The Worst Moms in Literature

Janet Fitch's harrowing bildungsroman offers not one, but four unfit mothers. When her bewitching, narcissistic mom is convicted of murdering a boyfriend, Astrid Magnusson is shuttled through a series of foster homes, each dysfunctional in its own way. One foster mother treats the 14-year-old Astrid as a sexual rival and takes extreme measures when her paranoia becomes manifest. Astrid is then taken in as a watchdog of sorts for a loving but... unbalanced actress. Though imprisoned, Astrid's mother Ingrid does her best to interfere with her daughter's happiness in any way possible, and when she tries to interfere with the bond Astrid has developed, the results are devastating. By contrast, living with a woman who doesn't want foster children but uses them as de facto employees is as good as it gets. Read movingly by Oprah Winfrey, White Oleander is an intense and mesmerizing meditation on the warped forms love sometimes assumes.

Novelist A.M. Homes was 31 when her biological mother, absent since her birth, decided to make contact. She sent word indirectly, through a lawyer, that she wouldn't object to hearing from Homes. Hesitantly, Homes initiated contact. Having imagined her mother glamorous and perfect, Homes was disappointed to discover a needy woman who believed, after three decades of absence, that the daughter she gave up should adopt her and take care of her.... She ambushed Homes at readings, traced Homes' address, and began planning a move to her city without Homes' invitation. She called, furious that Homes had not sent her a valentine, to suggest that Homes kill herself. Meanwhile, Homes' biological father — a married man with whom her mother had an affair — arranged clandestine meetings in hotels, stalled over whether to tell his real family and seemed at times more interested in reconnecting with his former mistress than his daughter.

The least the two could have given her was answers, but instead they gave her childish presents like lockets and sweaters. They're completely uncooperative when it comes to telling her their family histories, so she turns to libraries and genealogical websites to uncover her biological roots. In doing so, she begins to see her biological family line as an ancestral history that extends far beyond her parents, all the while realizing how her adoptive family's lineage has influenced her identity without the aid of genetics.

The bad mother in Neil Gaiman's children's fable isn't actually young Coraline's mother, but rather her "other mother." When Coraline enters an alternate dimension through a locked door in her flat, she meets her other mother, a paler, skinnier version of her own mother, with writhing Medusa hair. This other mother has filled Coraline's "other" room with fantastical living toys and stocked her closet with the bright clothing her real mother denies... her. Whereas Coraline's real parents feed her frozen entrees or exotic dishes she dislikes, her other mother makes a mean cheese omelet. The other mother's love for Coraline is real — she's constructed an entire world in order to trap her — but it's a nonspecific, acquisitive love that doesn't come close to the real thing. The selfish love might be tolerable in exchange for all she offers, but she's also got a nasty habit of stealing children's souls and locking them away for eternity. Sort of a dealbreaker. Gaiman is an immensely engaging reader, with distinct and evocative voices for all of his characters.

Nabokov was gifted when it came to portraying desperation subtly enough to elicit an uncomfortable mix of sympathy and contempt from his readers. Charlotte Haze — Humbert Humbert's landlady and, more importantly, Lolita's mother — is a fantastic example of a character you don't know whether to hug or slap. Oblivious and buffoonish, "the Haze woman" is an aspiring sophisticate who sees her daughter's predator as the embodiment of European elegance. Though... initially unaware of Humbert's dark motives for insinuating himself into her family, Charlotte nevertheless considers her daughter an impediment to seduction at best and an adversary at worst. Her self-consciousness is not mediated by self-awareness, and she dispatches Lolita to summer camp in order to be alone with Humbert, completely blind to his enormous distaste for her. Self-centered and hysterical up until her death, Charlotte Haze is the mother whose neglect made Lolita's story possible.

Frailty, thy name is Gertrude. At least, according to Hamlet, who modifies it to say "woman" in the actual play. Marrying your recently dead husband's brother is generally considered a faux pas, but marrying his murderer is really pushing it. Gertrude manages to do both. The prince of Denmark might not be renowned for his kind treatment of women (see: "Get thee to a nunnery"), but when it comes to Gertrude, his... ire's earned. There are many questions left unanswered as to whether Gertrude was an adulteress or complicit in her husband's murder, but even a generous evaluation of the queen paints an unflattering portrait. Gertrude's priority is her own security and status; at her best she's a weak and disloyal woman whose love for her son is not strong enough to protect him from her husband's wrath.

After separating from her alcoholic professor husband, Augusten Burroughs' mother Deirdre embarked on a journey of self-discovery. Under the care and encouragement of her particularly indulgent therapist, Dr. Finch, Deirdre began experimenting with her identity and sexuality, taking up first with a minister's wife and then with a fellow patient. Augusten was exposed to more intimate sexual details of his mother's life than most 13-year-olds could have withstood. At Dr. Finch's house,... where his mother deposited him upon realizing that her responsibilities as a mother were incompatible with her destiny as a famous poet, Augusten began a relationship with a man twenty years his senior, a match approved of by both his mother and Dr. Finch. Deirdre's narcissism was seemingly boundless, but it becomes clear as the book progresses that she is less of a woman in need of liberation and more of a seriously disturbed person in need of help. The accuracy of Burroughs' depictions of his mother and the Finches has been questioned and subjected to legal action, but purely as a character, Deirdre is a mother whose love you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy.