Our unnamed narrator is the mother of countless children, also nameless, from several marriages, and the wife of the successful screenwriter Jake Armitage. The Armitages are building a glass
tower in the countryside where they first met, where their large family may or may not be able to live happily ever after. The Pumpkin Eater begins in a psychiatrist's office, and from
that moment, the narrator seems to dare us to diagnose her, and perhaps society as well, raising questions about men and women, sex and reproduction, but refusing to answer them. She testifies
to a life full not only of children-though the children are only occasionally seen or heard, their presence, intruding on a grim adult world of movie stars and doctors, adultery and depression,
is palpable-but also of bodies, grocery lists, nursery rhymes, messes, aging parents, memories, dreams, and breakdowns. Yet her voice is smart, raw, wry, and deeply sympathetic, and the prose
is surprisingly spare and elegant in this exquisitely surreal black comedy.
