Review by Woodrow Phoenix
For most people, there is nothing to think about when it comes to having children. Once you’re an adult, parenthood is the inevitable next stage and the only questions are when and how many. It doesn’t matter if you have lots of money or none, an ideal living situation and a wonderful partner, or crappy housing and a terrible relationship. It’s going to happen and that’s that. The challenges of raising a child will be dealt with as they come along, and life will be complete. You’ve done it. It’s what everyone does. It’s normal.
But what happens if you aren’t so sure about that? I Don’t Want to be a Mum is an autobiographical account of Irene Olmo’s experience as a young woman who gradually realises that the usual assumptions about meeting someone, settling down and starting a family just don’t have any appeal for her. Olmo draws her vividly stylised, almost doll-like figures in black line against light blue backgrounds, with pops of colour to define them, with red almost exclusively reserved for our narrator herself. This gives her compositions a decorative, graphic feel whatever else may be going on, a useful design strategy when much of the book revolves around conversations in domestic settings, with the occasional fantasy interlude.
I Don’t Want to Be a Mom explores Olmo’s life as a little girl learning how to navigate her body and then a teen who begins to have doubts about the path everyone else takes for granted. The transition from teenager to adult comes via funny scenes of the college life she undergoes as a student, adapting to housemates and colleagues who have radically different ideas about everything from how much time and effort they devote to coursework, to what they intend to do after graduation. “I have more important things to think about,” Irene says at a party when the subject of kids comes up. “You’re fooling yourself,” a boy called Sam tells her. “Deep down you know… it’s in your DNA.” “I want at least three!” a friend chimes in, “I adore large families!”
What follows is a series of funny and exasperating vignettes as Irene endures constant pressure from her parents and family members at weddings, baptisms and communions: “How about it you two, then. When will it be? You are going to have such darling children,” says her aunt at a family gathering. “Did you know that Marie Ange’s daughter is pregnant?” asks her mother over dinner. “You know she’s six years younger than you.” Her grandmother is even blunter: “Aren’t you going to give me a great-grandson? I mean, what are you waiting for? Back in the day we weren’t so careful!” The indecision Irene feels finally turns into a definite no after extensive conversations with all the women she knows who have chosen motherhood. That doesn’t stop the ceaseless hectoring from pretty much everyone she meets in any social setting, in encounters that are brilliantly if annoyingly depicted.
The second half of this book is almost more challenging than the first until Irene gains the mental space to think it all through, and whichever side of the debate you are on, you’ll have to respect the very hard-earned conclusions she comes to. Some credit for the smoothness of the dialogue has to go to translator Kendra Boileau who makes it all flow very naturally. If you have ever had any doubts about whether parenthood is for you, Irene Olmo’s exploration of all the pros and cons will make you feel less alone in questioning the burdens of ‘choice’.
