The Home-Maker by Dorothy Canfield Fisher

I finished a novel this weekend, my first fiction read in a very long time. I had forgotten how nice it feels to be submerged in a totally different world for a while. I borrowed the book from my CEO a few weeks ago. That morning, she had just finished it and was looking for a young mother to pass it along to. She told me it had made such an impact on her that young mothers should read it too. I will never pass on an opportunity like that, and I also already knew it would fit right up my alley.

Published in 1924, Dorothy Canfield Fisher’s The Home-Maker tells the story of Evangeline and Lester Knapp, a couple suffocating under societal expectations. Evangeline is a highly capable but deeply anxious stay-at-home mother whose relentless perfectionism is stifling her three children. Lester, meanwhile, is a gentle, observant soul who is utterly miserable and failing as a corporate clerk. When an accident leaves Lester confined to a wheelchair, the family’s survival forces a radical role reversal. Evangeline enters the workforce and discovers she is a brilliant, natural businesswoman who thrives in the fast-paced commercial world. Lester takes over the domestic sphere, where his patience, profound empathy, and natural curiosity finally let the children bloom. The novel brilliantly challenges the idea that tradition should dictate our roles, proving instead that the home requires a specific, deeply intellectual temperament to truly flourish. It is one of those books that keeps you reflecting for quite a while after you finish it.

The Intellectual Depth of the Home

Reading about raising children through Lester’s eyes struck a deep chord with me. I often feel like we treat the domestic sphere as something mundane and intellectually unstimulating, but I find it endlessly fascinating to see my daughter discover the world and learn new things. Also, for me, it truly is very rewarding and fulfilling. The way Lester approached his housework and children, with patience, genuine curiosity and love, really spoke to me as well. This is a shift I see a lot online already, but in all honesty, I am quite cautious when in corporate circles this topic is broached. I rarely speak to an intellectual businesswoman who openly talks about truly enjoying taking care of the home and her child(ren). I often feel the rush to agree that motherhood is wonderful in concept, but that we are ultimately eager and relieved to get back to work. Liking the intellectual challenge of motherhood seems almost taboo. It could also be my own perception, but I felt it when I was pregnant: the need to be strong and not show weakness, so now I take this with me when it comes to motherhood and homemaking. I do not want to be perceived as too soft in the environment I am working in. I hear myself downplaying how much fulfilment my days with my daughter and tending to our home really bring me. And it is truly something I am struggling with, trying to unlearn that self-assigned reflex. Because it always feels like betraying the other half of me, as a woman and a mother.

The Reality of the "Dual Pull"

The thing is, I find myself deeply resonating with both Lester and Evangeline. I love having a stimulating and intellectual career, but I also wholeheartedly feel an intrinsic longing toward the home. I am constantly stretched between the two, and I often wonder if there are other women feeling this specific tension just as strongly. Since the society of Lester and Evangeline Knapp, we women are now allowed to work just as men. Even more so, we are needed for the welfare of society and because it has become increasingly hard for normal families to live off just one income. But we never really handed our domestic duties back to be divided. My grandmother kept working despite having two daughters and society telling her she now needed to stay home. She was even forced to find herself a teaching job in Brussels because they would no longer have her in Bruges at the time. But when she died, my emancipated grandfather turned out not to be able to take care of himself. He did not know how to cook, nor how to use the washing machine. My mother took it upon herself, in addition to her full-time job, to do more of the same. And me, at the age of 25 when moving in with my partner in our own house, silently and even gratefully accepted the ironing board I was gifted by my parents-in-law so I could take over his laundry and ironing from his mother from now on. We are trying, and probably some couples are leading the way, but as an overall society, we are not there yet at all. This also stuck with me while reading the story of Evangeline and Lester; society was very much aware and clear on the fact that one could not do it all (working, keeping the home and taking care of the children), yet here we are many years later. Most of us are attempting to live a life that was not meant for us. If it feels like we are trapped in a system that doesn't allow us to truly thrive in either space, it's because it is meant for two different people instead of one.

The Outsourcing of Care and the Lost Village

The novel’s early commentary on the emergence of consumerism was incredibly interesting to me as well. As a family, we are actively trying to live minimally. I must say that having a baby comes with its own set of challenges when it comes to minimalism and actively trying to avoid overconsumerism. Beyond material things, in an attempt to find a way for both of them to work outside the home, Lester recognised that one cannot buy parental love. Is it not a bit weird that today we are so accustomed to the idea of leaving our children as early as 3 months with strangers for entire days, days on end? Even though I intentionally kept my daughter home with me until she was five months old, and I am incredibly grateful to have alternate Wednesdays off to spend with her, this baseline necessity is still difficult for me to accept. I see her thriving at daycare, but I really do not like the fact that it is a systemic necessity, the more that most do not even have the flexibility and freedom I had and have. It highlights how much we lack the tight-knit community that families in the past relied on—the "village" that Lester and Evangeline managed to find, even far from their own relatives.

Redefining Our Own Blueprints

The core message I am taking away from this novel is a liberating one: you shape your family life together the way you want to, not how tradition or society dictates. A household should be built around your shared aspirations and who you fundamentally are as people. I am still figuring out what that perfect balance looks like for our family, but The Home-Maker permitted me to stop apologising for loving the journey of finding it.