Dear Librarians: A Letter from Danit Brown, Author of Television for Women

By Jennifer Rubins | April 7 2025 | From the Author

Dear Librarians,

I didn’t grow up visiting libraries. They simply weren’t part of my family’s routine. So when I finally wandered into one as an adult, it was out of necessity—I was seeking a quiet place to write. There, the low hum of conversation and—in the case of my local Ann Arbor branch—the plinking of a kinetic sculpture launching balls in an endless loop turned out to be just what I needed to concentrate.
Then I began paying attention not only to the shelves of books but also the rotating displays, the author events, and the bulging “book-club-to-go” tote bags. I realized at an embarrassingly advanced age what most people already knew: libraries aren’t just about the books on their shelves––they’re about the readers they nurture, the communities they bring together and help, and the conversations they foster.

There’s a special gratitude that comes from discovering this magic as an adult, which is why sharing my debut novel with you feels like a true privilege.

Television for Women began with nagging curiosity. Early in my teaching career, a colleague was dismissed for faking his Ph.D. While everyone else focused on the scandal, I couldn’t stop wondering about my colleague’s wife, who had recently given birth to their first child. They’d met around the time he’d received tenure, so how much did she know? How did his lies affect her? Did she feel betrayed, trapped, both?

Simultaneously, I was navigating my own rocky transitions into marriage and motherhood—realizing these experiences rarely unfold as neatly as depicted on television. “Why hadn’t anyone warned me?” I wondered. “Am I the only one who doesn’t know what I’m doing?”

Television for Women is about one woman’s search for the person she used to be as she navigates not just her husband’s big lie, but the profound upheaval of childbirth and the way it unravels relationships, expectations, and sense of self. It was my way of exploring what happens when the fragile stories we tell ourselves about our life—stories like “Of course I want a baby” and “I’m happily married”—fall apart, and how we find ourselves anew in the aftermath.

Thank you for being the connectors between stories and readers. I hope that you enjoy Television for Women and that it earns a spot on your shelves!

With gratitude,
Danit Brown

For fans of Nightbitch, a darkly humorous debut novel asks what happens when motherhood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be . . .

Estie isn’t sure she likes being eight months pregnant. She isn’t even sure she likes her husband anymore, especially after he hid that he’s been fired from his job. Hello parenthood! Goodbye life as Estie imagined it! Now, she’s stranded and bloated and alone. Her cat is not a people person, and on top of it all, her best friend has been ignoring her calls ever since Estie told her about the baby.

After Estie gives birth, she begins to suspect that all the stories she’s been told about motherhood might not be true. Having a child does not “complete” her. And that mythical connection with her baby? Well, she’s still waiting. In fact, Estie fears she is destined to end up like her own mother—divorced and crying in the bathroom while her daughter stands outside the door and wonders if she’s okay.

Startlingly honest and unsentimental, Television for Women explores the realities of life postpartum, the demands children make on women’s identities and relationships—and the desperate lengths someone might go to in order to reclaim the person she once was.