Reading Jen George’s The Babysitter at Rest is like having a heart-to-heart with the most bizarre babysitter you can imagine—a sly representative of a world that seems at first to be like yours but, upon inspection, reveals itself to be tinged with more weirdness, more darkness, and considerably more sex. Over the course of the five stories in her first published collection, George builds worlds that are strange but not unrecognizable. The central inhabitants of these worlds, namely women on the cusp of adulthood, struggle with aging, appearance, work/life balance, and motherhood, all while wondering how they stack up against those around them.

The most immediate escape George’s women have is frequent, unfettered sex, often with older men in positions of relative power. A second recompense is art, and the moments where George’s women translate themselves creatively are some of the highest points in the collection. In "Take Care of Me Forever," a dying protagonist paints imagined babies on her body; in the title story, the married mother of a child doomed to be a baby forever fills her courtyard with self-portraits that evoke Elsa Lanchester as Frankenstein’s bride. For these women, art is freedom, a way out (if only temporarily), from the pressure and judgment that comes as much from friends, lovers, and colleagues as it does from within. As George’s eponymous babysitter muses, “It’s a tremendous relief when attempting to make something.”

Dorothy, a publishing project.