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

About the Front Cover

Scott, Jill

Jill Scott 
liquid wisdom 
baby birth me, 
midwife my soul. 
mother me, 
smother me, 
bathe me 
with your glow 
radiant light rages 
from my womb in 
echoes, rippling 
on your pond 
of love 
your liquid wisdom 
permeates 
my very pores and 
seeps under my skin 
like rich nourishing 
nectar. 
your sagesse 
lines my womb 
and you swim me to the 
deep 
of an ocean floor. 
reeling, dizzy with 
vertigo 
a struggle to maintain 
equilibrium 
under your tow 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering 1 157 
JiIl Scoff 
"let go! let go!" 
you say 
"wave motion 
is your anchor 
not your woe." 
vanquished, 
my body cedes 
to your delicious flow, 
heeds your wishes 
and i am washed 
crystal crisp 
in your splash 
water rushing, gushing 
in reckless abandon. 
this frolic initiates me 
to your rhythmic tune. 
a hasty 
pas de deux, 
is choreographed 
in your surf. 
you be my lead - 
wet and dripping - 
i follow as you go. 
baby, 
you rare beauty! 
partner me 
dance me 
midwife my soul. 
for you, baby - j.s. 
01.05.02 
158 1 Volume S, Number l 


English

liquid wisdom

Editorial Masthead

Nemzoff, Ruth

Ruth Nemzoff 
Mothering in Academia 
My one-year-old peed on the floor 
My seven-year-old threw-up in the car 
My nine-year-old has chicken pox 
And I wonder 
"Why can't I write my thesis?" 
20 / Volume 5, Number 2 


Mothering in Academia

Contributor Notes

Gustafson, Diana L.

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 
Book Reviews 
stories of five single mothers whose families are not broken but function 
successfully to meet the needs of parent and child. 
The purpose of the book is to deconstruct the image of the brokcn home 
by using constructivist, feminist critical theory to interpret the social context in 
which single mothers restructure family life and offer "a new action theory of 
resistance and change" (6). Wendy Paterson uses a phenomenological case 
study approach to collect and interpret data about five financially secure, well- 
educated, professional women (four white women, one black woman). Al- 
though these narratives do not represent "every woman's story" (17), they serve 
as a counterpoint to existing literature about single mothers who face the 
challenges of poverty, lack of education, and other social inequalities. 
There are three reasons I believe this book is particularly suited to an 
undergraduate audience in sociology, psychology, and women's studies. First, 
stories about more privileged women add complexity to the meta-narrative of 
single-mother families. Although Paterson uses the tired metaphor of the story 
quilt, the narratives are richly descriptive of the histories and experiences of 
parenting and family life before and after divorce. The voices of Judith, 
Kathleen, Shawna, Lyn, and Sarah are heard clearly in extensive quotes drawn 
from interviews. While this technique adds considerably to the length of the 
book (409 pages including references and index), the text is well organized and 
written in accessible language. 
Second, I recommend this book for its literature review. Entitled "What 
is Family? Mothering, Fathering and Being Single," the second chapter 
introduces the prevailing myths of family life. The survey continues with the 
main theories that have shaped Western thinking about families, with specific 
attention to the gendered division of family roles, parenting labour, family 
relationships, and divorce law in America. 
Given the strengths and ambition of this book, I am disappointed that 
Paterson does not analyze her findings through the promised feminist critical 
lens. Feminist critical analysis assumes the interconnectedness ofgender, race, 
class, and other systemic oppressions (Giroux, 1997). Instead, Paterson uses 
gender as a singular and uncomplicated category to explicate issues such as guilt 
and independence. A feminist critical analysis would have exposed the relative 
homogeneity of the participants and revealed more explicitly how they use their 
social location as a valuable resource (Harris, 1993) in negotiating their lives 
afier divorce. Instead, Paterson claims "the only common denominator for these 
five families is d@erence" [emphasis in original], pointing to the differences in 
personality, individual motivation, and child-rearing practices (358). In these 
ways, Paterson's approach is more typical of liberal feminism than critical 
feminism. I am not suggesting, however, that race and class go unmentioned. 
Paterson acknowledges the power of social location in shaping women's 
experiences. This is the reason she studies "mainstream mothers whose 
priorities are not focused on fighting poverty to survive" (85). Yet, the analysis 
fails to examine in a sustained and comprehensive way how class privilege 
184 1 Volume S, Number 2 
Book Reviews 
modifies these women's experiences. The same may be said of Paterson's way 
oflooking at race. When analyzing Shawna's story, Paterson draws on literature 
about black families to discuss the way race shapes the experiences of the only 
woman of colour in her study. By contrast, race is not used to explore the relative 
privilege enjoyed by white participants, as I would expect in feminist critical 
analysis. 
While Paterson demonstrates reflexivity, another key element of feminist 
critical analysis, by acknowledging that her interpretation of the findings 
emerges from her own ideologies and values, she does not reflect critically on 
the ways that her location as a white, middle-class, professional woman shape 
her interpretation of the data. Paterson mobilizes a white, middle-class 
subjectivity that focuses on individual characteristics, decision-making, and 
interpersonal relations without examining how race and class privilege organize 
the qualitatively different experiences of women in her study group. 
The challenge to the stereotypic image of the broken home lead by less 
privileged single mothers is made possible by holding out the image of the 
unbroken home lead by more privileged single mothers. While the intention is 
to erase the linkbetween deviance and single-mothering, the outcome (whether 
intended or not) is to distance more privileged women from this negative 
association. This move entrenches rather than challenges the raced, classed, 
and gendered construction of motherhood and leaves single mothers to 
compete with each other on the "margins of'respectable' motherhood (Fumia, 
1999: 90). 
While I argue this book evades the feminist critical analysis that it intends, 
its conclusions and agenda for change may serve as valuable resources for an 
undergraduate audience. This brings me to the third reason I recommend this 
book. In keeping with Paterson's conclusions, the recommendations for change 
are broadly stated, liberal entreaties to recognize the diversity offamilies and the 
individuals that emerge from them. A professor with a firm grounding in 
critical feminist theory may revisit these data with students and help them 
examine the power of white, middle-class subjectivity to construct normalcy 
and deviance in knowledge about mothering. Students would learn fiom and 
build upon Paterson's quality data to develop a more complex understanding 
of how gender is articulated through race and class to shape the experiences of 
single mothers and their families. 
References 
Fumia, Doreen. (1999). "Marginalized Motherhood and the Mother-Lesbian 
Subject." Journalof the Associationfor Research on Mothering 1 (1): 86-95. 
Giroux, Henry A. (1997). Rewriting the Discourse of Racial Identity: Towards 
a Pedagogy and Politics of Whiteness." Harvard Educational Review 67 
(2): 285-320. 
Harris, Cheryl I. (1993). 'Whiteness as Property." HarvardLaw Review 106 
(8):  1707-1791. 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering / 185 


Unbroken Homes: Single-Parent Mothers Tell Their Stories

Abbey, Sharon M.

Deconstructing Images of Mothering in Media and Film: Possibilities and Trends for the Future

Ramone, Jenni

book reviews
 journal of the motherhood initiative             297 
Mommy,” Darcy Mayers describes how she “collared” her children, scared 
them, and wanted them to be scared. She asks readers not to judge her ac-
tions, but her tale of physical and emotional abuse is disturbing. “The Pink 
Post-It Umbrella” by Devorah Lifshutz is also troubling. As she recalls how 
she smashes her son’s favourite toy, “sandwiches” his body between a wall and 
table, and “braces” her hands around his neck, she seems like a mother on the 
verge of a nervous breakdown. These narratives would be more appropriately 
placed in a volume that explores maternal stress and frustration. 
Regrettably, Walravens also includes several essays that do not relate to the 
theme of the collection. For example, in one narrative the speaker laments 
her decision to divorce her husband because she worries about maintaining 
her middle-class lifestyle. In another tale, a woman gives details of visiting a 
food bank and the bureaucracy of the immigration system. The serious issues 
raised in these essays—economic dependence on men, discrimination, and 
poverty—are not addressed in terms of motherhood. 
Torn offers many tales from well-educated, successful, and professional 
women who have the opportunity to decide between staying home to raise 
their children or pursuing their careers. Unfortunately, the voices of less ad-
vantaged mothers who grapple with other factors (i.e., depression, breastfeed-
ing, premature children), and come from various backgrounds (i.e., lesbian 
mothers, othermothers, transnational mothers) are not heard in this volume. 
Without this diversity, the book becomes another text geared at privileged 
women who have the opportunity and the means to “opt out” of their careers.
Textual Mothers / Maternal Texts: 
Motherhood in Contemporary Women’s Literatures
Elizabeth Podnieks and Andrea O’Reilly, eds.
Waterloo, on: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2010.
Reviewed by Jenni Ramone
This far-reaching collection of essays is committed to revealing mothers’ sto-
ries while establishing firm connections between the fields of Motherhood 
Studies and Literary Studies. The collection reaffirms a key aim of Mother-
hood Studies: to create an empowering practice and theory of mothering 
for women, countering the patriarchal master-narrative of motherhood that 
maintains notions of the ideal mother and the dangerous binary of good/bad 
mothering.
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book reviews
298             volume 2,  number 2
In these essays the study of maternal texts is always informed by the practice 
of mothering. One example is Elizabeth Beaulieu’s analysis of Rita Dove’s po-
etry of maternal ambivalence, far from the socially acceptable representation 
of motherhood as selfless yet satisfying. The analysis is framed by an honest 
discussion of the author’s personal response to the poetry, which changed 
once she herself became a mother. This is characteristic of the volume as 
a whole: rigorous academic discussion is framed by a practical engagement 
with the social, cultural, legal, and psychological impact and significance of 
mothering.
The collection addresses many kinds of stories, ranging from well known 
literary texts—works by Margaret Atwood and Jamaica Kincaid—recent 
bestsellers—Lionel Shriver’s We Need to Talk about Kevin—poetry—Sharon 
Olds’s verse on mothering and sexuality—published memoirs, and birth sto-
ries posted online. The essays are held together by the contributors’ common 
commitment to overturn the dominant critical engagement with daughter-
centric stories, to reveal instead the mother’s voice. This is done either by 
privileging the many recently published matrifocal stories—stories where the 
role of mother is central—or by bringing a matrifocal perspective to stories 
of mothers and children, and acknowledging the role of mother as culturally 
significant and of social value. 
The four sections of this collection refer to the lived reality of motherhood. 
The essays consider absence (mothers who are missing or abusive), ambiva-
lence (a common aspect of mothering), agency (temporal and geographical 
shifts in the power of mothers, i.e., lesbian mothers’ legal rights in specific 
locations), and communication (why and how women talk about their experi-
ences of labour and birth, and discussions of mothering in postcolonial and 
diasporic contexts).
Although the contributors come from various disciplines, the collection 
is coherent and the maternal voice is heard clearly. Postcolonial, postmod-
ern, psychoanalytical, and gender theories are addressed, but feminism—not 
surprisingly—is the dominant discourse. Feminist theory is problematized 
in interesting and accessible ways in both the editors’ introduction and in 
numerous essays, and the argument that feminism and mothering are some-
times antagonistic, sometimes supportive, helps to justify the need to study 
motherhood as a distinct field of enquiry. The collection offers genuinely 
new perspectives on a number of texts frequently studied and researched, 
but, more importantly, it brings together lesser-known texts and new media 
to inform and promote Motherhood Studies and the teaching and ongoing 
research into texts of all kinds by and about “mothering, motherhood and 
being mothered” (1).


Textual Mothers/Maternal Texts: Motherhood in Contemporary Women's Literature

Norman, Renee

Renee Norman 
Travel 
It hardly seemed worth all the bother, but still she checked the time when she 
woke, tired from another night ofwakeful, thought-full sleep, and insisted that 
they all rise, dress appropriately and hurry down to another rushed, cold-cereal 
breakfast. 
Rushed so they would be ready in good time: teeth brushed, hair brushed, 
lunches in hand, boots and raincoats donned, umbrellas open, rushing down 
the driveway past two perfectly presentable and working vehicles to walk the 
path in a relentless downpour. 
Hurry up, please, girls! Why don't you wear pants, it's raining heavily? 
Oh, do we have to? I hate wearing pants. I want to wear a dress. 
Fine, but you'll have to wear tights. 
Oh, I hate putting tights on! Will you do it for me? 
No, I hate putting tights on, too, and I have to do the baby's. 
She's not a baby anymore, you know. 
She is to me and so are you. 
Then put my tights on, too! 
Ha! Clever! You can always wear pants like I suggested, you know. 
See you downstairs in five minutes flat, dressed, please. 
I don't know why we have to walk, anyway, nobody else does, it's dumb, 
and look at all that dumb rain. 
At first such protests by the children had been vociferous and relentless on 
the wettest days. They were tired, they protested, couldn't they just be driven 
to school, there wasn't enough time to play before it was time to leave, and so 
on... 
104 1 Volume 5, Number l 
But she persisted, driven by some unconscious need to prove to them that 
there was another way to travel, that there was a whole life outside that they 
would never know about if they didn't walk it, see it close up, feel it in the wet 
downpour which threatened to soak them through their nylon coats and 
umbrellas. 
The sunny days were never a problem. It was easier to wake in the sun-filled 
rooms and the children were eager to slip light shoes on their feet and bask in 
the comforting sunlight which countered even the most biting cold or wind. 
Those days they counted themselves lucky to rush past the neighbouring houses 
on the crescent, up the walkway to the stairs which led to the path in the 
woods-with thick, dense forest brush on one side, where bears were some- 
times known to come foraging for food, and polite, clean-looking townhouses 
uniformly arranged on the other side. Leaving those townhouses far behind, 
they followed the trampled weeds of their favorite shortcut through the woods, 
the surrounding brush lush with pussywdlows and hot pink salmonberry 
flowers in early spring. Through this forest trail they would walk, eventually 
scaling a rocky, earth-filled hill which led them to the pedestrian light across 
a busy street, continuing up another hill where they breathed and coughed and 
sputtered in the exhaust fumes of cars speeding by much too fast. Then they 
turned past the corner gas station and car wash--which always halted their 
journey if there was a car being washed. They loved watching the large blue 
mops spitting soap suds and water in a wet dog-haired spun fienzy. Up the 
parking lot of a large apartment building they would continue, where they had 
to be cautious of the occasional car bursting unseen out of the cave ofthe under- 
ground garage. Then they strode across the church parking lot where the pre- 
school teacher's maroon van was always parked, up one final street of newish, 
pink-stuccoed houses. Finally, they picked their way through the gravel-filled 
schoolmade walkway between a canopy of overgrown undergrowth and across 
the top field of the schoolground to their ultimate destination. 
They had discovered much on these foot adventures, which she felt certain 
they would have missed if they joined the others barrelling past (often waving 
to them or offering them a ride which they declined) in familiar, popular cars. 
They now knew the names of many colorful flowers, found earthworms and 
snails and odd-shaped rocks. They lunged for and fought over lucky pennies, 
or nickels, and once, a quarter. They had taken home for washing the lost 
bounty of dropped childhood treasures: pretty hair barrettes, small, flat plastic 
dolls once part of some dollhouse or other, a small, red-striped doll dress, and 
other finds. 
Look, Mommy! I found a lucky penny! That's the third one I've found so far. 
I'll give it to you, Mommy, for all of us to share, but you 
keep it in your pocket and don't take it out ever, all right? 
A little plastic doll! Can I take it home and keep it, please, please? 
Journal ofthe Association for Research on Mothering / 105 
Renee Norman 
I'II make little clothes for it out of construction paper and a kleenex 
bed, and can I maybe use a washcloth, too, Mommy? Oh, isn't she sweet? 
If you look really carefully, you can see she has little eyes under all the dirt. 
No, you can't have it just because you're the youngest, right, Mommy? 
I found it. Finders, keepers, losers, weepers. Oh, stop crying, I'II 
let you have a turn, but not until I have first, okay? 
So it began that eventually when they reached their destination, whether 
their journey had been smoothly sun-warmed or intrepidly rain-pelted or even 
beautifully snow-drifted, they felt some inner sense of accomplishment, 
confirmed by the satisfied looks on their faces, the refusal to even consider some 
alternative mode of transport, the disappointment when occasional illness 
prevented them from setting out upon their daily adventure. 
One gray mist-enshrouded morning, she woke with a sense offoreboding, 
a presentiment that no matter what, she should change the rules and not allow 
any departure by foot, and she quietly mentioned this to the children. 
I think we should consider scrapping our walk today, and just go by car. 
The noisy protests weakened any resolve arising out of her inexplicable 
fears. 
That's not fair! You said we had to walk, no matter what the weather. 
We want to do it, we'll just take umbrellas. You're the one who always 
says not to back down from things when they seem a little hard. We 
like to walk, it's fun. 
"All right then," she replied, defenceless against their righteous onslaught. 
"Dress quickly, and come down for breakfast." 
But as she poured that morning's choice of dry cereal into brightly coloured 
plastic bowls, she could not shake the feeling that there was something terribly 
wrong, that she should just insist they all stay home. 
By the time everyone assembled for their usual cold-touched, warm- 
voiced morning meal, she felt she was powerless to prevent the day from 
proceeding as usual, just as she had implemented and structured it not so long 
ago, following instincts that at the time had been strong in her and true. 
As they trooped up the street to the walkway which led to the forest, 
chattering happily about the purple and white crocuses, warning each other 
boisterously to avoid the dog poo, she tried to shake off the sense of doom and 
gloom which was so strong it was a presence walking nonchalantly right along 
with her family, sidestepping the dog droppings. 
Everything seemed normal. It was another rain-encased day, and their 
colorful, closely held array of umbrellas accidentally bumped and brushed the 
106 1 Volume 5, Number l 
Travel 
water off the hanging branches of cherry blossom trees. The umbrellas seemed 
like little colored parachute-shaped bumper cars driving haphazardly up the 
roadway of plants and flowers that lined their course. 
By the time they scaled the walkway stairs and arrived at the foot of the 
woods, her breathing was quick and panich, and the force of the rain seemed 
to quickenwith each new puffand pant. She scrutinized the woods through the 
raindrops blinding her view, dripping off her glasses. A wind blew up, and they 
all concentrated on holding on to the blowing umbrellas. The pelt of the rain 
intensified, and her children giggled, delighting in being blown along by the 
wind and rain. 
Look, Mommy, my umbrella's turning inside outside and I can hardly hold it 
any- 
A strong gust carried the ruined umbrella off, and the cries of delight 
changed to dismay, and tears. 
Oh, no! Oh, no! It's blowing away! 
Before she could even bend to console that disappearing umbrella's small 
owner, or offer the shelter of her own apparatus, the rest of all their umbrellas 
flipped their spokes upward like crazed flowering creatures, and an even 
stronger gust blew them off, one, two, three ... 
Now all of the children were crying, and getting very much wetter with the 
force of the buffeting wind and the pounding downpour. She quickly decided 
they should turn around and head for home, as they were all far too drenched 
to even consider completing the walk to school, and this time there were no 
noisy protests at her suggestion. But they could not find the walkway stairs, 
even though they hadjust entered the woods up those stairs only moments ago. 
Panicked, she tried to seem calm, so as not to alarm the children, but they 
immediately sensed her concern and pinpointed its cause. 
Mommy, where's the walkway? It should be here, shouldn't it? 
It doesn't quite look the same. How will we get home? 
She quickly allayed their fears, fighting her own rising sense of dismay, 
saying that theywould simply find another way out ofthe woods, up by the end 
of the path toward the pedestrian light. 
She turned and guided her small troop towards the direction of the busy 
street which signalled the end of the footworn path in the woods. They briskly 
quickened their pace in anticipation ofthe sight ofthe cars speeding by the road 
as seen through the spaces in the overhanging tree branches. 
They marched on, wet and disheartened by the ceaseless rain andwind, the 
children soaked through and cryrng loudly now, and she knew that they should 
Journal oftbe Association for Research on Mothering / 107 
Renee Norman 
have reached that light by now, were walking on and on far too long, but said 
nothing, silent and growing more alarmed. 
The children's wails grew louder, longer, siren-like, blending into one long 
sustained minor note whose sound was held by a foot on a loud pedal, an eerie, 
other-worldly sound in the pummelling rain of the forest. Suddenly the 
children's forms rose in the air like their blown-away umbrellas, and coats flying 
up like the fabric on the upside-down spokes of those broken umbrellas, their 
small bodies drifted upward. 
Horrified, she stood frozen for several seconds, rooted to the ground like 
one ofthe old trees ofthe forest, watching dazed as her children seemed to float 
away. A flood of energy surged through her, maternal instinct maneuvering her 
into motion, and she desperately clutched at the little feet rising higher and 
higher in the air. With that chorus of high-pitched cries ringing unmistakably 
in her ears, she clawed at air, and her hands sliced through no substance at all, 
the children a hallucinatory vision of small legs and flapping coats and waving 
arms, dear little balloon faces recognizable from within the centre of each 
wafting image. As suddenly as their ascent began, the children's forms (or, what 
she had believed to be the children) disappeared from view, the caterwauling 
wails winding down to one last despondent note cut off in mid-stream. 
The rain stopped abruptly. Agreat silence punctuated the forest floor with 
its exclamation ofpossibility. The sun shone through the leaves ofthe dripping 
tree branches. Puffs of rising, smoky drying air rose from flattened treetrunk 
stumps scattered here and there throughout the woods. She felt warmed by the 
sun filtering through the foliage. 
I t  was then that she began to understand, and feeling relieved that the 
children were actually quite safe, warm, and dry, knowing that the ordinary 
morning ministrations were very likely being continued right at this very 
moment somehow, she relaxed somewhat and began to enjoy being by herself 
in the woods. 
Soon her clothes began to feel less sopping wet and simply cool and soft 
upon her skin. She breathed in the worm-scented, pinecone air and closed her 
eyes, standing quite still for a few seconds, contemplating. 
She sensed that her next move when she opened her eyes would bring her 
to some trail which led out of the woods, but stalling, she delayed, and instead, 
lifted her face, eyes still closed, to feel the warming air lick her face. 
When she opened her eyes at last, she was not the least surprised to see the 
concrete walkway stairs, full of small puddles leftover from the downpour. She 
lingered for a minute longer, secure in the thought that these sturdy stairs 
descended to the walkway and eventually would lead her home when she was 
ready. She perceived that theywould be there even if not in fullview, even if she 
chose to descend them later, even if she decided to explore on her own some 
more and stroll in the forest. 
Feeling confident, alive, and very much in control of herself, she walked 
past the walkway stairs in another direction, towards the deepest growth of the 
108 1 Volume 5, Number 1 
Travel 
forest, eschewing the pedestrian light and busy street which was at the opposite 
end of the woods' path. Delighting in this unexpected turn of events, she 
continued her travel, walking, seeing a whole outdoor life close up, feeling it 
with her clearheaded senses, relishing her solitude. She did not even look 
backwards once at the vanishing walkway, knowing she could find it again 
easily when it was time, understanding and accepting her own adventure in 
time, her earlier sense of fear and foreboding evaporating as hastily as the rain 
had stopped. 
In the distance several small umbrellas lay turned inside out, ruined, their 
parachute colors streaked with ribbons of still-wet material. 
Journal  the Association for Research on Mothering 1 109 


Travel

Greenberg, Rivka

Book Reviews 
chance of achieving a live birth through IVF and a 50 to 80 percent chance of 
experiencing a miscarriage. 
Based on her findings, Hewlett urges young women to take charge oftheir 
fertility, to focus on finding an appropriate (male) mate in their twenties, and 
to choose a career path that allows for children (academia has one of the worst 
track records for supporting motherhood). Furthermore, Hewlett offers the 
following suggestions: create a national timebank of three-months paid paren- 
tal leave; restructure retirement plans so they do not penalize workers for career 
breaks; offer three years of unpaid, job-protected leave. 
When I first heard the media coverage of Hewlett's findings, I interpreted 
it as more backlash to women's career success. The truth is, however, that it is 
difficult to combine a career and motherhood. Hewlett's book, then, can be 
seen as a call to action rather than a slap in the face. The discrimination that 
mothers face in the workplace affects all women. What is needed, in fact, is a 
workplace that allows all women to participate equally. 
In the end, Hewlett writes that the "truth will set us free." I would argue, 
however, that both Hewlett and her critics have missed an opportunity to 
promote real change. While Hewlett is motivated by a desire for social change, 
she envisions a return to traditional values where women are defined by their 
ability or inability to have children, and heterosexual marriage and nuclear 
families are seen as the "best" environments in which to raise children. There 
are many truths that Hewlett leaves out of her book, including the effects of 
divorce on women's careers and the benefits of alternative parenting and family 
structures. In the end, we must look beyond Hewlett's findings to alternative 
"truths" that could radically alter women's position in the workforce. 
With Humor and Hope: 
Learning from Our Mothers' Depression and 
Alcoholism 
Peets, Christine. 
Victoria: Trafford, 2001. 
Reviewed by Rivka Greenberg 
In Wth HumorandHope: Learningj?om OurMothersJDepression andAZcohoZism, 
Christine Peets addresses two problems that d i c t  women and often are 
shrouded in silence: alcohoVsubstance abuse and depression. Only in the past 
quarter of a century have clinicians and researchers begun to acknowledge 
publicly that alcoholism and substance abuse in women are critical health and 
mental health issues that affect substantial numbers of women. While often 
intertwined, substance abuse and depression need to be diagnosed separately 
and each disease requires treatment specific to women's needs. 
206 1 Volume 5, Number l 
Book Reviews 
While these diseases affect many women, they often are not recognized 
or diagnosed, either by the suffering women or by professionals. Many women 
cannot clearly identify what is bothering them and they often do not know 
where to seekhelp so they canget the attention they require. This bookprovides 
descriptions that will aid in this identification. In fact, there is no single portrait 
of an alcoholic woman; there are many. Because of its many manifestations, 
alcoholism often is difficult to identify by others and by alcoholic women 
themselves. Even with the identification, asking for and finding help usually is 
a lonely and difficult task. The same challenges confront women who are 
clinically depressed. 
Peets uses the stories of others, as well as her own personal story of her 
mother and family. An important aspect of this book is the connection the 
author draws between her mother's alcoholism and depression and her own life. 
Across the book, Peets offers as examples the many preventive steps against 
alcoholism and depression that she has taken and will continue to take 
throughout her life. 
I congratulate Christine Peets for her honesty and courage. Writing With 
Humor and Hope clearly was cathartic for the author and the book will assist 
readers who hope to interrupt the multigenerational effects of substance abuse 
and depression in their own lives. Peets includes a selective bibliography and a 
useful list of international resources. 
Midwifery and Childbirth in America 
Rooks, Judith Pence, S. Charles, and M. D. Mahan. 
Temple Univ Press; 1999. 
Reviewed by Ruth Nemzoff 
Midwlfey and Childbirth in America is not a book to give your pregnant 
daughter to read in her spare moments. It is too comprehensive, well re- 
searched, and detailed. But it is an appropriate gift for anyone who may be 
planning to attend nursing or medical school. Rooks has written a comprehen- 
sive, balanced, and eminently readable book about midwifery and childbirth in 
America. The book provides a complete history of the accreditation, licensure, 
and education of nurse midwives and direct entry midwives. It also provides 
data on the use of midwives. Most interesting is Rooks's review of studies that 
have assessed the quality, safety, and effectiveness of midwifery in the United 
States. She notes that surprisingly few studies compare the effectiveness of 
specific interventions used by midwives and obstetricians. 
Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering ( 207 
