A tense, page-turning psychological drama about the making and breaking of a family–and a woman whose experience of motherhood is nothing at all what she hoped for–and everything she feared.

Blythe Connor is determined that she will be the warm, comforting mother to her new baby Violet that she herself never had.

But in the thick of motherhood’s exhausting early days, Blythe becomes convinced that something is wrong with her daughter–she doesn’t behave like most children do.

Or is it all in Blythe’s head? Her husband, Fox, says she’s imagining things. The more Fox dismisses her fears, the more Blythe begins to question her own sanity, and the more we begin to question what Blythe is telling us about her life as well.

Then their son Sam is born–and with him, Blythe has the blissful connection she’d always imagined with her child. Even Violet seems to love her little brother. But when life as they know it is changed in an instant, the devastating fall-out forces Blythe to face the truth.

The Push is a tour de force you will read in a sitting, an utterly immersive novel that will challenge everything you think you know about motherhood, about what we owe our children, and what it feels like when women are not believed.

This is one of those books that makes you wonder why you waited so long to read it. I loved Audrain’s The Whispers when I read it a couple of years ago, and I think part of me was nervous this one wouldn’t live up to the hype. It absolutely did. This is a razor-sharp domestic thriller that uses an unreliable narrator to devastating effect, and I could not put it down.

At the center of the story is Blythe Connor, a woman determined to be the kind of mother she never had. She wants warmth, safety, and love for her daughter Violet. Instead, she finds herself drowning in the exhausting early days of motherhood, and plagued by the creeping belief that something is deeply wrong with her child. Violet doesn’t behave the way Blythe expects. Her instincts tell her something is off. Her husband, Fox, tells her she’s imagining things.

And that’s where the tension really starts to build.

Audrain does an incredible job blurring the line between perception and reality. Blythe’s narration is told mostly through a sort of letter to Fox. Normally, this would turn me off, but in this case I found it to be intimate and convincing. Is Violet actually dangerous? Or is Blythe projecting her own unresolved trauma, anxiety, and possible mental illness onto her child? The book never rushes to answer that question, and the uncertainty is what makes it so effective.

This is very much a book about motherhood, but not in the glossy, inspirational way it’s often portrayed. It’s about resentment, fear, regret, and the pressure placed on women to love motherhood unconditionally. I’ve never been someone who wanted children, and reading this only cemented why. Blythe’s experience feels like a nightmare version of everything people don’t want to admit can exist alongside parenthood. That perspective made me more inclined to believe Blythe, even when the narrative suggested I shouldn’t.

When Blythe gives birth to her second child, Sam, the contrast is striking. With him, she feels the instant bond she always expected. That difference raises even more uncomfortable questions. Can a mother love her children differently? Are women allowed to admit that without being condemned? Audrain doesn’t offer easy answers, and she doesn’t let the reader sit comfortably in moral certainty.

The relationship between Blythe and Fox is another key element. Fox’s steady dismissal of Blythe’s concerns is chilling in its subtlety. He doesn’t come across as overtly cruel. He’s calm, rational, and confident, which somehow makes his disbelief even more damaging. The book explores how easily women’s voices are undermined, especially when they express fear, anger, or dissatisfaction with motherhood.

The pacing is relentless. Short chapters, escalating tension, and emotional gut punches pile up quickly. This is a true page-turner. I devoured it in a single sitting. The story keeps tightening until the fallout hits, and when it does, it’s brutal.

If you love domestic thrillers, unreliable narrators, and stories that dig into the darker corners of family life, this one absolutely delivers. It’s tense, unsettling, and unforgettable. Domestic thriller lovers, line up here.

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