When you pick up Liana Finck’s new graphic memoir How to Baby: A No-Advice-Given Guide to Motherhood, with Drawings, due April 30, Finck assumes you’ve done so because you’re ready to have a baby. If you have indeed been cajoled into motherhood by “honest Abe or foul Sycorax,” as Finck states, congratulations, you are the book’s target demographic and you’re in for a “wild ride.”
This isn’t an Emily Oster data-driven guide to parenting, this is a memoir in the form of a guide that speaks with intimacy and frankness on the hellish and joyous landscape of motherhood. Finck’s directness makes the book an important guide to follow because through the act of telling her story she will prepare you for the weight of your new responsibility and that despite the pressure, you don’t need to lose or forget yourself.
All the “advice” Finck gives comes from her own experiences of motherhood. She is the heroine of the story. We follow her from the time she starts trying to get pregnant with her first child to the time when her son reaches the one year mark, to the arrival of her second baby. When she addresses the reader as “you” she is also indirectly saying, This is what will (likely) happen to you because it happened to me.
If, however, you have no present or future interest in becoming a parent, I urge you to read on. For though you will not become a stuffed animal exterminator, as Finck warns, or be split into an old and new self (both of which you’ll want to maintain), or gain the “perfect excuse” to skip a party, you’re still in for a wild ride. It’s a story that is worth your time because you will walk away invigorated. Think of motherhood as a metaphor for all the stages in your own life where your self has been challenged (it's also bound to happen again). Use this guide to help realize or remind yourself that anything you want to do or be, can be possible even if it feels impossible right now.
Finck has not published work as personal as How to Baby since Passing for Human in 2018. The latter is a “neurological coming-of-age story” where she is an outsider searching for connection, meaning, and self. It is in those pages that Finck develops into the artist and humourist we first got to know in the New Yorker and on Instagram. We watch Finck grow up in Passing for Human, and in How to Baby we watch her evolve into her new role as a parent.
Now, it is time for me to be honest. I am not an expert on parenthood or on the myriad of ways you can make a baby or how to take care of a baby. In fact, at this very moment, I find the idea of being a mother overwhelming (and this book didn’t help counter that). So if you are thinking about becoming a parent, are pregnant, or are a new parent, I cannot tell you if this book will actually give you what you need. But I can tell you that you’ll find a book that does what all great works of art do: portray the confusing contradictory nature of the human species. If you don’t need to know how to baby, the pistachio-filled, fine-shaky-line illustrations and textual observations still provide the layered Finckisms pointing out the joys (dogs, for example) and shortcomings (not enough time, for example) of the human experience.
But because the topics addressed arise out of Finck’s personal life, the guide only includes what she knows and is therefore limited in scope. For instance, if you are looking to get pregnant through other avenues than just sex, you won’t find any information about that in her book. It is an exclusive “sex—> pregnancy” zone because it is what Finck did. Except don’t mistake her for a sex expert.
To know how to baby is to understand that you will live in contradictions, and that life’s highs and lows will be happening at the same time. Here’s some of the few things that happened to Finck and that will happen to you, in no particular order:
You will hide your disappointment if you’re having a boy even though you believe gender is a construct.
You will be tethered to your baby and/or breast pump: you are the laboratory. But it will all be amazing.
Your husband is annoying.
You will forget yourself.
You will become a nag.
You will be gifted a velvet umbrella.
You will wonder if there is room for a social life.
You will get back to work.
You will love your son more than anything in the world. He is the only perfect man.
But sometimes your son will not always appear perfect or act perfectly.
The illustration of the baby changes depending on either the developmental stage he is in or if Finck wants to reflect how the baby is behaving or how she, or you, feels about the baby in a certain scenario. Sometimes the baby looks like an old man. Sometimes the baby looks like an angel. Sometimes it looks like the baby is Godzilla and will swallow our heroine whole. And all the while, Finck emphasizes that the love you receive from your child and the love you have for your child is extraordinary.
Throughout How to Baby you are followed by a witch on a broomstick, with her cat saddled behind. And most of the time it feels like the decision to become a mother, which Finck likens to flipping a coin or consulting a witch, is one you’ve made because you’ve been hoodwinked (or people you know have been). It is difficult to focus on the joyful moments or feel how exceptional and blissful they are because they are dwarfed by new problems and worthwhile complaints. It constantly feels like Finck and mothers everywhere are always reacting to something. So when we witness moments when Finck is in command, it is a welcome surprise.
The only rule Finck is certain you must follow is a rule she will also tell you is okay to break. And that rule applies to sleep training. Finck breaks her no-advice rule to tell you, quite sternly, that you must sleep train your baby or risk them becoming a ball of scribbles. However, you can also lie to your doctor and tell them your baby is sleeping in their bassinet and not in your bed. Finck follows her instincts, and the lesson is that you should too. Finck takes the gentler approach to training here, but there will be other decisions she makes that make no sense to her at all.
One such moment occurs when her baby starts eating solids. She tells you mothers will experience the strange desire to crouch on the floor and compete with their dog for their baby’s chewed up leftovers. The living room is the wild west, and Finck is going toe-to-paw with her dog. Here, you’re only at risk of laughing out loud and perhaps laughing at yourself because you’ve been here before or know you will soon be. Yet, there’s a carnality to the action that is fulfilling to watch because Finck is acting upon instinct.
These are two of only a few instances where Finck is in control. It’s a refreshing shift because it is rare people generally do what they want without explanation or sense. And in motherhood, it is especially rare because mothers can lose their sense of self and can be overlooked by others. Motherhood is bloated with responsibility, duress, and chaos. Despite all the joy and help Finck receives from loved ones, she still expresses that it will often feel like you will be carrying your home, and its inhabitants, on your back. But in these moments of passion, Finck shows us it doesn't always have to be so difficult or reactive. Whether you are a parent or not, it is possible to make your own rules and follow your gut.
Near the end of her first year as a mother, “One of the most profound aspects of new parenthood,” Finck writes, “might be getting to experience the other side of childhood.” She has come to understand what it must have been like for her mom to parent and withdraws from the role as her child. You might mistake this to mean that Finck leaves her old self behind. It is the opposite. In being able to see how her mother parented, Finck can follow the version of motherhood her mother presented her with, one that is “joyful that needn’t derail one’s career/art practice.”
In the acknowledgements, Finck is not sure if she would have chosen this path if she didn’t have “good role models” like her mom. And in creating How to Baby (and releasing You Broke It! this past year) Finck is a good role model to follow because her practice and career continues to blossom. She presents a version of motherhood infused with the lesson her mother presented her. Finck shows that you’ll be able to, in your own way, carry your old self into your new role. You can still ponder, albeit within a more fine-tuned schedule, how to baby, how to adult, how to be.
When you pick up Liana Finck’s new graphic memoir How to Baby: A No-Advice-Given Guide to Motherhood, with Drawings, due April 30, Finck assumes you’ve done so because you’re ready to have a baby. If you have indeed been cajoled into motherhood by “honest Abe or foul Sycorax,” as Finck states, congratulations, you are the book’s target demographic and you’re in for a “wild ride.”
This isn’t an Emily Oster data-driven guide to parenting, this is a memoir in the form of a guide that speaks with intimacy and frankness on the hellish and joyous landscape of motherhood. Finck’s directness makes the book an important guide to follow because through the act of telling her story she will prepare you for the weight of your new responsibility and that despite the pressure, you don’t need to lose or forget yourself.
All the “advice” Finck gives comes from her own experiences of motherhood. She is the heroine of the story. We follow her from the time she starts trying to get pregnant with her first child to the time when her son reaches the one year mark, to the arrival of her second baby. When she addresses the reader as “you” she is also indirectly saying, This is what will (likely) happen to you because it happened to me.
If, however, you have no present or future interest in becoming a parent, I urge you to read on. For though you will not become a stuffed animal exterminator, as Finck warns, or be split into an old and new self (both of which you’ll want to maintain), or gain the “perfect excuse” to skip a party, you’re still in for a wild ride. It’s a story that is worth your time because you will walk away invigorated. Think of motherhood as a metaphor for all the stages in your own life where your self has been challenged (it's also bound to happen again). Use this guide to help realize or remind yourself that anything you want to do or be, can be possible even if it feels impossible right now.
Finck has not published work as personal as How to Baby since Passing for Human in 2018. The latter is a “neurological coming-of-age story” where she is an outsider searching for connection, meaning, and self. It is in those pages that Finck develops into the artist and humourist we first got to know in the New Yorker and on Instagram. We watch Finck grow up in Passing for Human, and in How to Baby we watch her evolve into her new role as a parent.
Now, it is time for me to be honest. I am not an expert on parenthood or on the myriad of ways you can make a baby or how to take care of a baby. In fact, at this very moment, I find the idea of being a mother overwhelming (and this book didn’t help counter that). So if you are thinking about becoming a parent, are pregnant, or are a new parent, I cannot tell you if this book will actually give you what you need. But I can tell you that you’ll find a book that does what all great works of art do: portray the confusing contradictory nature of the human species. If you don’t need to know how to baby, the pistachio-filled, fine-shaky-line illustrations and textual observations still provide the layered Finckisms pointing out the joys (dogs, for example) and shortcomings (not enough time, for example) of the human experience.
But because the topics addressed arise out of Finck’s personal life, the guide only includes what she knows and is therefore limited in scope. For instance, if you are looking to get pregnant through other avenues than just sex, you won’t find any information about that in her book. It is an exclusive “sex—> pregnancy” zone because it is what Finck did. Except don’t mistake her for a sex expert.
To know how to baby is to understand that you will live in contradictions, and that life’s highs and lows will be happening at the same time. Here’s some of the few things that happened to Finck and that will happen to you, in no particular order:
You will hide your disappointment if you’re having a boy even though you believe gender is a construct.
You will be tethered to your baby and/or breast pump: you are the laboratory. But it will all be amazing.
Your husband is annoying.
You will forget yourself.
You will become a nag.
You will be gifted a velvet umbrella.
You will wonder if there is room for a social life.
You will get back to work.
You will love your son more than anything in the world. He is the only perfect man.
But sometimes your son will not always appear perfect or act perfectly.
The illustration of the baby changes depending on either the developmental stage he is in or if Finck wants to reflect how the baby is behaving or how she, or you, feels about the baby in a certain scenario. Sometimes the baby looks like an old man. Sometimes the baby looks like an angel. Sometimes it looks like the baby is Godzilla and will swallow our heroine whole. And all the while, Finck emphasizes that the love you receive from your child and the love you have for your child is extraordinary.
Throughout How to Baby you are followed by a witch on a broomstick, with her cat saddled behind. And most of the time it feels like the decision to become a mother, which Finck likens to flipping a coin or consulting a witch, is one you’ve made because you’ve been hoodwinked (or people you know have been). It is difficult to focus on the joyful moments or feel how exceptional and blissful they are because they are dwarfed by new problems and worthwhile complaints. It constantly feels like Finck and mothers everywhere are always reacting to something. So when we witness moments when Finck is in command, it is a welcome surprise.
The only rule Finck is certain you must follow is a rule she will also tell you is okay to break. And that rule applies to sleep training. Finck breaks her no-advice rule to tell you, quite sternly, that you must sleep train your baby or risk them becoming a ball of scribbles. However, you can also lie to your doctor and tell them your baby is sleeping in their bassinet and not in your bed. Finck follows her instincts, and the lesson is that you should too. Finck takes the gentler approach to training here, but there will be other decisions she makes that make no sense to her at all.
One such moment occurs when her baby starts eating solids. She tells you mothers will experience the strange desire to crouch on the floor and compete with their dog for their baby’s chewed up leftovers. The living room is the wild west, and Finck is going toe-to-paw with her dog. Here, you’re only at risk of laughing out loud and perhaps laughing at yourself because you’ve been here before or know you will soon be. Yet, there’s a carnality to the action that is fulfilling to watch because Finck is acting upon instinct.
These are two of only a few instances where Finck is in control. It’s a refreshing shift because it is rare people generally do what they want without explanation or sense. And in motherhood, it is especially rare because mothers can lose their sense of self and can be overlooked by others. Motherhood is bloated with responsibility, duress, and chaos. Despite all the joy and help Finck receives from loved ones, she still expresses that it will often feel like you will be carrying your home, and its inhabitants, on your back. But in these moments of passion, Finck shows us it doesn't always have to be so difficult or reactive. Whether you are a parent or not, it is possible to make your own rules and follow your gut.
Near the end of her first year as a mother, “One of the most profound aspects of new parenthood,” Finck writes, “might be getting to experience the other side of childhood.” She has come to understand what it must have been like for her mom to parent and withdraws from the role as her child. You might mistake this to mean that Finck leaves her old self behind. It is the opposite. In being able to see how her mother parented, Finck can follow the version of motherhood her mother presented her with, one that is “joyful that needn’t derail one’s career/art practice.”
In the acknowledgements, Finck is not sure if she would have chosen this path if she didn’t have “good role models” like her mom. And in creating How to Baby (and releasing You Broke It! this past year) Finck is a good role model to follow because her practice and career continues to blossom. She presents a version of motherhood infused with the lesson her mother presented her. Finck shows that you’ll be able to, in your own way, carry your old self into your new role. You can still ponder, albeit within a more fine-tuned schedule, how to baby, how to adult, how to be.