"I deeply appreciate a book that I could gift to twenty different people as of a way of passive aggressively saying "I think you're a bit of a nut," but mean it in twenty different ways. Motherhood is loveliness wrapped in a whole bunch of other bullshit, and Nine Months does an excellent job of laying that bullshit bare. In a slightly farcical way, Bomer exposes the class consciousness, hypocrisy, and paranoia of a few different stripes of families. It's a mean book, a very mean book; mean to its protagonist, everyone she meets, and everyone who reads it. But they deserve it. I deserve it. It is good to be brutalized every now and then. (It's sort of the point of art, right?)"