Barnes & NobleThe Long Answer: A Novel by Anna Hogeland

An emotional, beautiful, deeply personal book

Thank you, Riverhead, for thinking of me for this book and sending it my way — you were right, I loved it. The Long Answer is a sad, beautiful, deeply personal book of stories within a story. Our narrator, who shares the author’s first name, is an MFA student expecting her first baby. The book begins when her sister calls to tell her that she’s had a very early miscarriage. That serves as a jumping off point for her to tell Anna about her best friend’s recently revealed past. In the next section, a young woman from Anna’s prenatal yoga class tells Anna her story. And so on — as Anna’s own difficult journey unfolds, she comes to nearly collect women’s stories about children they had, or didn’t have, or couldn’t have, or wished they’d had. Somehow, this book manages to be absorbing but also unhurried; it flows like water but begs not to be rushed. Especially as you hit the halfway point, which rings like a gong and redirects the river more directly into your heart. I found myself completely absorbed in each woman’s story, forgetting, temporarily, that we were inside another novel. And after each one ended, my appreciation for this novel grew. The structure and stories here illuminate the deep, universal connections between women forged by pregnancy, motherhood, and grief. It’s about many parts of womanhood that people don’t talk about, yes, but also so much more than that. It’s also about sisterhood (literal sisterhood, like with her sister), which was another element I loved. I am not a mother, nor have I attempted to become one, and yet this was still very emotional and deeply resonant. It will likely be a difficult read for many, but I imagine it could help release locked-up portions of a heart as well. Thank you, Anna Hogeland, for giving us so much of your heart so generously. CONTENT AND TRIGGER WARNINGS: Pregnancy; Miscarriage; Grief; Fetus with severe congenital abnormalities; choice of D&E; Abortion; Infertility; Body hatred, allusion to an eating disorder