My dad bought me this at the Edinburgh book festival (how nice!) and I only finished it because it was a gift. She has been very honest about her own (dreadful) experience but this is so far removed from my own feelings about my 15 month old's early days that I couldn't relate to it all. Sadly I think there must have been a level of PND, she was very isolated and then, I felt, snobbish when she did seek company. I'm glad I didn't read when I was pregnant. I can see it appealing to other mums who had a bleak time initially, but I didn't enjoy it, it reads more like an essay or dissertation than a novel and I was glad to finish it. Sorry Dad, thanks for the thought!