You’ll see a lot of reviews likening Ashley Audrain’s debut novel The Push to Lionel Shriver’s unforgettable We Need To Talk About Kevin. ‘To be compared to that book and Lionel Shriver’s writing I’m not worthy of that…’ says Canadian Ashley. ‘I have this nightmare one day she’ll be like, “Ok, let’s see what the fuss is about” and pick it up and read it…’
The plot makes comparison understandable: Blythe Connor comes from a line of women who’ve struggled with motherhood and she’s determined to be different. But when her daughter Violet is born, and the usual newborn difficulties abate, Blythe senses something is wrong with the girl. Her husband Fox dismisses her. Then something horrendous and tragic happens, the couple are forced to face who their daughter is.
Amongst many things the book, says Ashley, is about ‘what happens when we silence women’s truths and don’t believe women and what that can do to a person – to feel like they’re not heard and believed and their experience doesn’t matter or exist. Especially when that’s a traumatic experience.’
But Violet is not Kevin, and perhaps it says more about the lack of books examining the complexity of motherhood that the two are being compared nearly 18 years apart. ‘We live in this age where in a way there are a lot of more honest conversations about motherhood than there ever have been,’ says Ashley. ‘But at the same time there does seem to be these limitations to what people are willing to talk about and accept. The more we open up, the more we’re protecting and curating what we’re sharing.’
And while the turn The Push takes is dramatic, much of that internal and raw honesty is relatable. Perhaps because Ashley – who previously herself worked in publishing – started writing the book when her first son was six months old. ‘When he was born he had some health challenges we didn’t expect, so motherhood looked very different to what I expected. I was learning how to be a mother in the walls of a children’s hospital,’ she says. ‘I loved him dearly from the moment he was born, but you can love a child dearly and also have a hard experience.’
The knife-edge between relatability and horror keeps the reader hooked. ‘It does feel realistic because you could see how it could happen – it’s not a dystopian world,’ she says. ‘There’s so much ambiguity and grey area in the book and I think that’s just reflective of life. We don’t really know who our kids are, ultimately they’re their own people who are going to reveal themselves to you as they grow. And that is wonderful, but terrifying in the same breath.’
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