick French accent. My Baba ("she's confused") sat on the couch and smoked, 
and Mrs. Lepidis ("she keeps Baba company") sat beside her. My other 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering 87 
Maura McIntyre 
grandmother, who seemed normal by comparison (she could be trusted not to 
put the radishes in the freezer), lived with us when she wasn't in Ireland. For 
many years young men and often their girlfriends or wives came to stay at a 
moment's notice. They stayed for weeks, months and years, Vietnam draft 
dodgers who were "getting their lives in order." 
* 
My mother defended her doctoral dissertation when I was 18 and she was 
48. It  took her ten years to complete. Ten years, in which she worked full time, 
lost both parents, raised two children, separated from and divorced my father. 
Waiting for what feels like hours outside the tightly closed door of the room in 
which she is conducting her defense, a huge bouquet of daisies at the ready, I 
strain to hear the muffled sounds of my mother's voice. 
I remember sitting in the kitchen and hearing the sound of her feet pacing 
overhead in the study. 
I remember climbing the stairs late at night on my way to bed and seeing 
her sitting at her desk. 
I remember hearing her voice as I fell asleep, muffled between rooms, 
speaking into her Dictaphone. 
When asked why she was speaking, rather than writing her dissertation my 
mother explained that, for her generation, if a woman learned how to type she 
was at risk ofbeing asked to do typing for men, or of becoming a secretary. She 
had found it prudent not to learn how to type. 
August 27,1995 
Walking down the overly steriie hospital corridor wishing that I had 
grabbed a shower before coming, I notice my nails look particularly dirty in this 
environment. Checking in at the desk the evening nurse says the doctor is on 
the floor. She wants to speak to me. 
"Wait just a minute, I'll page her," he says, touching my arm. 
Almost as fast as I hear his voice over the loudspeaker, there she is, the red 
headed Dr. Turpie and she's smiling-click, click, click-as she approaches 
me, and in one motion she is opening a door and saying, 
'Why don't we just step into the conference room?" 
Too friendly tone, too bright eyed, I know that there is something up. I 
stand, and then sit on the arm of a darkgreen leather couch, pale green painted 
walls, framed floral prints-at least someone was trying to make up for no 
windows, I think. This must be the room where they take the family to talk 
about the terminal cancer diagnosis. "Stop smiling at me," I think, "Why am 
I here?" 
And in less than five minutes I'm checking my nails again, still dirty, as I 
approach her room, stomach balled up. My shoes are so soft soled and quiet she 
doesn't look up, perched on the edge of her bed, feet dangling down, not quite 
reaching the floor, engrossed in reading a book propped up in the middle of the 
tray, dangerously close to the coleslaw. Chewing, she hasn't heard me or felt my 
88 / Volume S, Number 2 
On Daughters, Dissertations and Dementia 
presence yet, standing there looping potential sentences through my head. 
Looking up she begins to smile, but her expression shifts before it has even 
fully formed, 
'What is it darling?" 
She knows something is up before I have even opened my mouth, knows 
even though I don't think my face is giving anything away. 
Well ,  hi," I say, thinking that I can slow the moment down. 
Looking straight at me, 
"What do you mean "hi"? 'What is it? You look so troubled." 
She puts down the chicken drumstick she has been gnawing--Friday 
night, Mount Sinai Hospital, chicken. I leave her curious, worried brown eyes 
looking for relief from the intensity growing in my stomach, from the tightness 
in my throat. Moving out the window, the bright sunshine seems s t r a n g r i t s  
dinner time, but then, its late August; it's the 5:00 dinner that's early. 
"Maura.. .?" 
I take a step closer to the bed and move a pile of files and loose papers lively 
with yellow stickys and highlighter pen aside. Sitting down, I scan the papers, 
"3216 F Social Policy and . . ." I start to read. A course syllabus. 
"I just saw Dr. Turpie, Mom . . . she caught me on my way in from the 
elevator.. .," I begin slowly, looking into her anxious face. 
"And?" she says, and immediately I can see the shift from worry to relief 
to anger flash across her face as she understands that its not me, or the luds, its 
only to do with her.. . and she knows she's fine. 
"Mom, Dr. Turpie has all the tests back The ECG.. . the other scan they 
did last week and the scores from the tests the psychologist did," I begin. 
"They're saying that there's an impairment, Mom. They think it's from the 
coma. They're saying.. ." I'm looking straight at her but now she's shifting her 
pile of papers, standing up and moving toward the window ledge, not loolung 
at me. 
"Mom they're saying that they think you shouldn't teach, at least not this 
fall, till they know . . . till they see how you do . . . it would be a leave, a medical 
leave.. . ." 
She interrupts me, 
"They are so full of shit. My courses are ready to go, classes start in five days, 
I'm ready to leave this place," turning to the bed she gestures with anger at her 
papers and books. "It's wasting my time being here.. . . And what do they do, 
they send you here as their messenger? Who do they think they are, those 
bastards, putting this on you?" Her voice is rising, W h a t  do they think I will 
do? Are they scared of me?" Now her eyes are flashing. 
June 2,1997 
I explain that I am moving them out of respect. Grant applications to 
SSHRC, student papers, research reports, journal articles, her curriculum vitae. 
Box after box-and yes, I really did already take nine blue boxes to the curb. 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering 1 89 
Maura McIntyre 
And yes, I will be the one to figure out where to put them in our too small house. 
I have already donated over a hundred books to the faculty. For sure she was an 
academic before computers and the vast majority of these papers are junk, but 
they are her papers, her remains, all that remains of her magnificent career. 
* 
When the kids come to our house for lunch Ezra with the waist length 
("are-you-sure-they-are-real?") red dreadlocks teaches them how to play pick- 
me-up. Their Baba ("she's confused) sits on the couch (but smokes outside), 
while Ezra ("he keeps Baba company") kicks the soccer ball. Their other 
grandparents, who seem normal by comparison (they can be trusted not to put 
the radishes in the freezer), stay with us when they are visiting from out west. 
October 1, 1999 
It has taken longer than usual to assemble my audience, and still the lady 
with the blue eyes is restless and keeps wandering off Clearing my throat I 
decide that I will begin todaywith my methodology chapter, the section on data 
collection methods that I want to enliven. Eleanor has taken the corner of her 
afghan, a brown, beige and orange affair and is slowly wrapping it around the 
leg ofher chair. Mildred is filly alseep. Vincenzo has pulled up with his walker, 
turned it around while holding onto the wall bar, and is now sitting on it 
backwards, looking at me expectantly. My mother is following my every move 
with her bright brown eyes. 
"The section of my dissertation that I'm going to read today I'm finding 
kind ofdull. I'mlookingforways to make the writing more interesting," I begin. 
Mildred has opened her eyes and is smiling and nodding. I feel encouraged 
and forge ahead. 
"In the qualitative research methodologyliterature there is agreement that 
the most important factor in the interview is the quality of the relationship 
between the researcher and research participant.. ." 
'Yes!" my mother suddenly blurts out, "yes!" 
These are the first words she has uttered in weeks. 
Monday January 8,2000 
The ultrasound technician has said that she can't tell me anything, but 
lying there flat on my back I know the answer by the look on her face. There 
is no heart beat. Twins. Heartless twins. Tears well up in my eyes. Sitting up 
slowly, numb with resignation, I swing my feet to the floor. 
And then I hear my mother's voice in my mind's ear: "The best dissertation 
is a done dissertation." 
Wednesday June 14,2000 
My final committee meeting is today at 2:OOp.m. Tight for time I decide 
I can still squeeze in a briefvisit with Mom. Seeing her will ground me and bring 
me good luck. 
90 1 Volume S, Number 2 
On Daughters, Dissertations and Dementia 
Loclung my bike in the regular spot I notice a wide deep hole in the grass 
directly in front of the main entrance. Wet brown earth is piled neatly beside 
the hole and close beside is a tall silver birch tree, leaning precariously over to 
one side, root ball wrapped in burlap. I push the code buttons to enter, noticing 
that there are no residents sitting outside. Inside, the lobby is buzzing with 
activity. It  turns out that today is the twenty-fifth anniversary of the nursing 
home. A ceremonial tree is to be planted and a giant slab cake will be cut by the 
homes oldest resident, who, by sheer coincidence, happens to live on the same 
floor as Mom. 
Getting off the elevator my eyes instinctively scan to Mom's place at her 
table, but the furniture has been rearranged for the cake cutting and Mom isn't 
anywhere to be seen. A small cluster of residents is anchored near the TV and 
there is a commotion-something is clearly not right-at the nursing station. 
I catch a glimpse of Stephanie, the RPN from Newfoundland, leaning up 
against the door jam of the staffwashroom, face in hands. She is stifling sobs, 
no, she is laughingshe is laughing hysterically. She has come completely 
undone and is laughing so hard that she is snorting and tears are running down 
her cheeks. "Oh, Maura," she says, gesturing for me to come over. "She said she 
didn't want to cut the cake. But we cajoled and coaxed and finally she agreed. 
But . . . she had the last laugh. I justwent to get her, and Maura, Mrs. Kendall, 
she had the last laugh. She died." 
"She what?" I ask, closing the door of the staff bathroom behind me. 
"She stopped breathing. It  must have been about fifteen minutes ago. She 
looks as pretty as a picture sitting in her wheelchair all dressed up ready to cut 
the cake. But she's dead. " 
Wiping her face with the back of her hand Stephanie has moved over to 
the mirror above the sink and is dabbing at her mascara with her baby finger. 
Turning back toward me she takes my arm. "Oh my gosh, I know its not 
funny, but sometimes . . . hey, do you think your motherwould cut it? The cake? 
Ifyou helped her? She's not that old, but she's an important person too, being 
a professor and all." 
Friday September 22,2000 
I have been a Doctor of Education for three hours. Wined and dined and 
laden with flowers we wheelMom outside to enjoy the September sun. Settling 
in a corner of the patio outside the nursing home I begin to tell her about the 
day: about the questions my committee members asked, about the dignity ofmy 
external examiner, about my beloved supervisor, about Cecelia waiting with 
roses. Peter drags my dissertation out of my canvas bag, sets it on Mom's lap, 
opens it, and starts turning pages and reading sections aloud. But it is the sleepy 
after lunch time of the day and the September sun is such a warm caress on our 
cheeks that soon we are dozing, heads on each others shoulders, the red wine 
from lunch drifting through us like fallen leaves. 
* 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering 1 91 
Maura McIntyre 
I defended my doctoral dissertation when I was 39 and my mother was 70. 
It  tookme five years to complete. Five years, in which I worked part time, raised 
two children, cared for my mother in her home, in our home, and in a nursing 
home, and celebrated the twentieth anniversary of being still not married to the 
same man. 
* 
Sometimes when I walk into the cafeteria quickly, when I am distracted 
and preoccupied with a piece ofwriting and I really need a cup of tea, I hear her 
voice from across the room-deep, authoritative, a touch pedantic. I hear the 
click, click, click of her pumps moving across the floor toward me. And then 
I turn, disappointed, and decide to go downstairs to get a breath of fresh air. I 
will pick up the syllabus for my new course at the printer, I decide. I leave by 
the west door so that I can look at the backentrance to the faculty. I see her there 
again. It is 1971, she is wearing a red crochet beret, red, red, lipstick and is 
leaning up against the wall, laughing and smoking with a group of students. 
Was she really a teacher in the academe? Am I? 
92 Volume 5, Number 2 


On Daughters, Dissertations and Dementia

Harde, Roxanne

Book Reviews 
Lost Daughters (China, Evans elucidates the process that leads to a couple's 
decision to adopt a child. Some couples choose to cross cultural and racial as 
well as genetic lines. Such choices are not easy to make and even more difficult 
to fulfill, however. 
The bookbegins with a description of Evans' family and the circumstances 
that lead to their decision to adopt across ethnic lines. A realistic and, some 
might say, gripping account of the adoption process follows. (Anyone who can 
write a gripping account of two years ofwaiting deserves praise for that alone.) 
Along the way, Evan includes numerous digressions into various aspects of 
Chinese history, the history ofwomen in China, the population crisis, and the 
government's attempts to deal with the problem. The historically unprec- 
edented result of Chinese policies governing birth and population control is the 
"international female diaspora." Many thousands of Chinese infants, almost 
exclusively girls, have been adopted by families in the United States, Canada, 
and many other developed countries. 
Many people have heard about "Chinese adoptions" or may know some- 
one who has "actually done it." International adoption is no longer rare. Evans 
discusses the generic issues applicable to all adoptive families, as well as those 
specific to adoptions from China. The latter are many and Evan explores 
Chinese culture, the causes, the magnitude, and the results of the population 
crisis (China has more than 50 times the population of Canada with a roughly 
similar land area), and the powerful forces that govern people's lives in China. 
A significant portion of the book is devoted to the plight of unknown 
Chinese mothers. Each mother has had to act in a way that is completely 
contrary to her "natural" instincts: she has had to sever the mother-chiid bond 
so that her daughter may have a chance at life. Evans has little sympathy, 
however, for the fathers of these lost daughters. 
The bookis intense, personal, andwellwritten. It gives a balanced account 
of a complicated process spanning two cultures and centuries of history. I t  is 
essential for anyone contemplating adoption, especially from China, and 
recommended for any student of Chinese history and culture. 
Child: 
An Anthology of Poetry and Prose 
Dunlop, Rishma, ed. 
Toronto: Boundary Bay Press, 2001 
Reviewed by Roxanne Harde 
In her introduction, editor Rishma Dunlop suggests that Child An Anthology 
ofPoety and Prose "is about capturing our relationships to the qualities of the 
child within each of us," and she goes on to point out that "this book is about 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering ( 223 
Book Reviews 
the child as a way ofknowing the world" (5). While some of the pieces ofwriting 
included in Child fulfill these epistemological intentions, the poems and short 
pieces of prose tend, rather, to explore how the writerlspeaker comes to fuller 
self-knowledge through interaction with the child. The speaker's gaze, by and 
large, tends to turn inward rather than outward. For every piece that presents 
the child's perspective in one way or another, there are several that present the 
child from an adult's perspective, and both approaches are valid and valuable as 
ways of knowing. In the first case, for example, gary raspberry and Rebecca 
Luce-Kapler revisit sites ofchildhood as they examine, in diverse and enigmatic 
ways, how coming-of-age continues to inform their worldview. In the latter 
case, Gary Kembel and Renee Norman follow rites of passages in the lives of 
their young children as they become the rites and rituals that inform the adult 
speaker. Similarly, the two selections ofprose in the text, from Bill Richardson 
and David Beers, articulate what the birth of a child, in this case the same child, 
has taught and given them. 
While the pieces mentioned above are provocative and thoughtful works 
of contemporary poetry and personal narrative, the general quality of the 
selections is uneven. Too often Dunlop has included that brand of contempo- 
rary meditative poetry that, by saying everything, ultimately says nothing at all. 
Leigh Faulkner provides examples of both overly transparent and beautifully 
formed verse in his poems on his daughter's death. "Poems of Loss I & 11" 
describe her illness and death with an abundance of description that leaves the 
reader with little to carry away. His "Ghazals of Loss" presents the type of 
succinct phrasing that haunts readers and makes clear the lack ofweight in the 
earlier poems; for example, "I pile words into a rough mountain / my grief 
refuses to stay hidden" (36), and "I've written your death so many ways / each 
remains a monstrous fiction" (37). Furthermore, Dunlop's inclusion of a 
previouslypublished poem by notedlrishwriter Eavan Boland only accentuates 
the shortcomings ofthe weaker pieces, and seems an ill-fitting conclusion to an 
otherwise all-Canadian collection. 
What the text lacks in consistencyofwriting, however, it makes up forwith 
a marvelous selection of photographs of children of varying ages and cultures. 
The work of several contributors, the photographs function as a photo-essay 
they convey their own meaning and enrich that of the written texts. They are 
a welcome addition to this beautifully bound and printed volume, one that 
ought to be a welcome addition to public, academic, secondary, and private 
libraries. 
224 / Volume 5, Number l 


Child: An Anthology of Poetry and Prose

Horwitz, Erika

Book Reviews 
political gesture, one that fosters a new way of thinking and acting in the world 
that debunks the pervasive push to "do it alone." This book will be an 
inspiration to readers. 
Mothers and Children 
Chase, Susan E., and Mary F. Rogers. 
New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2001. 
Reviewed by Erika Horwitz 
As a student and researcher, I always am searching for useful literature on the 
subject of mothers and mothering in Western society. Mothers and Children is 
an insightful book that reviews important topics aboht the social constructions 
of motherhood. Further, the authors seek to give voice to mothers themselves 
by including a series of narratives that illustrate their points. 
In part one, "The Social Constructions of Motherhood," Chase and 
Rogers suggest that ideologies and practices around mothering are historically 
and culturally specific. They point out that the current constructions of 
motherhood have a negative impact on mothers and their children. The authors 
examine feminist views about motherhood, the historical roots and impact of 
the social discourses of "good" versus "bad" mothers, and the subject of "father 
absence." I was particularly impressed by their emphasis on the importance of 
fathers' (or father figures') loving participation in the lives of children and by 
their arguments against the notion that nuclear families are superior to other 
types of families. This section of the book offers an excellent summary of the 
dominant discourse on mothering and its impact on the lives of mothers and 
their children. 
In part two, the authors explore the connection between women's bodies 
and motherhood. They point out how social constructions ofmotherhood have 
led to a view of mothers as asexual and they emphasize the importance of 
. L 
reclaiming mothers as sexual and erotic beings. The authors also examine how 
mainstream medicine has shaped reproductive and birthing practices and they 
highlight the importance ofchoice. Part two concludes with an examination of 
the complexities of infertility and the medical technologies aimed at "helping 
women to conceive. 
Part three focuses on the topic of "Mothering in Everyday Life." In 
discussing the actual experiences of mothers, the authors emphasize the 
importance of social change in supporting mothers and children. They discuss 
the relationships of mothers and children, "othermothering," and mothering as 
political action. This last section in the book illustrates the struggles of 
contemporary mothers. It  touches on the importance of involving others 
("othermothering") in raising children, not only for the benefit ofmothers who 
Journal oftbe Associationfor Research on Mothering / 187 
Book Reviews 
can then focus their attention on other matters, but for children who currently 
are growing up with limited adult connections on which to rely for nurturing 
and pidance. The authors also discuss mothers as social activists. 
Most important, Mothersand Children gives voice to mothers. Jeannine 0. 
Howitz, for example, who considers herself a feminist mother, provides the 
reader with a compelling message: mothers' work is work. Through her 
narrative, we glimpse the struggles of a mother who is trying to make sense of 
(and survive) the social constructions of motherhood that contradict her views 
and experience. This book is inspiring and educational at a deep level. 
The New Midwifery: 
Science and Sensitivity in Practice 
Page, Lesley Ann, ed. 
Edinburgh: Churchill Livingstone, 2000. 
Reviewed by Christine Brook 
This outstanding book builds on Lesley Page's previous contributions in the 
fields of continuity of care, evidence based practice, and the humanization of 
maternity services. Written for midwives and midwifery students, the book 
addresses issues which will enable midwives to develop woman-centred prac- 
tice and to practice with increased autonomy, in keeping with changes to 
maternity services being demanded by childbearing women in many parts ofthe 
industrialized world. 
The bookcontains three sections: effective and appropriate care; transition 
to parenting; and adaptation and growth in pregnancy, birth and early life. The 
first section covers evidence based practice in the context of sensitive midwifery 
practice. The marrying of the humanization of midwifery practice with the 
scientific evidence for practice creates a wonderful juncture of the art and 
science of midwifery practice, contextualizing the professional need for scien- 
tific reasoning within the context of humanistic care. The second section 
focuses on the transition to parenting, in particular the social and emotional 
experiences of childbearing women and their families, and midwifery practices 
that can support and promote healthy adaptation. The third section focuses on 
the physiology of childbearing and midwifery practices to support early 
parenting. 
Throughout the book the primacy of the relationship between childbear- 
ing women and their midwives is recognized. This relationship can contribute 
towards enabling women to meet their needs and have a satisfactory, indeed life 
enhancing experience of childbearing and maternity care. A good relationship 
is not sufficient on its own, however, and the professional responsibility of 
midwives to maintain their scientific knowledge base is emphasized at all times. 
188 1 Volume 5, Number 2 


Mothers and Children

Toepell, Andrea Riesch

Book Reviews 
to cope with life today. Using the Internet to reach a broad audience, Witkin 
- 
surveyed 800 children aged nine to twelve about their stress and compared their 
responses to the results of surveys taken by their parents. She discovered that 
children are more stressed than ever and due to agreater variety ofissues: sibling 
rivalries, parental divorce and blended families, school expectations, peer 
pressures, exposure to violence in the media and fears about world conditions. 
Most surprising is Witkin's discoverythat parents surveyed had not taken a full 
measure of their children's stress. Witkin reports that parents badly underes- 
timate how much children worry, how alone many of them feel, how much 
sleep they lose due to stress, and how often they are fearful of confiding in their 
parents. The adults Witkin surveyed underestimated school stress and overes- 
timated peer pressure, underestimated how often children's fears were realistic, 
and underestimated a deep altruism that made many children sad about 
problems afflicting family, community, and world. 
While making clear connections between emotional stress, physical ill- 
ness, and other problems over-stressed children may experience, KidShess 
focuses most heavily on how parents can teach children to combat anxieties and 
fears with useful lists of tips categorized by issue. Witkin takes note of gender 
differences in coping and points out that parental modeling, birth order, 
income and other factors can affect how well children manage. One drawback 
of the volume is that it has been carelessly proofread; small diction and other 
errors detract from readability in numerous places. In addition, the book could 
use an update to account for publications and events since its l999 appearance. 
For example, Witkin cites two long-term studies of how divorce affects 
children by psychologist Judith Wallerstein but was not able to include a third 
published in 2000, The UnexpectedLegay $Divorce. As this thirdvolume offers 
important insights about lessening stress for children when parents consider 
divorce, it would make an important addition to the information Kidstress 
provides. 
The Lost Daughters of China: 
Abandoned Girls, Their Journey to America, and 
the Search for a Missing Past 
Evans, Karin. 
New York: Jeremy P. TarchedPutnam, 2000. 
Reviewed by Andrea Riesch Toepell 
Karin Evans and her husband wanted to have a child. For most people, this 
desire is fulfilled easilythrough a pregnancy carried to term. For some, however, 
10 to 25 percent of all couples (depending on age), it is not so simple. In The 
222 / Volume 5, Number 1 
Book Reviews 
Lost Daughters (China, Evans elucidates the process that leads to a couple's 
decision to adopt a child. Some couples choose to cross cultural and racial as 
well as genetic lines. Such choices are not easy to make and even more difficult 
to fulfill, however. 
The bookbegins with a description of Evans' family and the circumstances 
that lead to their decision to adopt across ethnic lines. A realistic and, some 
might say, gripping account of the adoption process follows. (Anyone who can 
write a gripping account of two years ofwaiting deserves praise for that alone.) 
Along the way, Evan includes numerous digressions into various aspects of 
Chinese history, the history ofwomen in China, the population crisis, and the 
government's attempts to deal with the problem. The historically unprec- 
edented result of Chinese policies governing birth and population control is the 
"international female diaspora." Many thousands of Chinese infants, almost 
exclusively girls, have been adopted by families in the United States, Canada, 
and many other developed countries. 
Many people have heard about "Chinese adoptions" or may know some- 
one who has "actually done it." International adoption is no longer rare. Evans 
discusses the generic issues applicable to all adoptive families, as well as those 
specific to adoptions from China. The latter are many and Evan explores 
Chinese culture, the causes, the magnitude, and the results of the population 
crisis (China has more than 50 times the population of Canada with a roughly 
similar land area), and the powerful forces that govern people's lives in China. 
A significant portion of the book is devoted to the plight of unknown 
Chinese mothers. Each mother has had to act in a way that is completely 
contrary to her "natural" instincts: she has had to sever the mother-chiid bond 
so that her daughter may have a chance at life. Evans has little sympathy, 
however, for the fathers of these lost daughters. 
The bookis intense, personal, andwellwritten. It gives a balanced account 
of a complicated process spanning two cultures and centuries of history. I t  is 
essential for anyone contemplating adoption, especially from China, and 
recommended for any student of Chinese history and culture. 
Child: 
An Anthology of Poetry and Prose 
Dunlop, Rishma, ed. 
Toronto: Boundary Bay Press, 2001 
Reviewed by Roxanne Harde 
In her introduction, editor Rishma Dunlop suggests that Child An Anthology 
ofPoety and Prose "is about capturing our relationships to the qualities of the 
child within each of us," and she goes on to point out that "this book is about 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering ( 223 


The Lost Daughters of China: Abandoned Girls, Their Journey to America and the Search for a Missing Past

Moravec, Michelle

Mother Art: Feminism, Art and Activism

Mullin, Amy

Book Reviews 
Blessed Events: 
Religion and Home Birth in America 
Klassen, Pamela E. 
Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001. 
Reviewed by Amy Mullin 
BlessedEvents explores childbirth as a life-shaping experience. Pamela Klassen 
is a feminist scholar of religion who home-birthed her own children. The book 
is based on the author's interviews with forty-five home-birthing North 
American women from a variety of religious traditions (predominantly Chris- 
tian, Jewish, New-Age, andatheists). While the women are mostly middle class 
and Euro-American, they vary not only in their religious affiliations but also in 
their commitment to feminism. Some are feminist activists, others are ambiva- 
lent about feminism, and still others view themselves as appropriately subordi- 
nate to their husbands. What they share is an interest in and respect forwomen's 
experience in childbirth, and a commitment to women's right to exercise 
control over the place of birth and the choice of birth attendants. Most of the 
home-birthing women were attended by certified nurse midwives and direct- 
entry midwives, but a few were attended by doctors or family members. 
The two major issues Klassen explores are tensions between feminist and 
traditionalist understandings of the meaningfulness of childbirth and how 
agency "may be afforded to or denied women as they derive religious meanings 
from childbirth" (4). While she respects the women's narratives, and presents 
each sympathetically, Klassen is not uncritical. For instance, relying upon work 
in religion, anthropology, and feminist theory, she contests their understand- 
ing of home birth as natural. 
After an introductory chapter explaining her theoretical approach and her 
method of selecting and interviewing the women, the second chapter explains 
what it means for relatively privileged North American women to home-birth. 
She discusses the history of changing childbirth practices in North America, 
and the social, legal, and financial repercussions faced by women who choose 
to home-birth. 
The next chapter takes on the controversy over the safety of home- 
birthing, and debates about whether it involves self-sacrifice or selfishness on 
the of women. Klassen shows us how risk is conceived differently by 
advocates and critics of home birth, before moving on to an analysis of how 
religion and spirituality are involved in women's interpretations of their 
birthing experiences. In this chapter, Klassen both explains and contests the 
distinction between religion and spirituality in scholarship and in popular 
discourse. The next three chapters analyze the meaning home-birthingwomen 
give to their homes, their bodies, and their pain. For instance, the women view 
Journal oftbe Association for Research on Mothering 1 197 
Book Reviews 
their bodies as animals, machines, and sources of spiritual power. Pain is seen 
as uncontrollable, intermixed with pleasure, something to be endured, some- 
thing that can be overcome, and a source of enlightenment. Klassen is careful 
to explore both the potentially harmful and the potentially liberating ways 
home-birthing women make sense of their childbirth experiences. The final 
chapter explores the political significance ofwomen's choices about childbirth. 
BlessedEvents will appeal most to those in the alternative birth movement, 
but it will be of interest to anyone committed to exploring female embodied 
experience, as well as those interested in relations between religion and 
spirituality. While the interviews themselves are intriguing and Klassen writes 
clearly, the bookis sophisticated theoretically and will be most fully appreciated 
by those fascinated by how the experiences of home-birthing women both 
reflect and shape politics, culture, and religion. 
Mothering Daughters: 
Novels and the Politics of Family Romance, 
Francis Burney to Jane Austen 
Greenfield, Susan. 
Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2002. 
Reviewed by Bonnie A. Nelson 
In Mothering Daughters, Susan Greenfield offers illuminating interpretations 
of Evelina, The Italian, Wrongs of Woman, Belinda, Adeline Mowbray, and 
Emma and argues that these early novels emphasize "the centrality of mother- 
child attachment and ultimate separation that psychoanalysis inherited" (20). 
She also explores such topics as breastfeeding debates, women's rights to child 
custody, and "the role of maternity in colonial and abolitionist discourses" (14). 
Greenfield connects the great resemblance of Evelina to her mother with 
the historical question of legitimacy. "The father has the lawful right to name 
the daughter, but the mother's imprint proves a more reliable record of 
marriage, kinship, and legitimacy" (37). Greenfield includes a fascinating 
discussion of "imaginationist" theories which erroneously "suggested that a 
mother's imagination and desire affected her child in utero, primarily in 
negative ways" (48). Burney, Greenfield argues, turns such theories upside 
down when Evelina, "through her uncanny resemblance to her mother . . . is 
able to correct the injustices perpetrated against both of them" (42). 
In "GothicMothers and Homoerotic Desire," Greenfield offers apsycho- 
analytic reading of The Italian, a work she believes "linger[s] on the daughter's 
physical desire for her parent" (57). Using the term "homoerotic" rather than 
198 1 Volume 5, Number 2 


Blessed Events: Religion and Home Birth in America

Halliday, Christina

Dancing the "True Story"

Payette, Patricia R.

Book Reviews 
it to be or the way that it had always been. But I surely wouldn't have made it 
any other way. Or  had it any other way, either." 
Geoffrey Norman takes the reader on a spiritual and physical struggle up 
Aconcagua, one of the highest mountain peaks in the world. He  describes the 
events leading up to this mid-life adventure (he has just turned SO), takes us 
back over a series of glimpses of his life as a father, and then carries us up the 
mountain as ifwe are watching though a camera mounted on his shoulder. His 
daughter walks alongside him, rising to the challenge of the climb while 
Norman struggles, realizing at some point that he, in fact, may not make the 
summit. His daughter may succeed where he might fail, and at that moment 
she is no longer his little girl. The child becomes the leader, challenging the 
parent to succeed. 
The mountain is a metaphor for parenting - a laborious and joyous 
experience that changes over time. When he realizes that he may not make the 
summit, Norman decides to talk to his daughter: "The kind of talk that you have 
a lot, but never get used to having, I suppose, when you are a dad. The kind 
where you say things that have to be said but that you wish you didn't have to 
talkabout. I decided, as I had many times, to put the talkoffas long as possible." 
I waited for Norman to share his thoughts on parenting and middle age. 
In fact, he put offthe talk, both with his daughter and with the reader. I waited 
to read about his deep feelings for his daughter but he never articulated them. 
Nonetheless, I believe Norman descended the mountain a changed man, 
changed in spirit and in his connection to his daughter. I wanted Norman to 
describe these changes. Unfortunately, it is as if Norman's whole story has not 
been told. 
The Big Rumpus: 
A Mother's Tale from the Trenches 
Halliday, Ayun. 
Seattle: Seal Press, 2002. 
Reviewed by Patricia R. Payette 
Ayun Halliday has been called a new generation's urban Erma Bombeck. 
Writing from her family's tiny Brooklyn apartment, Halliday demonstrates a 
Bombeckesque dry humour for reporting the absurd and hilarious everyday 
details of raising children. The Big Rumpus grew out of Halliday's pen-and-ink 
photocopied 'zine called the East Village Inky that she describes as "an 
anticorporate, consciousness-raising, feminist call to arms," actually a cleverly 
disguised collection ofamusingrants, raves, andlovingly-drawn cartoons about 
the minute details of her family life and their colourful adventures in the East 
Village. 
192 / Volume 5, Number 2 
Book Reviews 
Inky is the nickname of Halliday's four-year-old daughter India, a sylph- 
like creature whose love of being unclothed makes her appear destined to take 
after her mother, a former performance artist. With impish Inky and her baby 
boy Milo, Halliday struggles in the motherhood trenches, determined to be 
true to herself while she raises kids in the "culinary and cultural diaspora" of 
New York, a city that she embraces as the anithesis of the soul-deadening 
suburbs of her Midwestern childhood. Halliday is a stay-at-home mom while 
her husband temps at Citibank, and she finds the only way to fight off the 
"isolation and despair" of her radical new lifestyle is to create a 'zine that gives 
full expression to her mothering self and her artist self. The Big Rumpus gives 
her room to elaborate on the topics covered in her 'zine - taking a stand in the 
worhng mothers versus stay-at-home mothers debate (she concludes that we 
each must do what works for us), reliving the adventures of breastfeeding Inky 
into late toddlerhood, discussing how she fights the commercialization of the 
holidays, and why she convinced her husband not to have their son circumsized. 
Throughout The Big Rumpus, Halliday is insightful, funny, and candid 
about what she perceives as her strengths (she dresses Milo in Inky's hand-me- 
downs despite the disapproval of other playground mothers) and foibles as a 
parent (Inky swears like a sailor). I felt my own feelings about the challenges of 
motherhood validated when Halliday confesses, "the baby had me in such a 
choke hold that I felt nostalgic for the days when mopping the floor didn't 
require hours of strategic preparation." What Halhday expertly avoids is sweet 
sentimentality and the cliches that abound in other tales about becoming a 
mother. Even her soul-baring report of Inky's first two weeks spent in the 
Neonatal Intensive Care Unit and her love letter to Milo at the book's 
conclusion crackle with her quick wit. "Nobody wants to read about a perfect 
mother," writes Halliday, and so The Big Rumpus, like the East Village Inky 
before it, is a highly readable account of an imperfectly real mother. 
The Politics of Fertility Control 
McFarlane, Deborah R., and Kenneth J. Meier. 
New York: Chatham House Publishers. 
Reviewed by Sandra Jarvie 
In The Politics of Fertility Control, McFarlane and Meier examine what "looms 
behind abortion policies" and review the politics of fertility control in the 
United States over the past thirty years. Convinced that nearly all induced 
abortions are preventable by effective contraception, McFarlane and Meier 
suggest "that abortion politics are part of a larger political struggle aboutvalues" 
which they term "morality politics." 
Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering 1 193 
