Send Me into the Woods Alone
Erin Pepler
Non-fiction
Invisible Publishing, 2022
208 pages
ISBN: 9781988784892
$20.95
Reviewed by Tianna Vertigan
Everyone fantasizes about flying the nest sometimes—even helicopter parents. Self-described type-A control freak, Erin Pepler has twice been diagnosed with the “medical condition” of pregnancy, making motherhood “the most miracley of miracles” and the focus of her hilarious essay collection Send Me into the Woods Alone.
Erin is in her mid-20s when the soon-to-be-mom pushes through a 50-hour labour. She brings home an easygoing daughter and soon diagnoses herself with imposter syndrome, spending the next 18 months incredulous that her first experience is going so well: “I agonized over oat cereal and very little else.” Then she gives birth to a son, which is a breeze by comparison—unlike his “hurricane” nature.
Pepler targets her parental audience and channels a self-help tone to make clear that mothers are not a monoculture; they all possess different skillsets. For example, she is brilliant at making lunches, but not so good at imaginative play: “Board games are a magical respite for someone like me who feels deadened by pretending to be a horse.”
Her authenticity complements her wit and brevity and often results in vivid dream-like prose: “Timed sprinklers bathe the lawns of the wealthy, giving the street a glossy sheen as my headlights move through the falling night. My car groans as I crest each hill, its aging engine making itself unapologetically known as I cruise neighbourhoods.”
Insights on postpartum anxiety and the range of “acceptable” emotions during public/digital displays of motherhood are illuminating. Pepler hosts nuanced discussions about invisible labour and shares her fleeting fantasy of being a park dad to illustrate how gender norms harm all.
Send Me into the Woods Alone insists that motherhood doesn’t exist in a vacuum, but rather intersects with geography, occupation, relationships, religion, and depends on point of view: “To the grown-ups in my life, I’m a writer with a background in marketing. To my children, I’m a singing painter who makes exceptional soup and scones. Both of these perceptions are true.”
Pepler investigates Audre Lorde’s term “self-care,” by asking if we can critique consumer culture while still recognizing the value of a confidence-boosting manicure. Sometimes self-care is a double-edged sword: “I curl up under a blanket on the couch and read until my eyes burn … Sleep isn’t the same as rest. I need both.”
As its title suggests, the collection’s eponymous essay is about occasionally stepping away to relieve pressure and gain perspective. Other clever titles, like “Why Mommy Drinks,” ask readers to consider how popular culture continually suggests mothers should and do drink to escape their kids, rather than because it pressures them to do so.
Of course, a mother alone in the woods is still a mother—one is never truly in the clear: “I’d handed over my baby, but my brain had not, and there I was, mindlessly comforting a plate of pasta salad, rocking my lunch to sleep.” Pepler admits to once feeling her children were an “extension” of her body, but she never treats them as such; they are real characters of their own on and off the page.
Pepler ends with a few guiding principles for her children Some are elementary—“Wealth doesn’t equal worth”—while others are absolutely critical: “Your life won’t be made better by shooting a rhino. You’re better off punching a billionaire.”
Erin Pepler is a freelance writer and “reluctant suburbanite” living outside Toronto with her husband and children. Her work has appeared in Today’s Parent, Parents Canada, Savvy Mom, Romper, Broadview, and Reader’s Digest. In 2022, 49th Shelf listed Send Me into the Woods Alone as one of the Top 22 Books of the Year.
