I had no idea how much I needed this book until I read it. As a woman in my early thirties (I’m actually 34, so I should probably just admit that I’m in my mid-thirties) who has been lucky enough to meet the love of her life and who has always wanted a family, I have been existing in a state of anxiety about babies, work, life etc for about four years now, even before the life-altering pandemic slowed everything down and upped the ante at the same time.
The most wonderful thing about The Panic Years was the feeling of solidarity it gave me with people of a similar age who are going through the same transformative processes. It’s hard to give voice to the swirling feelings sometimes. It’s also weirdly difficult to admit to being an ambitious woman who really wants to have babies. There’s cognitive dissonance there – and there shouldn’t be. Anyway…
- Frizzell’s blend of memoir and information which was always entertaining and thought-provoking in equal measure.
- The explanation of the palpable grief which we can feel when our best friends’ lives move in a different direction to our own – how sad it can make us while we also feel so happy and excited for them. I shed a tear at Frizzell crying at a wedding because of the feeling of never quite having her friend in the same way again. I’ve been there.
- The many funny moments. I whizzed through this book in 48 hours and I found it completely enjoyable to live in Frizzell’s head for two days.
I didn’t love:
- There was nothing I didn’t love about this book. I know I’m gushing – but it’s totally worthy of the praise.
Would recommend it to:
- Any woman of my age who is familiar with this bizarre feeling of being enslaved by their hormones! And anyone really. I felt a lot less panicked after reading The Panic Years.
More book recommendations are available here.