Anne Enright was married for eighteen years before she and her husband started having children. Already a confident, successful novelist, Enright continued to work after each of her two children was born; while each baby slept, those first two years of life, Enright wrote in dispatches about the mess, the glory, and the raw shock of motherhood. Supremely observant and endlessly quizzical, Enright "has pulled off that rarest of tricks: writing brilliantly about happiness" (Sunday Times).