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scholarship and a family she’s ashamed to invite to Parents’ Weekend. Tall, blond, and outwardly identical to her wealthy prep-school-educated classmates, her plan is to take the ten thousand dollars she’ll receive from donating her “pedigree” eggs and try to save her father from addiction…

Annie Barrow is a thirty-four-year-old working-class married mother of two who scrapes by on her husband’s single paycheck. After watching a TV show about surrogates, she thinks she’s found a way to recover a sense of purpose and bring in some extra cash…

India Bishop, thirty-eight (really forty-three), believes she’s found her happy ending when she marries a very wealthy and much older man, Marcus Croft, but decides that a baby will seal the deal. When all of her attempts at pregnancy fail, she turns to technology, and Annie and Jules, to help make her dreams come true…

But each woman’s plans are thrown into disarray when Marcus suddenly dies, and his twenty-three-year-old daughter Bettina is named guardian of the unborn child. As the baby’s due date draws near, these four women—with nothing and everything in common—discover what makes each of them a mother in her own right.

With her laugh-out-loud humor, startling tenderness, and spot-on characterizations, Jennifer Weiner once again takes listeners into the heart of women’s lives in America, in an unforgettable, timely tale that interweaves themes of class and entitlement, surrogacy and donorship, parental rights and the measure of motherhood.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781442362598
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Audio
Publication date: 09/10/2013
Edition description: Abridged
Pages: 6
Sales rank: 733,192
Product dimensions: 5.90(w) x 5.10(h) x 0.70(d)

About the Author

Jennifer Weiner is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of nine books, including Good in Bed and In Her Shoes, which was made into a major motion picture. A graduate of Princeton University, Jennifer is the executive producer for the ABC Family show State of Georgia. To learn more, visit


Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Date of Birth:

March 28, 1970

Place of Birth:

De Ridder, Louisiana


B.A., Princeton University, 1991

Read an Excerpt


The man in the suit was watching me again.

It was March of my senior year in college, a clear, chilly afternoon, when I felt what was, by then, the familiar weight of a man’s gaze, while I sat by myself in the food court. I looked up from my dinner, and there he was, at the end of the line for the salad place, looking at me the way he had for the past three weeks.

I sighed. The mall was one of my favorite places, and I didn’t want to give it up because of some creep.

I’d found the mall my freshman year. If you walked off campus, across Nassau Street and into a kiosk in the center of town, you could buy a discounted ticket with your student ID, and the bus would take you to a fancy shopping center with a fancy name, the Princeton MarketFair. There were all of the chains: a Pottery Barn and a Restoration Hardware, and Gaps, both Baby and full-grown, a Victoria’s Secret where you could buy your panties and a LensCrafters where you could pick up a pair of sunglasses, all of them in a sprawling, sterile building with marble floors and flattering, pink-tinted lights. At one end of the mall was a big, airy bookstore, with leather armchairs where you could curl up and read. At the other end was a movie theater that showed four-dollar matinees on Mondays. Between them was the food court.

Shortly after my discovery, I’d learned that only losers used public transportation. I’d found this out when I heard two of my classmates scornfully discussing a date that a girl we all knew had been on. “He took her to the movies. On the bus.” Giggle, giggle ... and then a quick look sideways to me, for my approval, because, tall and blond and with two juniors on the varsity crew team vying for my affection, I couldn’t possibly fall into the busgirl’s category.

The truth was I liked the bus, and I liked the mall. It felt real, and Princeton’s campus, with its perfect green lawns and its ivy-clad, gargoyle-ornamented, stained-glass-windowed buildings, and its students, none of whom seemed to suffer from acne or obesity or even bad-hair days, felt like a film set, too wonderful to exist. On campus, everyone walked around as if they’d never had a second of doubt, an instant of feeling like they didn’t belong, carrying their expensive laptops and textbooks, dressed just right. People at the mall did not look as if they’d just stepped out of catalogs. Their clothes were sometimes stained or too tight. They walked past the shop windows yearning after things they didn’t need and couldn’t afford: end-of-their-rope mothers snapping at their kids, boyfriends sighing and shifting their weight from foot to foot as they lingered outside the dressing rooms at Anthropologie, teenagers texting each other from a distance of less than three feet away across the table; the fat people, the old people, the ones with walkers or oxygen tanks or wheelchairs—all of them reminded me of home. Besides, I could practically be guaranteed to never see anyone from school there—not on the bus, for sure; not at the movie theater, at least in the daytime; definitely not scarfing kung pao chicken from China Express. Maybe my classmates came here to buy things, but they never stayed long, which made the mall my secret, a place where I could be myself.

Most Mondays, when my classes ended at 2:00, I’d take the bus and I’d browse in the stores, maybe trying on shoes or a pair of jeans, and I’d see a matinee of whatever movie looked interesting, then have dinner in the food court, or at the sit-down seafood restaurant if I’d managed to pick up some extra hours at my work-study job in the admissions office. For less than twenty dollars, I could make a whole afternoon and early evening pleasantly disappear.

I looked up from my plate again. The man was holding his briefcase, standing in profile, looking like he was trying to decide what to do next. It could, I knew, go one of two ways: he’d keep staring, or he’d work up the nerve to cross the tiled floor and say something.

When I was thirteen, my father sat me down and gave me a little speech. “There’s something you should know,” he’d said. We were in the family room, half a flight down from the front door, a room with pine-paneled walls and mauve-colored carpet and a glass-topped coffee table on which there were a decade’s worth of yearbooks, one for every year my father had been the yearbook advisor at McKinley Junior High.

“What’s that?” This was in the fall; I’d been wearing my soccer uniform; shorts and shin guards and a sweatshirt I’d pulled on for the bike ride home. My dad was in his worn black recliner, a glass of ice cubes and whiskey in his hand, still dressed in the coat and tie he wore to school. My mom was in the kitchen making baked chicken—she’d dip each piece in a mixture of buttermilk and mustard, then roll it in cornflake crumbs. That chicken, along with Rice-A-Roni and a cut-up head of iceberg lettuce doused in bottled ranch dressing, was my favorite meal, and all I wanted was to take a hot shower, pull on my sweatpants and a too-big T-shirt, eat my dinner, and get to my homework. For the first time, math was actually hard for me, and I knew I’d need at least half an hour to get through the problem set we’d been assigned.

My dad ducked his head, sipped his drink, and said into the knot of his tie, “Men are going to look at you.”

This wasn’t news to me, and hadn’t been for a while. “It’s not your fault, Julia,” said my father, pulling off his glasses as he spoke. “It’s what men do. It’s how we’re wired, maybe, men and women. We’re programmed to notice each other.”

I’d flicked my ponytail over my shoulder. I was already five foot four inches of the eventual five foot nine I’d reach. My hair was thick and butterscotch blond, and that fall I’d graduated from a training bra to an actual B-cup, and started junior high. These events combined made me feel as if my body wasn’t really me anymore, but something I lived inside; a borrowed blouse I’d snuck out of my mother’s closet, something I needed to treat carefully and could, if I was lucky, one day return.

Men will look, my dad had said, watching me with a mixture of love and regret. Sometimes, he’d quote a line of Yeats, about how “only God, my dear / could love you for yourself / And not your golden hair.” It made me feel strange, a little proud, a little ashamed, especially because the truth, which maybe he’d guessed, was that men were already doing more than looking: they’d hoot, they’d whistle, they’d make sucking, smooching sounds when I was alone, walking home from school, and they were in their cars. One of my classmates, Tim Sather, seemed to have decided that his mission in life was to snap my bra strap as often as he could, and Mr. Traub, the gym teacher, would wrap his arms around me, letting his jogging-suited torso press, briefly but firmly, against my back as he helped me with my volleyball serve. That summer I’d been wearing my swimsuit, a dark-blue one-piece, and running through the sprinkler with the Lurie kids, whom I’d been babysitting at the time, and I’d looked up to find Mr. Santos, who lived next door to the Luries, staring at me over the top of his fence with his mouth hanging open. A few weeks later, my older brother, Greg, had gotten in a fight at the town park’s swimming pool. When my mother had fussed over his black eye and swollen cheek, demanding to know who’d started it, Greg had muttered that the boys had been saying stuff about me. My mother hadn’t asked him anything else, and I’d been embarrassed, unsure of how to behave. Did I thank Greg? Did I ask him what the boys had said, if I’d done anything to provoke it? Finally, I decided to say nothing, to pretend the whole thing had never happened. That seemed like the smartest thing to do.

The worst part wasn’t the boys; it was the girls, the ones who had once been my friends. She thinks she’s sooo pretty, I’d heard Missy Henried sneer to Beth Brock one day at lunch after Matt Blum, staring at me across the cafeteria, had almost walked into a table. Like I’d asked for him to stare. I had a mirror, and I’d seen enough magazines and TV shows to know that I was what was considered good-looking, maybe even beautiful. But the beautiful girls on TV or in those glossy pages all seemed happy. They never looked lonely, like their faces, their hair, their bodies were traps keeping them apart from everyone else. I couldn’t figure out why I felt guilty when boys stared, like I was lying, or offering them something I didn’t really have. All I knew was that Missy and Beth and I had been Brownies together; we’d trick-or-treated every October, giggling in the costumes that had turned us into cheerleaders or witches or Pink Ladies from Grease, posing on Missy’s front porch while her father struggled with his video camera. Now I was their enemy. Now they were on one side of a wall, and I was on the other.

“So what am I supposed to do about it?” I asked my dad. Back then, I thought he knew all the answers. Our house was full of books he’d read, biographies of presidents and scientists, thick hardcover novels with approving quotes from The New Yorker on their backs, different from my mother’s mysteries, which were bright paperbacks with actual people on the covers and titles spelled out in foil.

He’d patted my shoulder. “Just be aware.” Almost ten years later, whenever I felt a man’s eyes passing over me—sometimes lightly, like water, sometimes like the high whining of a mosquito in my ear—I’d remember my father, mumbling into his tie, my father, when he was still all right. Love you, sweetheart, he’d said, and hugged me, the way he hardly ever did since my breasts had gotten bigger than bug bites on my chest.

In the food court, I speared a maraschino cherry on my chopstick. The man in the suit made up his mind, walking away from the salad stand, heading straight toward me. I thought he was in his late thirties, maybe his forties, with dark, curly hair and a handsome, coddled face.

I bent over my dinner, hoping he’d just keep walking, and began the time-consuming process of separating the chilies from the chunks of chicken and pineapple, wondering whether he’d work up the nerve to say something or if he was just cruising by for a closer look. When I looked up again he was standing right in front of my table for two, with nothing to eat.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Do you go to Princeton?”

I nodded, unimpressed. I was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that said Princeton right across the chest. No makeup, except a little lip gloss and the mascara and eyeliner I never left the dorm without, because my lashes are so sparse and fine that they’re basically invisible without a swipe or two of Lash Out, and my eyes are such a pale blue-gray noncolor that they tend to blend into my forehead without liner, giving my face the look of an underbaked pie.

“You like it there?” he asked. I nodded again.

He lifted his briefcase and moved as if he was going to sit down across from me. I edged my metal-legged chair backward, preparing to tell him, politely, that I needed to finish my dinner and get going because my friends were waiting, when he asked, “Do you play any sports?”

This was a surprise. I’d been betting an either What’s your major or Where are you from ... either that or he’d ask me for help, the most common ploy. At the mall, guys would ask which movie I’d seen and if I’d liked it, or if I could help them pick out a necklace or a sweater for their sister or their mom. At the gym, guys would point at the controls for the StairMaster, feigning confusion. Hey, do you know how to work this? In the grocery store, they’d need my assistance picking out pasta or plums. At the gas station, they would require directions; in class, they’d want to know if I’d read the assignment, if I had plans for the weekend, if I’d read this book or heard that band. I know this makes me sound as if my life was a nonstop parade of men who were dying to talk to me, but it’s just the truth. When you look a certain way—blond and tall, with D-cup boobs, with wide-set eyes and a straight nose, and full lips that are dark pink even without lipstick—men want to talk to you. Usually they ask you out, and twice in my life, once in this very mall, I’d been asked if I was a model.

“Field hockey and lacrosse,” I said. I’d played both in high school, but not since.

The man sat down, uninvited. “Are you twenty-one?”

I narrowed my eyes, one hand on the strap of my backpack, wondering whether he was going to propose something illegal or seamy, like phone sex or stripping. Up close, he was older than I’d thought, older than he should have been if he was hitting on a girl my age, maybe forty-five, with a plain gold wedding band on his left hand, and I didn’t want to have dinner with him, or give him my number or my e-mail address or tell him where I lived or let him buy me a drink or a frozen yogurt; I just wanted to finish my food and go back to my dorm room, avoid my boyfriend, curl up with a book, and count the days until graduation. That was when he smiled.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Jared Baker,” he said, and stuck his hand across the table.

I shook it quickly. The skin of his palms felt as soft as I imagined the skin on his face would. I got to my feet, never mind that half my dinner was still sitting there. “Excuse me, but my friends are probably waiting for me.” I had my tray in one hand and my backpack in the other when Jared Baker said, “How would you like to make twenty thousand dollars?”

I paused. My skin was tingling. Illegal, I thought. It has to be. “Doing what? Smuggling drugs out of Mexico?”

His smile widened so that I could see his teeth. “Egg donation.”

I set my tray back on the table. “Sit,” said Jared Baker, coming around the table to pull my chair out for me. He looped my backpack’s straps over the chair and did everything but spread a paper napkin in my lap. It was a funny performance, like a parody of a man tending to a wife who was fragile as an egg. Or who was carrying fragile eggs. “Eat your dinner.” He frowned at the plate. “Skip the spring roll, though. Saturated fats.”

Looking him right in the eye, I dragged the roll through the slurry of Chinese mustard and duck sauce I’d made, and took a giant bite. His grin widened. “Moxie,” he said. “That’s nice. People like a girl with a sense of humor.”

“Are you serious?” I asked once I’d swallowed. “Twenty thousand dollars for an egg?” I’d seen ads, of course, in the school paper, online, and on fliers posted in the student union and the library. Families seeking egg donors. All expenses paid. Please help make our dreams come true. But I’d never noticed the fee for the egg itself, and I’d never guessed it would be so high.

Jared Baker was friendly, but not smarmy, serious and calm as he asked me more questions: Where had I grown up? What were my SAT scores? Had I ever had an IQ test? Had anyone in my family had cancer or diabetes or mental illness? I gave him the numbers and said no to the illnesses. He pulled a notebook out of his briefcase and asked if I had siblings, how old my mother had been when I was born, and how much I’d weighed as a baby. I was careful with my answers, thinking about what he’d want to hear, what story would go best with the girl he was seeing, a tall, blond, jockish girl in a Princeton sweatshirt who was eating by herself only because her friends had finished first and were waiting for her in the bookstore.

“Ever been pregnant?” he asked, the same way he’d asked if I was a vegetarian or if heart disease ran in my family. I shook my head, ponytail swishing. I’d only had sex with three different boys, an embarrassingly low tally at my age. I was starting to think that I was one of those people who didn’t like sex very much. Maybe it made me lucky. I wouldn’t spend my whole life getting my heart broken, chasing after this guy or that one.

“And are you single?”

I nodded, trying not to look too excited, to give the appearance that men stopped by the food court to offer me piles of cash every Monday I went to the mall, but my mind was racing, imagining what I could do with twenty thousand dollars, a sum I hadn’t imagined possessing unless I won the lottery or married very, very well. Even with the investment-banking job I was going to take after I graduated, I’d have to manage rent in New York City and start paying back my loans, so the idea of having five figures’ worth of discretionary income was new to me, extraordinary, and alluring.

Jared Baker handed me a business card, a rectangle of heavy ivory paper with embossed letters on top that said PRINCETON FERTILITY CLINIC, INC. His name was underneath, with telephone numbers and an e-mail address. “Be in touch,” he said. “I think you’d be an excellent candidate.”

“Twenty thousand dollars,” I said again.

“Minimum,” he repeated. “Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind telling me your name?”

“Julia Strauss,” I said. “My friends call me Jules.”

“Jules,” he said, giving me another appraising look and shaking my hand again.

So that was how it started: in the Princeton MarketFair, over a Styrofoam plate of sweet and sour chicken and a spring roll that I never got to finish. It seemed so simple. I thought that selling an egg would be like giving blood, like checking the Organ Donation box on your driver’s license, like giving away something you’d never wanted or even noticed much to begin with. And yes, at first, I was just in it for the money. It wasn’t about altruism, or feminism, or any other ism. It was about the cash. But I wasn’t going to blow it on clothes or a car or a graduation bash, on Ecstasy or a trip to Vail, or Europe, or one of the hundred frivolous things my classmates might have chosen. I was going to take that money and I was going to try to save my father ... or, more accurately, I was going to give him one last chance to save himself.

© 2011 Jennifer Weiner

What People are Saying About This

From the Publisher

“Weiner has emerged as one of the biggest names in popular fiction.” —USA Today

“Jennifer Weiner’s bestselling novels twist humor and topical issues into can’t-put-down stories. Her latest follows the lives of four women who explore conflicting notions of family and motherhood.” —Houston Chronicle

“The conflicts enmeshing all these characters...are gripping, and Weiner’s elucidation of socio-economic determinism is as sharp as ever.” —Kirkus

"A savvy tale… told with equal parts love and longing—whether it be for a partner, a purpose, or a family." —Publishers Weekly

“Compelling...a page-turner. Enjoy this title for its humor mixed with a sympathetic portrayal of real women’s lives and challenges.” —Library Journal

“In this warm and winning yarn, Weiner draws readers into the lives of each woman, and brings them together in an unexpected and ultimately rewarding way. Another surefire hit for the popular author." —Booklist

"Then Came You offers an eye-opening perspective on parenthood in an age where the family is ever evolving." —BookPage

“If you’re a Weiner fan you’ll lap it up. And if you don’t know her yet, here’s the place to start.” —The Washington Post

"Weiner's ability to mix humor, drama and the simplicity of real life makes her newest novel her best to date. The characters are relatable and universal, and readers will remember them long after the last page. With writing that flows like a conversation between best friends - effortless but meaningful - Then Came You is the perfect summer read." —The Houston Chronicle

"Weiner brings her trademark wit and humor to this lively story." —Parade

Customer Reviews

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Then Came You 3.5 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 1062 reviews.
theReader278 More than 1 year ago
I loved reading this book. It has a story that will keep you entertained for hours.
Life_Long_Reader More than 1 year ago
I usually enjoy reading Jennifer Weiner. However this new book, written in conjunction with the author writing for a sitcom, was so disappointing. Too many characters, too many shifts in point of view, and too little connection with the characters. There were times where I had to look at the chapter heading and think-Which character is this? Not a good thing. I think the main problem is that the characters didn't have a distinct voice. They all sounded alike. I had little empathy for any of them and felt some of a cliche. In addition, there was a lot of back story shoved into the character's chapters--this slowed the pacing down and I found I was skipping paragraphs altogether. Sorry, Jennifer, this was a miss for me.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I am a huge fan of Jennifer Weiner. I especially loved Good in Bed, In Her Shoes and Best Friends Forever. I'm sad to admit that I didn't love this novel as much as I hoped I would. I didn't hate it, I just felt like I couldn't get close to the characters. Typically in all of her past books I was able to connect with the main character and route for them the whole way, but I didn't really care about any of these women. I liked the concept, and there was plenty of humor to go along with the drama, but overall the book just didn't quite click with me. This is a good beach read, and I would recommend it to any fans of the author. If you've never read a book by her, I would suggest checking out one of the other books I mentioned earlier in the post. (Review copy courtesy of the publisher via Simon & Schuster GalleyGrab)
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Weiner crafted a very well-written story. The characters came across as very honest and genuine. The plot of the novel, while it could have easily become bogged down by the mundane or unimportant, flowed crisply and really kept me engaged. I couldn't put this novel down because I was so invested in the characters and the plot. Weiner also evoked much emotion from me. I laughed aloud at portions of this book. I also cried. Then Came You was absolutely fabulous! Written like a Jodi Picoult novel with different narrative voices or points of view, Then Came You tells the story of four women, with little in common, who become hopeless entangled with each other through a surprising common bond: a child. With infertility and science at the core of this novel, Then Came You is surprisingly emotional. How each of the four women come together to play a role in the life of this child is both beautiful and heartbreaking. I love all of Jennifer Weiners novels, and this is no exception. Great stories about characters you can care about; they are flawed just like the rest of us, but they have great heart and Jennifer tells a good story that really engages me. I look forward to the next release.    
KrittersRamblings More than 1 year ago
Another great story by Jennifer Weiner. A story with women at the center and the issue of bearing child - whether the inability or the women who help those who can't, I felt that this book was a great tribute to how women can create communities with very little in common. With each chapter based on a different character - it was easy and enjoyable to get to know each one and then see their stories mix and mingle. A topic that is still working on becoming acceptable as conservation - infertility and everything that is involved in it. Suragocy, egg donation and the inability to have children is the center of each of these women's stories and I have always be intrigued by this subject that women have to deal with it on a daily basis. Some women worry that their significant other may leave them if they can't have children and some have worries when it comes to trying to help. I think this is a topic that we should continue to talk about because with each conversation the stigma will slowly diminish and women can feel more confidant in the decisions that they may have to make to create a family. Without spoiling too much, there was one part of the book that my conservative friends and followers may not be too keen on. If you are one of those - please keep reading, the whole of the story is way more impactful while bypassing one part. Another bestseller from Jennifer Weiner that will be enjoyed by women of all ages.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I truly enjoyed this book, really couldn't put it down! Well written and the characters are wonderful.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great book. Loved it. Just couldnt put it down, so good. I loved India's character the best. She had a horrible childhood but she made up for it through her love for her daughter! Loved the way the author bought u into the lives of each character.
thecollector0 More than 1 year ago
i enjoyed reading this one. I won't spoil the plot, but will only say it will keep you interested all the time.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I'm conflicted by this book. While it is a well-written page turner, it tries too hard to push the limits of every awkward family scenario imaginable. And the storylines were so heavy and sad as Weiner wove these women's lives together. In the end, for me, it felt forced and overly contrived.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book is great ! :D
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Another writing that isn't and can't be literature and is trite and contrived. I love good escapism as well as great literature. This is neither.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Captavates a girl based audience
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Then came you is a stupendus book with fascinating kids and their stories. This book seized my attention and I felt like I could never stop! So if you are looking for a book that may just make you never stop,this is the book for you
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I have only read the smple so far but i have already decided that i am going to buy this book. Mainly because it is not suger-coated and tells life how it really is.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
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scoutlee on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
When Jules is first approached about donating her eggs, she¿s dubious. Despite being a senior at Princeton with a bright future ahead of her, Jules has harbored a family secret. Her father, once an upstanding and respected teacher, was arrested for drunk driving. Since his arrest, he continues to battle his alcohol addiction. As a result, he lost his marriage and his children. Jules begins to reconsider the offer to donate her eggs. With the money she receives, she¿ll be able to pay for the help her father so desperately needs.India is married to Bettina¿s father Marcus. Bettina is highly protective of her father and thinks India married him for his wealth. Bettina thinks everything about India is fake, including her name. She hires a private investigator to dig into India¿s past. What she finds is quite startling.Annie is a young mother of two boys. She¿s happily married to Frank, although financial problems weigh them down. To help out, she decides to become a surrogate. The money will go towards their debt and monthly bills. Annie has her family¿s best interest in mind, however Frank feels threatened by the money and the new relationship she¿s forming with India.Told in alternating chapters, the reader is able to delve into the lives of these four women. Normally I prefer novels that are written this way, especially if there are multiple narrators. For some reason, it didn¿t work for me with Then Came You. And here¿s why: despite being in different life stages, the women¿s voices sounded the same to me. It was hard to differentiate between the characters. Several times, I had to return to the first page of the chapter to remember which character was speaking. Despite the introspective look into each woman, I never felt connected to the characters. When India¿s secret is finally revealed, it wasn¿t as shocking as I thought it could be.The path that eventually leads the women to each other is bumpy. The choices each have made along the way have come with consequences. In the end, the book wrapped up a bit to neatly for me.
voracious on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
"Then Came You" is an interesting multiple perspectives novel that explores the lives of four women involved in anonymous donor with surrogate adoption. The storyline follows the egg donor, the surrogate, the adoptive mother and the adoptive mother's step-daughter as their lives collide with the eventual birth of a child. As with Jennifer Weiner's previous novels, the characters are fully developed. Even the characters who appeared unlikeable in the beginning, eventually become likeable by the end. Though not as funny as some of her previous novels, this one explores the relationships and struggles of daughters and mothers in a deeper way. I really enjoyed this book, particularly because at one point 3/4 through the story, I really had no idea how the story would end. I do think the ending was unrealistically positive, but it made for a feel-good novel that makes you want to hesitate before jumping to conclusions about other people.
suetu on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
In some ways a departure, and in other ways notI¿ve been a fan of Jennifer Weiner¿s since her debut novel. The first word that comes to mind to describe her work is ¿funny.¿ She always seems to be able to find the humor in any situation, so clearly is was a deliberate choice to leave the funny out of her most recent novel. Then Came You looks at surrogacy from a variety of perspectives. There¿s the 20-year-old college student who becomes the egg donor; the cash-strapped military wife and mother of two who acts as the surrogate; the gold-digging trophy wife who will be this miracle of modern science¿s mother; and also the trophy wife¿s adult step-daughter. Each of these women has very different lives, problems, strengths, and weaknesses, and each will play a vital roll in bringing this child into the world. Ms. Weiner is an accomplished story-teller, so the story goes down easy. It¿s a quick, enjoyable read. I have read interviews where the author discusses some of the questions she had about the economics involved in these transactions. These are interesting questions, worthy of exploration. And these issues are explored within the novel, but gently. Story wins out over social agenda.As noted, I did find Then Came You to be a diverting read, but I will be hoping for a few more chuckles in the next novel. Still, Jennifer Weiner is among the very best at telling contemporary women¿s stories.
amhamilt on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Nice, easy read. I can't say that it kept me enraptured, but I was able to finish it in a couple of days. It was a breezy chick-lit book that didn't require a whole lot of extra thought.
mountie9 on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
The Good Stuff * many glimpses of Jennifer Weiner's wonderful sense of humor very much apparent, not enough for my personal taste, but its still there * Love that the character of India wasn't stereotypical trophy wife, she actually had some depth and you could see how she came to be the way she was * very realistic and honest relationships * Really enjoyed how all the stories came together so well * Loved the ending - actually cried (It was a little shmaltzy - but not horribly) * Good character development * Like that many different family units were included and done so matter of fact, without prejudice, very refreshing - to quote Barlow "Not every family needs a Mr and Miss" * Engrossing summer read * Some surprises that I wasn't expectingThe Not so Good Stuff * Not enough of Weiners brilliant humor - but hey I guess the subject matter doesn't really jive with the humour * Storyline jumps a little and I felt lost a couple of times * Many of the characters I had a hard time feeling a connection with as they are from worlds I know so little about (obviously the privileged world). I also had a hard time understanding the choices they made, as they are so very different from choices I would make * Bettina's mom was despicable to me, wanted to smack her upside the headFavorite Quotes/Passages"If he kissed you, you'd know you were kissing a man, not one of these pampered, facialed metrosexuals who could tie scarves better than a Frenchwoman and talk knowledgeably about moisturizers.""They never hired ugly people in places like these. How they got around the civil rights laws I have no idea, but I had never seen an unattractive bartender or waitress or coat-check girl in any of he best restaurants in Manhattan." "I wondered again why the teachers made this assignment, why they'd sent the kids home with a family tree with spaces for mother and father but no room for alternate configurations, when, in addition to the twins-by-surrogate, at least two kids in Rory's class had two mommies, one had two daddies, on one little girl in the second grade had parents who'd divorced their spouses and marries each other, which surely made for some pretty awkward parent-teacher conferences."Who should/shouldn't read * Fans of Jodi Piccoult will definitely enjoy - guess I will be getting a copy of this for my niece for Christmas * Perfect summertime read * Obviously fans of Weiner will appreciate4 Dewey'sWanda (Bookalicious) sent me for the YMBC (Yummy Mummy Book Club) twitter chat in exchange for an honest review. Looking forward to discussing with you on Wednesday
booktwirps on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I am a huge fan of Jennifer Weiner. I especially loved Good in Bed, In Her Shoes and Best Friends Forever. I¿m sad to admit that I didn¿t love this novel as much as I hoped I would. I didn¿t hate it, I just felt like I couldn¿t get close to the characters. Typically in all of her past books I was able to connect with the main character and route for them the whole way, but I didn¿t really care about any of these women. I liked the concept, and there was plenty of humor to go along with the drama, but overall the book just didn¿t quite click with me. This is a good beach read, and I would recommend it to any fans of the author. If you¿ve never read a book by her, I would suggest checking out one of the other books I mentioned earlier in the post.(Review copy courtesy of the publisher via Simon & Schuster GalleyGrab)
coolmama on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
I was surprised how much I enjoyed this Jennifer Weiner book - as her books are usually light and fluffy.This one was told from 4 different perspectives: Bettina, India, Jules and Annie - 4 women who are connected to the birth of a baby girl in some way.A fast read and enjoyable.
gincam on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
"Then Came You", by Jennifer Weiner, is about those who are privileged to have the power of choice, and those who make the most of their own very limited choices. Egg donation, surrogacy, awakening sexuality, substance abuse, the role-reversal of an adult child caring for a parent, and loves both lost and found all play a role in the lives of four very different women. The people in this story, both the men and the women, are not perfect. Some are really rather unlikable. However, they are all interesting. They become even more interesting as the story line unfolds and the reasons behind their life choices become apparent. The way that their lives intertwine and eventually join forces to create a remarkable new human being is very involving. I have some very strong personal feelings about surrogacy and parental responsibility. My own mother and father stayed together less than a month after they were married. Mom moved back home with her parents and never saw my dad again. I was on the way by that time, and I was raised by my grandparents and my mother. Three parents make for an uncomfortable triangle. I didn't know that my grandparents were actually my legal guardians until many years after they had both passed away. My mother had given them my guardianship, but she felt conflicted about how to handle their involvement. I only saw my dad twice in my life, and that was after my grandparents had passed away. I was in my twenties, and I initiated the contact. We spoke on the phone for over ten years, but I was never a part of his life. He never told anyone about me. I have never met anyone from Dad's half of my family. However, my grandparents were the people I was meant to be with, and they are the ones who loved me, wanted me, and made me the person I am today. I am very thankful to them, always! The most important gift anyone can give a child is not just love, but love combined with acceptance and appreciation of the child as an individual. To know that someone sees you and loves you just as you are is the greatest gift of all.Review Copy Gratis Simon & Schuster
cmeilink on LibraryThing More than 1 year ago
Every once in a while, a book comes along that stands out from the rest. When all of the elements--unique story, outstanding characters,and excellent writing--combine to form a book that you simply can't put down and don't want to end. Then Came You is such a book.India marries Marcus, a wealthy man who she loves more than she ever thought possible. He's considerate, loving, and more than anything else, makes India feel wanted and secure. India wants a baby, but she has problems carrying a pregnancy to term. Annie, married, a mother of two and happily living in an old farmhouse, could use some money to help out her husband and two sons. Jules needs money to send her father to rehab. The lives of these three totally different women intersect when Jules donates an egg and Annie acts as surrogate for a baby for India. India and Annie establish a relationship, checking in with one another, having lunch, and talking on the phone and everything seems to be moving along nicely until Bettina, one of Marcus' children from a previous marriage, decides to have too perfect India investigated. What happens after Bettina receives the results of the investigation throws the lives of all of these women upside down as the baby's future becomes uncertain.A wonderful, wonderful book, and one which I highly recommend.