It has been about a year since I started reading again and brainstorming the idea that turned into The Modern Folio. Blogging and pregnancy arrived at roughly the same time in my life, which is a lot to consider given everything else that has also happened since then. While I initially worried that preparing for a new baby would leave little room for reading, the opposite happened. Reading became a way to reflect on womanhood, girlhood, and motherhood all at once. Over the past nine months, a handful of books have stayed with me. Some reminded me of who I used to be. Others reflected who I am now. Together, they became companions during a season of waiting, growing, and preparing to welcome another daughter into the world.
She’s Come Undone – for the hurt woman in me
I read this book for the first time when I was in high school. It served a great purpose for me as a teenager who was going through an extremely difficult time. Much like Dolores did in the book, I felt extremely lost, and so I took comfort in the fact that her feelings and thoughts were so familiar to me. Reading about her problems felt like not being alone. When I reread the book, over a decade later, I was able to pick out certain details I hadn’t noticed the first time around – Dolores’ destructive and self-sabotaging behavior, her desperation to not be alone, her lack of self-respect, her struggle with identity, and the fact that she was not without fault in any of those aspects. Looking back on all of those things I missed, I could better recognize the parts in my own life where I had gone wrong myself and learned. I wasn’t a hurt and angry teenager anymore, though I was able to remember that version of me. In doing this, I was able to appreciate all I had gone through and grown through so much more than I did before.
Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine – for the healing woman in me
This emotional but unexpectedly funny book was a pleasant surprise for me – I did not expect to love it as much as I did. Eleanor’s quirks and awkward attempts to step outside her comfort zone often made me laugh, even as I recognized pieces of myself in her. Much like Eleanor, I had grown comfortable with a life that felt small but stable. I had settled into being a working single mother, convinced that my children were the only people I truly needed. And in many ways, I believed I was content with that. It wasn’t until life forced me out of that structure – through a job that required more social interaction, and eventually led to a mass company layoff – that I began to realize how isolated I had actually been. But what felt like falling flat on my face became an unexpected turning point. In that period of disruption, I eventually met my husband, and I am now expecting our first baby together only 2 years later. While my life did not mirror Eleanor’s exactly, I recognized her patterns in myself. More importantly, I didn’t just see when and where the change happened, but that it had happened at all. Somewhere along the way, without realizing it, I had become someone healthier, softer, and less isolated than the version of myself I once was.
Like Water for Chocolate – for the passionate woman in me
I read this book not long before I became pregnant. It was a compelling and unexpected read for me, especially since I do not usually gravitate toward magical realism. I like to consider myself a strong but calm person, and I value the level of patience and peace I have worked to build in my life. But in reading about Tita, her unspoken emotions, and how they found an outlet in her cooking, I began to understand that a woman’s inner world is never truly contained. My emotions, passions, and even silence have a way of reaching outward and shaping the people around me. It reminds me to stay connected to my own sense of passion and to remain intentional about what I nurture within myself. Like Tita’s cooking, the things we carry inside us rarely stay there – they move outward and shape the lives of the people we love, especially in the context of womanhood and motherhood.
Mercy Banquet – for the mother (and daughter) in me
What I appreciated most about this book was the dual perspective in which it is written, offering insight into both the mother and the daughter. It allowed me to reflect on my own experiences as a girl growing up, which was not easy for me. I did not have a healthy relationship with my foster mother, and even in trying to reconnect with my biological mother, I came to understand that the hope for that kind of relationship is not something I can realistically hold onto. Because of that, the story reminded me to be more mindful of my own daughters and their experiences. No matter how nurturing a life I try to give them, they are still little girls moving through their own version of the same stages. The book also does not shy away from the more difficult side of motherhood, especially the sacrifices and quiet struggles of being a single mother and doing whatever it takes to protect your children from repeating your own hardships. In the end, it served as a reminder that whether we are daughters or mothers, we are all still just girls experiencing life for the first time – only in different stages of it.
The Covenant of Water – for the growing woman in me
Becoming “motherly” can begin long before motherhood, and life can shape that instinct early through responsibility, protection, and survival. This is a lesson I learned as the oldest sister of four in the foster care system, and it is what first helped me relate to Little Amachi – a girl of twelve who, driven by a sincere desire to be a good wife and mother, remains composed despite her fear after being married to a widower of forty. The period I spent in foster care shaped me early, and I believe it is where my own mothering instinct began – out of a deep need to protect my sisters, who, at the time, were to me like my first children. Much like Amachi’s loyalty and resilience eventually become wisdom, I feel the same is true of my own. While my experiences did not lead me in the direction of medical school, they did lead me toward something different: patience, stability, and a sense of peace that now helps hold my family together.
One of the greatest gifts reading has given me is the realization that books do not stay the same. The words on the page may never change, but we do. The books that comfort us as teenagers may teach us something entirely different as mothers. The stories that once felt distant may suddenly feel deeply personal in ways we never expected. Every season of life reveals something new hidden within the same pages. These were the books that met me during pregnancy. Years from now, perhaps they will speak to me differently again. That is part of the magic of reading: we return to the same stories, but never as the same person.
To the women we were, are, and will become!
Paige Turner
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