Alice Bradley

1 week ago | alicebradley.substack.com | Alice Bradley

I am an enormous fan of being the parent of an adult. Sure, parenting a child is rewarding, but there’s so much sleep deprivation and negotiating and yelling about math! And then you get to the teenage years, which I would advise skipping. They’re no good for anyone. Outsource them. Boarding school? Military academy? Governess. OK, fine, I guess you’ll have to grit your teeth and get on with it, I’m so sorry.

1 month ago | alicebradley.substack.com | Alice Bradley

This one is going behind the paywall, because there is NEWS and TENDER PERSONAL things and other REASONS to CAPITALIZE. A lesson I keep learning and re-learning is that good things don’t have to be hard. I learned this when I fell in love with Scott, after years of putting up with subpar boyfriends (why did I rename this guy “Mark,” in that essay? His name was PAUL, and he SUCKED. I am really feeling ALL-CAPS today).

2 months ago | alicebradley.substack.com | Alice Bradley

Yesterday I woke up and saw that I had texted the following note to myself: “A fond response.” I was flummoxed. Fond response to what?!And then I remembered. But first, some backstory. I just finished ’s Animal Instinct, which was terrific—funny and engaging and steamy. While reading I kept thinking, not in a million years could I write sex scenes like these.

2 months ago | alicebradley.substack.com | Alice Bradley |Karen Walrond

A couple of faithful blog readers have been requesting this one, so here you go. It is not for the squeamish but people seem to like it, the sickos. (’s husband Marcus still knows me as the “one who mooed.” ) I wrote this when Henry was three, and now he’s 22. He watched me perform this at a reading when he was 12. I don’t think it scarred him too much. It was fourteen days exactly before the baby was due. I was at my weekly midwife appointment, and I was leaking.

Mar 28, 2025 | alicebradley.substack.com | Alice Bradley

You know when your adult child comes to visit for a couple of days, and you’re so excited to see him? And you’re like, I need to impress him with how cool we are, so he comes more often? So you go to a modern art museum and resist regaling him with stories about how he used to cavort among the Rodins at the Brooklyn Museum when he was an adorable preschooler. But you think it. You think it hard.