This doesn't seem to be a graphic novel as much as a collection of one- and two-page strips. There are no transitions or story flow or even context as the memoirist skips from anecdote to anecdote. In the end she gives more weight to "cute things my daughter says/does" strips than to the ones dealing with her bipolar condition and miscarriage. That misbalance results in page after page of the most mundane slice of life scenes. Reading the book felt like getting cornered by a chatty aunt at a family reunion. She natters along thoughtlessly, dropping family tragedy bombs into her drone of cute kitten and toddler stories, giving you an unstructured and maddening giant-ass information dump that just leaves you looking for a chance to escape her clutches. ( )