The Long Form, which Briggs refers to as the "essay parts," is partially a reaction to Tom Jones and adopts a similar format that breaks up fictional narrative with expansive nonfiction passages. She also uses all caps with the lavishness of a novel from the eighteenth century; in one passage alone, the word "love" appears numerous times. Thus, it presents the novel form as it has rarely been presented before, with a lengthy series of short chapters, some as brief as a sentence. It is ostensibly about a single day in the lives of a new mother and her infant. It does this through its recursive structure, subtle connections and reverberations, attention to physical and social life, and lively conversation with other works of fiction and theory.

The Long Form is technically fiction but often veers toward essay. In this, it resembles a book delivered that morning to Helen’s door, interrupting a coveted moment of calm. In the gaps of time Helen can find to read it, we learn that Fielding’s novel also moves between forms and that it, too, addresses the subject of child-rearing, at least for a few chapters. But, as Helen muses, whereas Fielding’s protagonist arrives as an orphan without history, speeds through infanthood, and becomes a young hero, in reality, babies do come from somewhere, and they exert their own wills before they can walk or speak, even as they depend on a cast of care-giving others. I found the style worked for a time, but it made it difficult to maintain interest in the whole book. ( )

A book about what a novel or could be melded into the story of a day in the life of a woman and her new baby. ( )

I have to confess, a few hours into The Long Form I was finding it tedious and plodding - a wonderfully written exploration of a new mother's day, world, and memories, but ultimately one that didn't seem to be going anywhere. However, as the book began to unfold what was revealed was a beautiful and intricate tapestry, weaving this day in a life and reflections with the structure and history of a novel. Looking at what it means to be a novel and what it means to bring a life into the world, Briggs looks at narrative and structure from an incredible number of angles. By the end of the book I was rapt, absorbed in this small world and the galaxy of thought that accompanies it. ( )

I picked this book up because my first child is due early next year. I’d tried dipping into a more typical pregnancy/infant care book given to us by a friend called Baby 411 or something like that; but I quickly realized that I was actually interested in a more introspective version of what it was like to be a new parent. In that, Briggs’ book was perfect. It’s filled with lots of interesting observations on what it means to be a new parent, especially for people from a generation who were mostly agnostic on the fact of even having kids in the first place. I also like that Briggs named her sources, both in the text and in an extensive annotated list in the back of the book. It’s always nice to learn something “concrete” from a work of fiction - from The Long Form I learned of the work of D.W. Winnicott, who I will certainly be checking out, as well as Bruno Munari, an early 20th century artist who made mobiles that later became famous for their benefit in helping newborns develop their vision. I ordered a Munari mobile for my little one because of this book.

It’s always nice to encounter a work of art exactly at the time in your life that it was meant for. This book sometimes indulges in the kind of vague, impressionistic writing that seems en vogue these days, sacrificing clarity for what is supposed to be a kind of ticker tape of the mind. It also includes a whole side story of an Amazon delivery driver that seems out of place. But it was a nice little primer for what I’ll be going thru very soon, and an uncommonly deep perspective on a topic that isn’t often the focal point of literature. ( )