Reviews

Lapte negru by Elif Shafak

ciniscineris's review against another edition

Go to review page

emotional hopeful inspiring reflective sad medium-paced

4.0

inaakata's review against another edition

Go to review page

emotional reflective

5.0

mirasunshine's review against another edition

Go to review page

challenging emotional informative inspiring reflective medium-paced

4.25

aliciagriggs's review against another edition

Go to review page

2.0

I wanted to like this so much more than I did. It was only in the "okay" category. I liked when she wrote about different women and their experience of motherhood (or decision not to be a mother) and a writer, but I found the different "harem within" parts incredibly tedious and annoying. Ended up skipping these parts.
Perhaps this book would mean more to me if I was a mother but then again the whole reason I read this was to get a perspective of motherhood and postnatal depression. It didn't do it for me, I'm afraid.

kruppam's review

Go to review page

4.0

"Today, we do not speak or write much about the face of motherhood that has been left in the
shadows. Instead, we thrive on two dominant teachings: the traditional view that says motherhood is
our most sacred and significant obligation and we should give up everything else for this duty; and the “modern” women’s magazine view that portrays the quintessential “superwoman” who has a career,
husband and children and is able to satisfy everyone’s needs at home and at work.
As different as these two views seem to be, they have one thing in common: They both focus
solely on what they want to see, disregarding the complexity and intensity of motherhood, and the way
in which it transforms a woman and her crystal heart."

balconyflowers's review against another edition

Go to review page

Too dark and depressing

gallant_crony's review against another edition

Go to review page

4.0

In a remarkably poignant memoir about her travails, Elif Shafak sketches her journey from being a spinster to a mother. The blurb describes the book about Elif’s battle with post-partum depression and yet spans the challenges of being a woman in a man’s world. Although part-autobiographical, Black Milk must be considered a work of literature. It is sated with stories of notable women, it is sewn together by the escapades of Elif’s little selves who she calls Thumbelinas, and it is packed with a narrative that is a ride to self-discovery.

Of course, I can say that this book would largely cater to a female audience, but hey, let’s not define stereotypes, shall we? However, I would highly recommend all women to read it. Simply because the spine of the story is something all women can relate to. Black Milk starts with Elif telling her mother that she got married in a different country without telling anyone, and at the end of the chapter discovering that she is going to be a mother. In classic Elif style, the book jumps across timelines and parallel narratives. She tells two stories in one book – her own and that of a host of other women writers of history.

The narrative goes back to the time when Elif was a single woman with matrimony as not only a distant dream but also an unwanted burden. Like all women even she felt pressurised by society to marry a man in order to be accepted. However, the fearless woman and free-thinker that she was made her resist all pressure. She describes a scene where aboard a steamboat she wrote The Manifesto of a Single Woman and I couldn’t help chuckling. That manifesto should be secretly distributed among women if the men are to be taken over, I believe. The manifesto says, among others:

How is it that, even though marriage needs a woman and a man, and being unmarried is a condition that applies to both sexes equally, the term spinster has different—and more negative—connotations than bachelor?

Women who have been “left on the shelf” should have their dignity returned and be applauded for daring to live without a man to watch over them.

Change and changeability are life’s alphabet. The vow to stay together “till death do us part” is a fantasy that runs against the essence of life. Besides, we don’t die only once. It is worth remembering that human beings die many deaths before dying physically.


See where she’s going with this? After being single for a while, Elif’s little selves start quarreling with each other. These Thumbelinas are tiny women which embody her characteristics furiously. While her practical side is called Little Miss Practical, her Sufi side is called Dame Dervish, and her sexy side is called Blue Belle Bovary. It makes plain sense to have the Thumbelinas narrate her personal story. Don’t we all have our own facets that surface from time to time? Yes, we do. Women are multi-crusted people – they have feminine, motherly, wanton, responsible, scared, practical, impractical sides that make up their being. And that is why Elif’s conversation with each of her Thumbelinas are both engaging and insightful. At some times she is thick friends with Miss Highbrow Cynic but when she wants to trust her gut she rushes to Dame Dervish.

When Elif is battling with herself, life strikes her and she meets the love of her life in a bar. Elif is still studying at a university in the United States when her personal life gets serious. She marries her husband as she knows that she is in love with him. And then, yes, she gets pregnant. The aspect of depression is not discussed at length but her reasons to be depressed are. Elif keeps asking herself the question a fellow author asked her when she visited her house, “Do you think a woman could manage motherhood and a career at the same time and equally well?” This question plagues Elif up until her pregnancy and even after delivery. And that is why post-partum depression.

On one hand, Elif discusses her fears and conflicts between her Thumbelinas and on the other, she tells us a basket full of stories about how women writers across the ages have tackled this question. Black Milk is a crash course on the lives of distinguished women writers such as Anais Nin, Zelda Fitzgerald, Alice Walker, Loiusa May Alcott, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Enid Blyton among others. About Sylvia Plath post her pregnancy, Elif writes:

In the repetitive rhythm of daily habits, she felt both elated by and frustrated with her motherly duties. Her husband, in the meantime, continued frequenting literary events they used to attend together. He carried on with his life as it had been, writing his poetry, making new contacts, fortifying his fame. Perhaps fatherhood was not as great a rupture in a man’s life as motherhood was in a woman’s. Or perhaps, she suspected, it was just their own unique situation.


And after her marriage with Ted Huges fell apart Sylvia took her life in her own hands.

Often she started the day at four in the morning—the one or two hours that she had to herself before the children woke up were the most precious time of the day. The poems she wrote during those months are perhaps her brightest—such as “Medusa,” “Daddy” or “Lady Lazarus,” where she shocked her readers by saying, “Dying / Is an art, like everything else. / I do it exceptionally well.” At the kitchen table, in the bathroom or in bed under the covers, she wrote wherever and whenever she could, scribbling furiously in her extra-careful hand, at an incredible speed—as if she were racing against God, against the men she loved and loved no more, against her numerous shortcomings, each of which she despised.


What about men? What about the men who lived with these women who pursued writing? And what about men, in general, all over the world? Do they expect women to be Goddesses and handle everything in life gracefully? This is not a feministic book, but I think subtly it asks a very important question – why don’t men support women the way their women do? And what if a woman cannot be that perfect idol of crystal, will you take her off your trophy shelf and let her fall to the floor? Will you?

Fortunately, this book does not herald a revolution, but it makes being a woman seem like what it really is – a Herculean task. The good news is, this world is filled with so many of them. So many Hercules. And you called it a man’s world? Oh the irony!

Black Milk, in my opinion, is necessary reading for all women. But it is compulsory reading for those women who want to be writers or already are writers. Like all stories, one must make sacrifices but one must also fervently hope that, above all, you can muster the courage to go after what you want in life. After all…

Take a step forward, move on, fall down, stand up, go back to walking, trip over and fall down on my face again, pull myself up, keep walking . . .


Originally Written Here: http://bookhad.wordpress.com/2014/03/14/black-milk-elif-shafak/

lorenadraghici's review

Go to review page

5.0

Am inceput sa citesc aceasta carte intrigata fiind de titlul sau oarecum neobisnuit. Am sfarsit prin a o lasa foarte greu din mana intrucat m-a cucerit aceasta incursiune in lumea feminitatii, a rolurilor complexe ale femeii (mama, sotie, gospodina), dar si a presiunilor si conditionarilor sociale impuse acesteia. Sunt foarte multe trimiteri catre scriitoare care s-au confruntat cu toate aceste aspecte si pe care au incercat sa le solutioneze sau sa le impace in felul propriu (unele au renuntat la maternitate pentru a continua sa scrie, altele au devenit mame, dar s-au instrainat de copiii lor, iar altele au incercat un armistitiu intre mama si scriitoare). Bineinteles ca, oricat de interesant ar fi subiectul, daca n-ar fi existat talentul de povestitoare al autoarei si umorul cu care isi relateaza experienta proprie, probabil ca aceasta carte ar fi fost doar un alt studiu despre vocile feminine marcante din literatura.

shrooqxii's review against another edition

Go to review page

emotional informative

3.0

chwilaksiazki's review against another edition

Go to review page

5.0

Rzadko spotyka się książki o tej tematyce, na pewno nie jest to jedno z łatwych zadań. Ale Elif tak umiejętnie pisze, łączy ze sobą światy realny i psychiczny, że przez te książkę się po prostu płynie