The Push: A GMA Book Club Pick: A Novel

By Ashley Audrain

A GOOD MORNING AMERICA BOOK CLUB PICK

"An intense psychological drama that will be embraced by serious book clubs and fans of Lionel Shriver's We Need to Talk about Kevin."
—Kristin Hannah, #1 New York Times bestselling author

"A poetic, propulsive read that set my nerves jangling."
—Lisa Jewell, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Then She Was Gone

A tense, page-turning psychological drama about the making and breaking of a family—and a woman whose experience of motherhood is nothing at all what she hoped for—and everything she feared

Blythe Connor is determined that she will be the warm, comforting mother to her new baby Violet that she herself never had.

But in the thick of motherhood's exhausting early days, Blythe becomes convinced that something is wrong with her daughter—she doesn't behave like most children do.

Or is it all in Blythe's head? Her husband, Fox, says she's imagining things. The more Fox dismisses her fears, the more Blythe begins to question her own sanity, and the more we begin to question what Blythe is telling us about her life as well.

Then their son Sam is born—and with him, Blythe has the blissful connection she'd always imagined with her child. Even Violet seems to love her little brother. But when life as they know it is changed in an instant, the devastating fall-out forces Blythe to face the truth.

The Push is a tour de force you will read in a sitting, an utterly immersive novel that will challenge everything you think you know about motherhood, about what we owe our children, and what it feels like when women are not believed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penguin Books
• Release date: Jan 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9781984881670

Book preview

Cover for The Push

Praise for The Push

"[A] deft and immersive thriller . . . The Push is an ingenious reincarnation of that most forbidden of suspense narratives: the mommy-in-peril-from-her-own-monstrous-offspring."

—Maureen Corrigan, The Washington Post

"What makes [The Push] stand out is Audrain’s nuanced understanding of how women’s voices are discounted, how a thousand little slights can curdle a solid marriage, and . . . how mothers really feel."

—Los Angeles Times

Taut, chilling . . . Audrain has a gift for capturing the seemingly small moments that speak volumes about relationships.

—The New York Times Book Review

A thrilling debut.

—Harper’s Bazaar

This tense hurricane of a debut is best devoured in one sitting.

—Newsweek

A chilling page-turner that asks provocative questions.

—Real Simple

"Well thought out, carefully crafted, vividly realized, and gripping . . . The Push turbocharges maternal anxieties with a fierce gothic energy."

—The Guardian (London)

A psychological thriller that will make you question everything you know about motherhood.

—Bitch

"This book should come with a warning label! [A] buzzy debut novel that packs quite a few punches. With shades of We Need to Talk About Kevin . . . this GMA Book Club pick is a compulsively readable novel."

—New York Post

This is a sterling addition to the burgeoning canon of bad seed suspense, from an arrestingly original new voice.

—Publishers Weekly (starred review)

Both an absorbing thriller and an intense, profound look at the heartbreaking ways motherhood can go wrong, this [novel] is sure to provoke discussion.

—Booklist

"[A] dazzling exercise in both economy of language and vividness of expression . . . The Push announces Audrain as a sophisticated, compelling writer, perfect for fans of thrillers and intimate family dramas alike."

—BookPage

"Ashley Audrain’s The Push is a taut tour de force that draws you in from the very first pages and plunges you into the most harrowing of journeys: parenthood."

—Bill Clegg, New York Times bestselling author of Did You Ever Have a Family

With its riveting prose and deep convictions . . . Audrain’s astute portrayal of motherhood is unsettling in its insights, yet highly entertaining on the page. Complex, nuanced, and unflinching, I inhaled this debut in one sitting.

—Karma Brown, #1 international bestselling author of Recipe for a Perfect Wife

Intensely absorbing, gripping, until the final page.

—Kim Edwards, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Memory Keeper’s Daughter

This is a thriller, yes, but one that probes deeply—with enormous intelligence—into what it means to be a mother. And, ultimately—like the best fiction of any genre—what it means to be a person in the world.

—Joanna Rakoff, internationally bestselling author of My Salinger Year

A deeply provocative and fearless look at motherhood written in some of the prettiest prose you’ll read all year.

—Aimee Molloy, New York Times bestselling author of Goodnight Beautiful

Brilliant, insightful, compassionate, and horrifying. I wish I could read it for the first time over and over. One of the best books I’ve read all year.

—Stephanie Wrobel, bestselling author of This Might Hurt

"Relentlessly compelling, distressing, and beautiful, Ashley Audrain’s debut is the next Gone Girl, with shades of We Need to Talk About Kevin. I devoured it whole."

—Marissa Stapley, bestselling author of The Last Resort

Visceral, provocative, compulsive, and with the most graphic and relatable description of childbirth I’ve read.

—Sarah Vaughan, bestselling author of Reputation

Compelling, beautifully written, and wickedly entertaining . . . A tremendously thought-provoking read.

—Liz Nugent, #1 international bestselling author of Our Little Cruelties

"The Push is a force of nature, an unforgettable arrival that will linger in your heart—shimmer, darken, and then haunt you. Perhaps if Stephen King had experienced motherhood . . . he might have been able to dream up this book."

—Claudia Dey, author of Heartbreaker

"The Push is a freight train of a read—it barrels into you and propels you along, taking you places you’re not sure you want to go. I found it disturbing, upsetting, and utterly compelling."

—Beth Morrey, international bestselling author of Delphine Jones Takes a Chance

A tense and unsettling thriller that’s immersive, chilling, and provocative. A book that’s best read in one sitting.

—Iain Reid, New York Times bestselling author of We Spread

Penguin Books

THE PUSH

Ashley Audrain’s debut novel, The Push, was a New York Times, Sunday Times (London), and number-one international bestseller, and a Good Morning America Book Club pick. It has sold in more than forty territories, and a limited television series is currently in development. Audrain previously worked as the publicity director of Penguin Books Canada, and prior to that she worked in public relations. She lives in Toronto, where she and her partner are raising their two young children. Her second novel, The Whispers, is forthcoming.

Look for the Penguin Readers Guide in the back of this book.

To access Penguin Readers Guides online, visit penguinrandomhouse.com.

Book title, The Push, Subtitle, A Novel, author, Ashley Audrain, imprint, Pamela Dorman Books

PENGUIN BOOKS

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

penguinrandomhouse.com

First published in the United States of America by Pamela Dorman Books/Viking, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2021

Published in Penguin Books 2022

Copyright © 2021 by Ashley Audrain Creative Inc.

Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

A Pamela Dorman Book/Viking

ISBN 9781984881687 (paperback)

the library of congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:

Names: Audrain, Ashley, 1982– author.

Title: The push: a novel / Ashley Audrain.

Description: [New York]: Pamela Dorman Books/Viking, [2021]

Identifiers: LCCN 2020010071 (print) | LCCN 2020010072 (ebook) | ISBN 9781984881663 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781984881670 (ebook) | ISBN 9780593296516 (international edition)

Subjects: GSAFD: Suspense fiction.

Classification: LCC PR9199.4.A9244 P87 2021 (print) | LCC PR9199.4.A9244 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020010071

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020010072

Cover design by Jason Ramirez

Cover art by Ella Rothenstein

Designed by Amanda Dewey, adapted for ebook

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

pid_prh_5.6.1_148350563_c0_r3

For Oscar and Waverly

Contents

Cover

Praise for The Push

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Chapter 1

1939–1958

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

1962

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

1964

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

1968

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

1969

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

1972

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

1972–1974

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

1975

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

A year and a half later

Acknowledgments

Excerpt from The Whispers

Readers Guide

_148350563_

It is often said that the first sound we hear in the womb is our mother’s heartbeat. Actually, the first sound to vibrate our newly developed hearing apparatus is the pulse of our mother’s blood through her veins and arteries. We vibrate to that primordial rhythm even before we have ears to hear. Before we were conceived, we existed in part as an egg in our mother’s ovary. All the eggs a woman will ever carry form in her ovaries while she is a four-month-old fetus in the womb of her mother. This means our cellular life as an egg begins in the womb of our grandmother. Each of us spent five months in our grandmother’s womb and she in turn formed within the womb of her grandmother. We vibrate to the rhythms of our mother’s blood before she herself is born. . . .

Layne Redmond, When the Drummers Were Women

Your house glows at night like everything inside is on fire.

The drapes she chose for the windows look like linen. Expensive linen. The weave is loose enough that I can usually read your mood. I can watch the girl flip her ponytail while she finishes homework. I can watch the little boy toss tennis balls at the twelve-foot ceiling while your wife lunges around the living room in leggings, reversing the day’s mess. Toys back in the basket. Pillows back on the couch.

Tonight, though, you’ve left the drapes open. Maybe to see the snow falling. Maybe so your daughter could look for reindeer. She’s long stopped believing, but she will pretend for you. Anything for you.

You’ve all dressed up. The children are in matching plaid, sitting on the leather ottoman as your wife takes their picture with her phone. The girl is holding the boy’s hand. You’re fiddling with the record player at the back of the room and your wife is speaking to you, but you hold up a finger—you’ve almost got it. The girl jumps up and your wife, she sweeps up the boy, and they spin. You lift a drink, Scotch, and sip it once, twice, and slink from the record like it’s a sleeping baby. That’s how you always start to dance. You take him. He throws his head back. You tip him upside down. Your daughter reaches up for Daddy’s kiss and your wife holds your drink for you. She sways over to the tree and adjusts a string of lights that isn’t sitting quite right. And then you all stop and lean toward one another and shout something in unison, some word, perfectly timed, and then you all move again—this is a song you know well. Your wife slips out of the room and her son’s face follows robotically. I remember that feeling. Of being the needed one.

Matches. She comes back to light the candles on the decorated mantel and I wonder if the snaking fir boughs are real, if they smell like the tree farm. I let myself imagine, for a moment, watching those boughs go up in flames while you all sleep tonight. I imagine the warm, butter-yellow glow of your house turning to a hot, crackling red.

The boy has picked up an iron poker and the girl gently takes it away before you or your wife notices. The good sister. The helper. The protector.

---

•   •   •

I don’t normally watch for this long, but you’re all so beautiful tonight and I can’t bring myself to leave. The snow, the kind that sticks, the kind she’ll roll into snowmen in the morning to please her little brother. I turn on my wipers, adjust the heat, and notice the clock change from 7:29 to 7:30. This is when you’d have read her The Polar Express.

Your wife, she’s in the chair now, and she’s watching the three of you bounce around the room. She laughs and collects her long, loose curls to the side. She smells your drink and puts it down. She smiles. Your back is to her so you can’t see what I can, that she’s holding her stomach with one hand, that she rubs herself ever so slightly and then looks down, that she’s lost in the thought of what’s growing inside her. They are cells. But they are everything. You turn around and her attention is pulled back to the room. To the people she loves.

She will tell you tomorrow morning.

I still know her so well.

I look down to put on my gloves. When I look back up the girl is standing at your open front door. Her face is half lit by the lantern above your house number. The plate she’s holding is stacked with carrots and cookies. You’ll leave crumbs on the tile floor of the foyer. You’ll play along and so will she.

Now she’s looking at me sitting in my car. She shivers. The dress your wife bought her is too small and I can see that her hips are growing, that her chest is blooming. With one hand she carefully pulls her ponytail over her shoulder and it’s more the gesture of a woman than a girl.

For the first time in her life I think our daughter looks like me.

I put down the car window and I lift my hand, a hello, a secret hello. She places the plate at her feet and stands again to look at me before she turns around to go inside. To her family. I watch for the drapes to be yanked closed, for you to come to the door to see why the hell I am parked outside your home on a night like tonight. And what, really, could I say? I was lonely? I missed her? I deserved to be the mother inside your glowing house?

Instead she prances back into the living room, where you’ve coaxed your wife from the chair. While you dance together, close, feeling up the back of her shirt, our daughter takes the boy’s hand and leads him to the center of the living-room window. An actor hitting her mark on the stage. They were framed so precisely.

He looks just like Sam. He has his eyes. And that wave of dark hair that ends in a curl, the curl I wrapped around my finger over and over again.

I feel sick.

Our daughter is staring out the window looking at me, her hands on your son’s shoulders. She bends down and kisses him on the cheek. And then again. And then again. The boy likes the affection. He is used to it. He is pointing to the falling snow but she won’t look away from me. She rubs the tops of his arms as though she’s warming him up. Like a mother would do.

You come to the window and kneel down to the boy’s level. You look out and then you look up. My car doesn’t catch your eye. You point to the snowflakes like your son, and you trace a path across the sky with your finger. You’re talking about the sleigh. About the reindeer. He’s searching the night, trying to see what you see. You flick him playfully under the chin. Her eyes are still fixed on me. I find myself sitting back in my seat. I swallow and finally look away from her. She always wins.

When I look back she’s still there, watching my car.

I think she might reach for the curtain, but she doesn’t. My eyes don’t leave her this time. I pick up the thick stack of paper beside me on the passenger seat and feel the weight of my words.

I’ve come here to give this to you.

This is my side of the story.

1

You slid your chair over and tapped my textbook with the end of your pencil and I stared at the page, hesitant to look up. Hello? I had answered you like a phone call. This made you laugh. And so we sat there, giggling, two strangers in a school library, studying for the same elective subject. There must have been hundreds of students in the class—I had never seen you before. The curls in your hair fell over your eyes and you twirled them with your pencil. You had such a peculiar name. You walked me home later in the afternoon and we were quiet with each other. You didn’t hide how smitten you were, smiling right at me every so often; I looked away each time. I had never experienced attention like that from anyone before. You kissed my hand outside my dorm and this made us laugh all over again.

---

•   •   •

Soon we were twenty-one and we were inseparable. We had less than a year left until we graduated. We spent it sleeping together in my raft of a dorm bed, and studying at opposite ends of the couch with our legs intertwined. We’d go out to the bar with your friends, but we always ended up home early, in bed, in the novelty of each other’s warmth. I barely drank, and you’d had enough of the party scene—you wanted only me. Nobody in my world seemed to mind much. I had a small circle of friends who were more like acquaintances. I was so focused on maintaining my grades for my scholarship that I didn’t have the time or the interest for a typical college social life. I suppose I hadn’t grown very close to anyone in those years, not until I met you. You offered me something different. We slipped out of the social orbit and were happily all each other needed.

The comfort I found in you was consuming—I had nothing when I met you, and so you effortlessly became my everything. This didn’t mean you weren’t worthy of it—you were. You were gentle and thoughtful and supportive. You were the first person I’d told that I wanted to be a writer, and you replied, I can’t imagine you being anyone else. I reveled in the way girls looked at us, like they had something to be jealous about. I smelled your head of waxy dark hair while you slept at night and traced the line of your fuzzy jaw to wake you up in the morning. You were an addiction.

For my birthday, you wrote down one hundred things you loved about me. 14. I love that you snore a little bit right when you fall asleep. 27. I love the beautiful way you write. 39. I love tracing my name on your back. 59. I love sharing a muffin with you on the way to class. 72. I love the mood you wake up in on Sundays. 80. I love watching you finish a good book and then hold it to your chest at the end. 92. I love what a good mother you’ll be one day.

Why do you think I’ll be a good mother? I put down the list and felt for a moment like maybe you didn’t know me at all.

Why wouldn’t you be a good mother? You poked me playfully in the belly. You’re caring. And sweet. I can’t wait to have little babies with you.

There was nothing to do but force myself to smile.

I’d never met someone with a heart as eager as yours.

---

•   •   •

One day you’ll understand, Blythe. The women in this family . . . we’re different."

I can still see my mother’s tangerine lipstick on the cigarette filter. The ash falling into the cup, swimming in the last sip of my orange juice. The smell of my burnt toast.

You asked about my mother, Cecilia, only on a few occasions. I told you only the facts: (1) she left when I was eleven years old, (2) I only ever saw her twice after that, and (3) I had no idea where she was.

You knew I was holding back more, but you never pressed—you were scared of what you might hear. I understood. We’re all entitled to have certain expectations of each other and of ourselves. Motherhood is no different. We all expect to have, and to marry, and to be, good mothers.

1939–1958

Etta was born on the very same day World War II began. She had eyes like the Atlantic Ocean and was red-faced and pudgy from the beginning.

She fell in love with the first boy she ever met, the town doctor’s son. His name was Louis, and he was polite and well spoken, not common among the boys she knew, and he wasn’t the type to care that Etta hadn’t been born with the luck of good looks. Louis walked Etta to school with one hand behind his back, from their very first day of school to their last. And Etta was charmed by things like that.

Her family owned hundreds of acres of cornfields. When Etta turned eighteen and told her father she wanted to marry Louis, he insisted his new son-in-law had to learn how to farm. He had no sons of his own, and he wanted Louis to take over the family business. But Etta thought her father just wanted to prove a point to the young man: farming was hard and respectable work. It wasn’t for the weak. And it certainly wasn’t for an intellectual. Etta had chosen someone who was nothing like her father.

Louis had planned to be a doctor like his own father was, and had a scholarship waiting for medical school. But he wanted Etta’s hand in marriage more than he wanted a medical license. Despite Etta’s pleas to take it easy on him, her father worked Louis to the bone. He was up at four o’clock every morning and out into the dewy fields. Four in the morning until dusk, and as Etta liked to remind people, he never complained once. Louis sold the medical bag and textbooks that his own father had passed down to him, and he put the money in a jar on their kitchen counter. He told Etta it was the start of a college fund for their future children. Etta thought this said a lot about the selfless kind of man he was.

One fall day, before the sun rose, Louis was severed by the beater on a silage wagon. He bled to death, alone in the cornfield. Etta’s father found him and sent her to cover up the body with a tarp from the barn. She carried Louis’s mangled leg back to the farmhouse and threw it at her father’s head while he was filling a bucket of water meant to wash away the blood on the wagon.

She hadn’t told her family yet about the child growing inside her. She was a big woman, seventy pounds overweight, and hid the pregnancy well. The baby girl, Cecilia, was born four months later on the kitchen floor in the middle of a snowstorm. Etta stared at the jar of money on the counter above her while she pushed the baby out.

Etta and Cecilia lived quietly at the farmhouse and rarely ventured into town. When they did, it wasn’t hard to hear everyone’s whispers about the woman who suffered from the nerves. In those days, not much more was said—not much more was suspected. Louis’s father gave Etta’s mother a regular supply of sedatives to give to Etta as she saw fit. And so Etta spent most days in the small brass bed in the room she grew up in and her mother took care of Cecilia.

But Etta soon realized she would never meet another man lying doped up like that in bed. She learned to function well enough and eventually started to take care of Cecilia, pushing her around town in the stroller while the poor girl screamed for her grandmother. Etta told people she’d been plagued with a terrible chronic stomach pain, that she couldn’t eat for months on end, and that’s how she’d got so thin. Nobody believed this, but Etta didn’t care about their lazy gossip. She had just met Henry.

Henry was new to town and they went to the same church. He managed a staff of sixty people at a candy manufacturing plant. He was sweet to Etta from the minute they met—he loved babies and Cecilia was particularly cute, so she turned out not to be the problem everyone said she’d be.

Before long, Henry bought them a Tudor-style house with mint-green trim in the middle of town. Etta left the brass bed for good and gained back all the weight she’d lost. She threw herself into making a home for her family. There was a well-built porch with a swing, lace curtains on every window, and chocolate chip cookies always in the oven. One day their new living-room furniture was delivered to the wrong house, and the neighbor let the delivery man set it all up in her basement even though she hadn’t ordered it. When Etta caught wind of this, she ran down the street after the truck, yelling profanity in her housecoat and curlers. This gave everyone a good laugh, including, eventually, Etta.

She tried very hard to be the woman she was expected to be.

A good wife. A good mother.

Everything seemed like it would be just fine.

2

Things that come to mind when I think about the beginning of us:

---

•   •   •

Your mother and father. This might not have been as important to other people, but with you came a family. My only family. The generous gifts, the airplane tickets to be with you all somewhere sunny on vacation. Their house smelled like warm, laundered linens,

[bookofsecrets · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I’ve seen THE PUSH getting a lot of buzz on Instagram, and I can certainly see why. The subject matter is chilling and flat-out tragic, but I couldn’t quit reading.

The story is told in second person, with the narrator being Blythe, and the “you” she’s taking to, her husband, Fox. Blythe’s own mother, and her mother before her, were cold & neglectful. Was it mental illness, or simply a lack of desire to be a mother? Blythe wants to give her new baby, Violet, the love and affection she missed as a child. But, things don’t go as planned, and Blythe soon senses that something is wrong with Violet.

This book tackles the struggles of motherhood, generational trauma, and the “nature versus nurture” debate in a gripping way. My mind kept wrestling over Blythe and Violet’s characters, wondering if there really was something “off,” or whether it was imagined. Either way, what a devastating situation to be in.

THE PUSH is a remarkable debut novel from Ashley Audrain, and she’s definitely going on my auto-buy list.

[techeditor_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Although THE PUSH is an excellent novel you'll want to keep reading, that will be in spite of its subject matter. It is a woman's first-person account of her marriage to her college sweetheart and their evil child. It is written as if it is an explanation she has written for her ex-husband. It is a sad book, and it may even be depressing.

This book is too much like WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN. If you haven't read that book, it, also, is about an evil child. As with that book, I found THE PUSH to be maddening and frustrating in addition to sad and depressing.

Even so, you will probably find, as I did, until you start reading another book, you won't be able to stop thinking about this one.

[MagalyProcopio · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

One side of motherhood that is rarely talked about and is heavily punished when it occurs. Blythe carries a past filled with indifference and violence from her mother, who also suffered at the hands of her own mother. A cycle of violence and evil that she hopes to break now that she is about to become a mother, but she lives with the recurring fears of failing her own daughter, feeling judged by her husband, her mother-in-law, and society, all expecting perfection from her. And, on top of all this, a daughter who seems not to love her, and in some way, the evil that haunts these women has managed to enter her. (Translated from Spanish)

[Jose Mariano H · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

June 23, 2024
The Instinct
Ashley Audrain

Blythe Connor eagerly awaits the arrival of her first daughter. However, when Violet is born, the mother-daughter connection does not happen, and over time Blythe becomes convinced that there is something strange and wrong with her daughter Violet, strange behaviors, a rejection of affection, which leads Blythe to question aspects of motherhood that were not what she expected. A very interesting novel about motherhood, marriage, and how it is expected to be, how parenting patterns repeat; the narrative has a very dynamic pace and develops great tension. A gripping and truly very good novel that I enjoyed. (Translated from Spanish)

[Maimoregui · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Buff, it's a book that I've had a hard time getting into, but I've found it to be a rather tough psychological thriller at times and worthy of attention. It tackles a hard topic, addressing with starkness the family relationships we have idealized, which are not always as we expect. It's worth it. (Translated from Spanish)

[mariastroud · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Wow. I am blown away...I couldn't put it down. Excellent writing. TWO thumbs up

[rickgeissal · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I loved this book, written in an unusual form, which worked wondrously. The author is brilliant, and this book is a masterpiece - a haunting, very disturbing masterpiece, but a masterpiece. I'll give only 2 insights:
1. it is about 4 generations o women in one family
2. one of the women says to her then-10 year old daughter, "The women in this family are different from other women. You will see."

[RUE · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Just thinking about bringing a child into the world unleashes a thousand thoughts in your head, doubts ranging from how to raise them and be a good mother to what mistakes you make that will impact your children. One decision can mark an entire generation (or more). Having a past with "healthy relationships" is not synonymous with there actually being something healthy in them; patterns tend to repeat themselves, and that's where the role of both parents comes in—not to project the same experiences they lived through. It frustrates me to see some parents not understanding the tremendous emotional burden a mother carries, something she may have been forced into simply because it was the next step (except in much more serious cases, like that of grandmothers). How many dreams were cut short and illusions shattered? How many tears were trapped within the four walls of a house? How many times did she want to run away? How much disappointment can a woman's heart hold, and yet still love like it did on the first day? What a difficult situation...

Once, I heard my mother say, "My daughters turned out well, all three of them." Sweet mom, now I know what you were referring to, your greatest fear; now I understand... (Translated from Spanish)

[LetiMG · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Addictive book that makes it hard to believe it happened... it explains very well the feeling and the meaning of the word MOTHER, so difficult to explain and understand. (Translated from Spanish)

[Gilbert77 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Totally addictive psychological suspense thriller.
Through the story of three women, three generations, we are presented with the harsh role of motherhood and upbringing, unflinchingly confronting the worst fears women face, repeating and avoiding patterns learned from our mothers. We witness the destruction of a family and the origins of evil.
I had a knot in my stomach reading the book; the grief over the death of a child, that pain, sometimes makes you doubt reality.
Highly recommended reading. (Translated from Spanish)

[geauxgetlit · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

As a mom, this book was intense. Imagine thinking your child is evil!! It raises the question is it nature or nurture that spawns sociopaths?

[ASF1984 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

"A mother’s heart breaks a million times in life, and each time in a different way."

I can only say that the ending took my breath away, that it’s a complicated book to put down, and it hooked me from start to finish.
Adding anything more is totally unnecessary.
Instinct is a harsh, intense, and horrifying novel about motherhood, a story that explores the origins of evil (are we capable of recognizing evil in our children?) and the family traumas that repeat across generations.
I liked it a lot ? (Translated from Spanish)

[caanderson-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Tense from the first paragraph. The slow winding tale of loss and obsession is amazing.

[Arturia Pendragon? · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

One of the best readings so far that brought forth those feelings that arise in the presence of a great book. We follow Blythe's life, and at times we'll see about the women in her life, who are not exactly model mothers. On every page, I felt great empathy for Blythe for everything she has to endure after becoming a mother, and especially for that psychopathic girl who drove me crazy with her attitude, even when I reminded myself she was just a child. How, even before becoming a mother, she had strong stereotypes that could harm women, and how, despite the tragedy, she was the one with the least support and understanding while being alone. Her husband, despite his pain, had his family. She had nothing ?

New fear unlocked!!! ? (Translated from Spanish)

[jonez-6 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This was very reminiscent of the book "We Need to Talk About Kevin." It was well written, and it was a pretty quick and satisfying read. It held my attention throughout, even in the middle of the reading slump I have been in the last month. Excited to read more offerings from this author.

[nancynova · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Intense and riveting. What make a "bad" child? Violet definitely had issues, and I do think that she did push Sam's stroller into traffic, and tripped the boy on the playground slide. But did she really understand that the consequences of that were death? Flashbacks to Blyth's mother Cecelia and her mother Etta. Etta was definitely mentally ill, Cecelia likely less so, but definitely not motherly. After the divorce, Blythe needed to get out and get a job. Staying in the house was not in her best interest, and sharing custody of Violet was definitely not good for her nor Violet. But Fox was a bit dense. He thought his mother was perfect (guaranteed that she was not) and never saw Blythe's implosion nor attempted to get her any psych help.

[Nana7 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very good psychological thriller about motherhood, family relationships, and the need to fit in.

It maintains tension throughout the work, presenting the complex portrait of a mother who is both a victim and her own worst enemy, playing with the great fears of every first-time mother: Am I doing this right? Is this behavior normal?

A story of several generations that gradually unfolds and a presentation of real motherhood, with its lights and shadows, that hooks you from the first page. (Translated from Spanish)

[Cesarito1970 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Without words. A novel that leaves you speechless.
Addictive, agile, explosive, stinging. Very stinging. But really effective.

With very short chapters (thus many), it narrates the story of a "chain" of women in a family, with their supposed "non-calling" for motherhood, a controversial and uncomfortable theme, as it challenges the social norm that woman and mother must always merge into one person.

In other words... Is it wrong to think that many women do not feel the need to be mothers, and in fact, detest being so? That is the premise of this novel.

In addition to its unique proposal, it is very well written, with short, concrete, and striking sentences, with a pace that doesn’t stop and impeccable character descriptions, making them easy to imagine in a tangible and very real way.

Truly a debut novel by this writer that is worth reading, to become involved, to be surprised, and to be carried away by this story of frustrations, anguish, and, why not, love or lack thereof throughout four generations... (Translated from Spanish)

[luminous4path · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is not a genre I normally read or even like much. But I was riveted. The uncertainty of everything was expertly done. The narrator is unreliable. Even the end, which seems to wrap everything up, is open to interpretation. The reader can walk away believing what they want to believe. I do think it points much more in one direction than another though.

The generational trauma was a brilliant angle. Is Blythe having trouble caring for her own daughter because her mother did, and her mother before her? Obviously. So is that all that's going on? There seems to be more, but we can't be sure because her vision is clouded by her own trauma.

Written in no-nonsense, claustrophobic prose.

[lcovaro · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I just finished this book, and I find it hard to find the words to describe it. It's a psychological thriller, but it delves into topics that we should talk about much more: motherhood and maternal instinct, the desire to be or not to be a mother, mental illnesses, genetic inheritance, love and heartbreak...
The novel is addictive, and with its short chapters, it hooks you from the very first pages. In my case, the narration made me question the perspective and credibility of the narrator all the time, which kept me from stopping reading.
The ending, in my opinion, gives a perfect closure to the story. It didn't strike me as a plot twist as I had read in some reviews, but rather a conclusion that aligns well with the development of the novel. And I won't say more to avoid spoiling it.
If you like psychological thrillers, I highly recommend this novel. Being a debut work, I give it a 4.5/5.

"We believed we knew one another. We believed we knew ourselves."
Blythe no longer knows what is true and what is false: is she living the happy life she always wanted, with a perfect husband and an angelic daughter? Or is she repeating the sordid story of her mother and grandmother, marked by detachment and abuse? Is Fox, her husband, the ideal partner and father, or does he have a parallel life that takes him further away from home each day? Is her daughter Violet a brilliant and complicated girl who just wants her mother to pay her more attention, or is she evil by nature? Depending on the moment and how you look at it, everything and nothing can seem true or seem like a trap.
Instinct is a novel that stays with you. A story of horror and redemption, an exploration of the origin of evil and the ominous way in which family traumas are transmitted from mothers to daughters. This is, ultimately, a brave story that prompts each reader to question painful, personal, and therefore necessary issues. (Translated from Spanish)

[NaniBani · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

"The Instinct," a book that, despite a bland beginning, teleports you into the protagonist's mind and makes you quickly empathize with her worries and anxiety.

Personally, I have a two-year-old girl, and I can say that I identify with many of the cases; in fact... at times you become a participant in her fear, in her anger.

The story is not one in particular and at the same time it is everything. The story of a marriage, a difficult motherhood, loss, suspicion, love, anxiety, and self-knowledge based on our past and our childhood experiences.

Without a doubt, a highly recommended read. (Translated from Spanish)

[gabyentreletras · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Hello everyone, today I bring you the review of this novel that I came to by recommendation and the truth is that I liked it very much, it is hard to read since the central theme is the other side of motherhood.

The first thing to highlight is the way it is written, in the second person by the protagonist, Blythe, where in the form of an open letter we see all her feelings especially after becoming a mother.

Countless times we hear about the connection between mother and child after birth... but what happens when it isn't that way?

We find ourselves with a novel that seems very calm but reaches a point where it becomes impossible to put down; everything seems to indicate it could be postpartum depression, the fears, the anxieties of a first-time mother... but what if it isn’t? Can a mother know when something is really wrong with her child?

Through Blythe, we learn about the history of the women in her family, with time jumps we get to know the mother and grandmother, and we see how her daughter exhibits certain behaviors that clearly draw attention...

It left me feeling uneasy, with a desire to know more, it surprised me and I liked it a lot, in fact, it reads very quickly, and as I said, it is hard, especially if you are a mother or father. I highly recommend it! (Translated from Spanish)

[mercef_9 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Powerful and disturbing, in the vein of one of my favourite (?) books, “We need to talk about Kevin.” I could feel the tension build as the story unfolded by the feeling of dread hovering inside me.
Not one of those feel good reads but certainly one that leaves an impression.

[waldhaus1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The reader is left to wonder what the author meant too be seen as the truth and what seen as the tanning off madness. Certainly a reminder that being a parent pass filled with challenges both about yourself and your child.

[citizenjoyce · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A combination of We Need To Talk About Kevin and The Omen combined with 3 generations of bad mothering. If a woman tells you she doesn't want children, believe she's the best judge of her maternal capacities. If a mother tells you her child is evil I think some intense psychological counseling is indicated for the whole family.

[janismack · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Story of a woman who suspects her daughter is evil. I found this hard to read as I cannot imagine a small child to be so evil and hate her own mother. The author gave us some hints that the daughter’s mental stability was genetic with numerous flasbacks to her own mother and grandmother. Not for the faint of heart.

[jacsun · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Four generations of disturbed women starting with Etta, then Cecilia, then Blythe and finally Violet. They all need therapy to help manage their lives. The book isn't a thriller; it's just plain creepy. While the writing was good and the story moved right along, it left me hanging at the end. I will pass this book along to someone else to see what they think.

[Sandra · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

If you wake up early to get through some reading, you are hooked. It's been a while since I felt this way. A very well-told story that treats motherhood from all angles, not just the sweetened one. In that sense, I liked it a lot. To point out a flaw: I don't know if the author intended for the other two stories she narrates to explain the main story, but in my opinion, they have too much prominence. As for the ending: I expected it and saw it as a logical consequence. I would have been upset if it had happened differently. And yet, it left me a bit cold. (Translated from Spanish)

[Gisel · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Review
The Instinct
Ashley Audrain
4.5/5 stars
I really enjoyed this read. It’s worth mentioning that the way it’s written is very digestible and keeps you interested in what’s happening. The background is indeed unsettling; there were moments when I felt desperate to get to the bottom of what was really going on. The story is narrated by Blythe and is practically directed to her ex-partner, so that he knows everything that happened since they decided to live together until their separation. An essential part is the relationship she has with her daughter Violet, from which several events arise that generated anxiety for me.
In summary, The Instinct shows us the dark side of motherhood and everything it truly entails. (Translated from Spanish)

[lalectorasincola · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book burns you from the inside, it scorches you regardless of your stance and situation, because when topics like family relationships are approached with such a harsh yet sensitive narrative, so vivid, it’s impossible not to touch a nerve, not to stir something within you. I literally devoured it; the protagonist's anguish transcends the pages and reaches the reader, it's impossible not to want to know more, reading chapter after chapter until you reach the conclusion.

Blythe is the protagonist of this story, and she will be the one narrating the chapters except for some of her past. You will suffer with her, and when you think there can’t be any more pain, you will descend into hell.

It’s not a typical thriller with crimes, murders, and police investigations; no. It’s a thriller with multiple victims. It’s a heart-wrenching novel tinged with anguish and suspense, a novel that is sometimes too intimate, sometimes psychological horror, and sometimes real, very real, with surprising twists at just the right moments. Is evil inherited? Is it in our genes? Are we capable of freeing ourselves from our past and the marks it has left on us? This book opens the door to a good debate. I wished for more pages, to read more of this story, one that wouldn't end. (Translated from Spanish)