The Nursery

January 16, 2023
Molnar’s entrancing debut captures the volatile inner life of a woman with postpartum depression. The narrator, a literary translator, feels isolated while caring for her baby girl, Button, and, as her days blur into each other, she has a hard time seeing herself as more than a “milk bar,” and her mind frequently reverts to thoughts of hurting Button. Molnar braids the narrator’s gloomy reflections on motherhood (“Women have done this before me and nothing changed. And women will do this after me”) with accounts of visits from an elderly neighbor who is mourning the death of his wife, and interactions with her husband, John. In one of the most powerful passages, the narrator studies John and finds him completely unchanged while her body has been torn apart, her career put on hold, and her time fully dedicated to raising her daughter. Though it’s unclear how some of the pieces are meant to fit, such as the visits from the neighbor, Molnar brings a cutting verisimilitude to her portrayal of the narrator’s fuzzy state of mind, and she’s equally unsparing with her vivid descriptions of childbirth, recovery, and the physical demands of early motherhood. It amounts to a powerful look at what a new mother endures. Agent: Kate Johnson, Wolf Literary.

February 1, 2023
An overwhelmed new mother vents. The mood in this debut novel is claustrophobic, and no wonder, since the unnamed narrator refuses to leave her apartment, much to the chagrin of her supportive but increasingly concerned and frustrated husband, John. She won't even go to the first two checkups for their daughter, Button--well, that's not her real name, the woman informs us: "The baby I hold in my arms is a leech, let's call her Button." Molnar grittily conjures the exhaustion and disorientation of the first weeks with a first child in a narration that voices furious resentment of Button's insatiable demands and some scary thoughts about harming her. John's cheerful acceptance of their new routine is easy for him, she bitterly muses; he gets to go to the office and sleep through the night while she gets up to nurse yet again. Miffo (the narrator's name for her floundering postpartum self) lost her own mother as a girl and painfully feels the lack of a maternal role model; John and well-meaning friends try to help, but she pushes them all away, becalmed in severe depression. Only an elderly upstairs neighbor, who initially knocks on her door to complain about the baby crying, becomes an odd sort of confidant, and then dies. Wistful memories of time with John "before" and of her work as a translator, when "I could choose between this word or that [and] linger in silence," will strike a chord with anyone who remembers the difficult adjustment to life ruled by someone else's needs, but Miffo seems never to experience the moments of joy that, for most new parents, at least occasionally alleviate the equally powerful exhaustion, anger, and sorrow. She strikes one dreary note throughout, and by the time she finally emerges from her depression and steps outdoors, readers may well be very tired of her. Commendably honest but not compelling fiction.

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February 1, 2023

DEBUT The unnamed narrator in literary agent Molnar's debut novel is an in-demand translator happily married to the supportive, loving John and eagerly awaiting the birth of their daughter, affectionately called Button. Then the narrator switches from blissful anticipation of Button's birth to shock at childbirth's assault on every intimate part of her body and mind, which plunges her into a dangerous downward spiral of exhaustion, pain, and depression. John, who is ineffective in addressing the severity of his wife's distress, returns to work, and their upstairs neighbor, a frail older man named Peter, steps in to help. As the narrative alternates between events before and after Button's birth, the narrator's unwanted thoughts of harming Button increase, and John's inability to take decisive action imperils this little family. VERDICT Molnar offers a harrowing cautionary tale about postpartum depression and the terror it can cause as it strips away any sense of control over mind and body. Some descriptions are so raw and graphic that one almost wants to read them with eyes half-closed. An important, unromanticized look at the instant, drastic changes new motherhood can bring, though a caveat: it does not address the relief that early medical intervention can provide.--Beth E. Andersen

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