Hello, readers,
I have two pieces of exciting news:
I have started recommending books for The Big Thrill, a publication run by the International Thriller Writers member-based organization. This is an exciting (and perhaps fated) role for me, as my grandfather, Lee Gerbig, reviewed books for The Columbus Dispatch (all of which now line my book shelves).
Watch out for my first recommendation next month.
My friend and amazing #LCTFL writing-group partner, Brianne Sommerville’s debut thriller IF I LOSE HER launces in less than a week. So, perhaps it is fitting that I first review her book.
IF I LOSE HER is available for purchase at Target, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, and many other stores, or request it at your local library.
Read my review below and order her page-turner now!
Sisters in Motherhood, a new take on the postpartum psychological thriller
Only recently has society paid much attention to postpartum depression, perhaps because we, as parents and individuals, are more isolated now than ever before, mothers bearing almost all of the early caretaking responsibilities. Perhaps as a result, the postpartum psychological thriller is growing in popularity, with books like Ashley Audrain’s The Push, Soje Stage’s Baby Teeth, Julia Fine’s The Upstairs House, and Kyra Wilder’s Little Bandaged Days revealing the isolation of motherhood while leaning into its more horrific aspects, including questioning one’s sanity and the inherent goodness of the child.
But what if a new mother is not isolated? What if she loves her perfect baby, and her biggest problem is that she is surrounded by all-too-invested, nosey people? Brianne Sommerville’s debut psychological thriller, IF I LOSE HER (Rising Action Publishing Collective, March 2024), about a first-time mother Jo, whose baby blues turn into blackouts and delusions, evolves the postpartum narrative, exploring not only how new motherhood tends to strain both mother-child and spousal relationships, but test sibling and friend ones, as well.
Jo has always leaned on her two older sisters, Amy and Meg (all named after Little Women characters), especially since their emotionally abusive mother died tragically while Jo was still in high school. Ten years later, on the eve of their mother’s death, nothing has changed. Struggling with postpartum insomnia and a physically and emotionally distant husband, Jo relies on the stable and constant women in her life for support.
When Jo begins losing time, once not knowing how her baby ended up alone in the backyard, crying so long that Child Services got involved, she must lean on her sisters more than ever. Together, they piece together strange events happening in Jo’s house and convince not only the Child Services agent, but gossipy neighborhood mothers, Jo’s therapist, her invasive mother-in-law, and her husband that Jo is a capable mother, worthy of raising her five-month-old daughter. But even her sisters have doubts.
The oldest sibling, Amy, struggling to get pregnant herself, often resents Jo’s situation, saying at one point, “Do you realize how many women want to be mothers but can’t? How much people plan for it? You practically fell backwards into motherhood.” And Meg, with her own children, grows annoyed with Jo’s apparent weaknesses while simultaneously covering them up. Now, Jo’s familiar new-mother protests, “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m okay. I’m just tired. Another rough night of no sleep,” no longer suffice. The sisters want real answers, even if the truth throws another screw into their already complicated dynamic.
While most postpartum thrillers like the ones mentioned above veer into horror, Sommerville’s novel feels more thrillerish than its contemporaries. Though still dark—enough that Sommerville’s editor Alex Brown included a rare editor’s note to explain that, for her, “nothing is too dark”—Sommerville intersperses high tension with levity (at one point causing me to laugh out loud at a situation Jo got herself into, then needed to get out of). Her baby character is also not evil; she is perfect, an aspect that might turn away readers fearing for the child’s safety. However, I never fully feared for the baby, perhaps because the more disturbing mystery lies not with what is happening to Mom and newborn now, but with what happened with Jo’s mother when Jo and her sisters were children. As the dark past unfolds, revealing the morally ambiguous decisions the children made to escape their pain, the real danger is born elsewhere, this time among adults.
An entertaining and fast-paced read, IF I LOSE HER continues to explore essential questions of motherhood in an alienating society, asking, for example, “Why is it the female body is celebrated during pregnancy...But a month after you’ve given birth, society can’t accept what it’s become?” Yet, perhaps the more important and original questions it asks are about how we approach motherhood to begin with: How does every aspect of our childhoods—our siblings, our boyfriends, our birth order, even the color of our hair—shape our parenting and adult lives? Are we better off receiving help from “the village,” or have we evolved into a society more suited to parenting alone?
Like the ending, the answers might surprise you.