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Adoption is hard to write about. That may sound odd, considering how many novels involve an adoption premise 鈥� from "Bleak House"听 to Harry Potter and every other heroic orphan in a children鈥檚 series. Then there are the boatloads of recent memoirs, many written by adoptive parents going to China, Russia, or fill-in-the-blank.

But books about adoption, be they gung-ho celebrations or harrowing tales of woe, tend to gloss the truth. Not because authors are deliberately self-serving, but because they can鈥檛 rein in their own biases. Adoptive parents, birthparents, and adoptees have very different perspectives, which means most personal accounts of adoption only offer one slice of a big and messy pie.

Jennifer Gilmore鈥檚 new novel, "The Mothers," is a surprising exception.听 She doesn鈥檛 attempt to encompass every point of view. Yet, with scalpel-like precision, Ms. Gilmore takes apart the standard adoptive-parent narrative.

Despite the title, her 2013 novel is not focused on what birthmothers want, and that鈥檚 a good thing. There are no guilty adoptive-mom fantasies of poor women giving up their babies for a better life. Instead, almost-40-year-old narrator Jesse obsesses that the 鈥渂irthmother, that most fragile bird, might fly away.鈥�

In their quest for a baby in a domestic open adoption, Jesse and her husband Ramon care about 鈥渢he mother鈥� (and the shadowy birthfather who might nix the adoption) mainly as a means to an end. Jesse admits to herself that she鈥檇 just like to throw money at the problem, that she鈥檚 sick of writing 鈥淒ear Birthmother鈥� letters about how much she loves to bake pies. At one point, she bristles:

鈥淎m I allowed to ask where I fit in here? There is a woman who gives birth and that is not I. And then she is in our lives 鈥� Ramon鈥檚 and mine, ours, whatever that life will look like 鈥� however she chooses to be. I accept that, but 鈥� when do I get to be the mother?鈥�

And yet, Jesse and Ramon are likable. They鈥檙e flawed in the ways many good parents are. What I admire most about this novel is its truthfulness about their inner lives.

In broad strokes, my husband and I experienced much of what these two have already soldiered through by the beginning of "The Mothers": miscarriage, hormone shots, failed IVF treatments, fraught discussions about what kind of adoption to pursue. In our case, we opted for international adoption, partly 鈥� as Gilmore makes clear 鈥� because that was easier a decade ago.

Regardless, Jesse and Ramon鈥檚 travails are familiar to me. But that鈥檚 not why I like "The Mothers." In fact, I was prepared to not like it, and I don鈥檛 love the 鈥渄ocu-novel鈥澨�(from the Kirkus review)听aspect of Part 1. Close to a hundred pages, more than a third of the book, is spent on the couple traveling to and sitting through a weekend adoption training session in North Carolina.

They鈥檙e New Yorkers, an American Jew and an Italian-Spaniard, and they have a predictably听crappy听time. They (and readers) are thrown a lot of information about open adoption and why private domestic adoptions no longer amount to a finger snap. There鈥檚 brooding about the past, too 鈥� Jesse鈥檚 recovery from cancer years before, meeting Ramon in Italy, his curse-spouting mother. But I wasn鈥檛 hooked until they go home to Brooklyn again, with their beloved elderly dog.

Because it鈥檚 a novel 鈥� not another memoir by an adoptive parent, thank God 鈥� and it鈥檚 a very good novel despite the leisurely setup. As Jesse frets about calling local social services for their home study, and Ramon tells her 鈥淸i]t will get done,鈥� she snaps, 鈥淏y magical fairies? We need to get on it.鈥� The last paragraphs of Part 1 convey much more about what they鈥檙e feeling than they know themselves:

I looked at my watch. 鈥楲ook at the time,鈥� I said to Ramon.

听Neither of us moved. In the hallway the scream of our downstairs neighbor鈥檚 child shot through the house. A car alarm went off on our street.

I lay down on the couch next to my husband, my elbows sharp on my knees. 鈥業t鈥檚 so much later than I thought,鈥� I said, and just like that, the afternoon light slipped out of the living room, and the gray of winter crept in."

Gilmore is a gifted novelist (her "Something Red" was a New York Times Notable Book in 2010), but the success of this highly personal fictional world is not just a matter of good dialogue and a knack for details.

Other recent novels with adoption themes by well-known authors have foundered. Lorrie Moore鈥檚 2009 A Gate at the Stairs, for example, skewers its adoptive mom in a way that would be refreshing if readers actually got a peek at her thoughts. However, that mother is viewed satirically through the eyes of a college-age nanny, with all sorts of darkness but no clarifying light.

What Gilmore achieves is a tight focus on this couple鈥檚 relationship, and their competing wishes and selfish acts. It鈥檚 not a matter of whether this is 鈥渢rue to life鈥�; it鈥檚 that I believe in these characters. Gilmore is brave enough to allow Jesse to be angry, neurotic, cynical, and an astute observer of her own desires:

鈥淚f everything about being a mother is a memory鈥攖he memory of your own childhood evoked by the sounds and smells and touches of your child and the air and substance that surround her鈥攖hen working hard to become a mother is about the imagination, an unknown future."

That鈥檚 how a novelist thinks of the world. It鈥檚 about the stories we all tell and the fantasies we weave, based on uncertain memories and wishes for what we never had. But in "The Mothers," I especially welcome this perspective. It鈥檚 a tonic for simplistic notions about why adoptive parents do what they do.

Gilmore wrote this novel while going through her own 鈥渓ong adoption process鈥� with her husband. In the press materials that accompanied my review copy, she鈥檚 asked in a Q&A why she wrote a novel instead of a memoir. Her response:

鈥淚 felt I could see this couple more clearly 鈥� and perhaps be harder on them 鈥� if they were fictionalized. The issues that adoption brought up for me [were] better suited, in my experience, to the novel.鈥�

Yes. I can think of very few adoptive-parent memoirs in which the narrator admits to Jesse鈥檚 cavalcade of self-doubts and delusions. I鈥檓 not sure it鈥檚 possible in a book-length memoir about adoption, given the pressure to shape real-life complexity into a narrative arc that ends happily.

"The Mothers" suffers from some of the same limitations, too. Jesse鈥檚 (and Gilmore鈥檚) musings about what it means to be 鈥渢he mother鈥� in contemporary society are heavy handed. Still, I enjoyed Jesse鈥檚 weary take on the gaggles of oblivious stroller-rollers, happily chattering about breastfeeding and yogurt pops.

It鈥檚 the obliviousness of middle-class biological families that can feel so hurtful if you鈥檙e on the outside. At one picnic viewed through Jesse鈥檚 eyes, the hordes of young parents with babies and toddlers and mammoth barbecue grills seems like an alien Stepford world. Her friend Helen, with an infant 鈥済runting at her nipple,鈥� has the gall to tell Jesse that holding babies helps women get pregnant. Then:

鈥淗elen popped Ryan off her breast, which for some reason didn鈥檛 make him howl, and she held him out to me. I had no choice but to take him, cradling him in the crook of my arm, as I looked out at the party."

If only Gilmore had taken this a step farther. Jesse and Ramon recognize their outcast status, and are by turns wry and raging and sorrowful. But Jesse also seems willing to march right back into Stepford as soon as she gets her child.

Gilmore hints that the one mom with an Ethiopian adoptee at that picnic isn鈥檛 part of the crowd and likely never will be. But for Jesse, getting there is all that matters. It鈥檚 as if the gates of heaven will open, her doubts will be expunged by the white glare, and she will then become an oblivious mother angel like all the rest.

Such feelings are absolutely realistic. But the narrative becomes smaller here, less wise. Those of us who have already gone down the adoption road know that Jesse鈥檚 story is only beginning, whatever the outcome. I鈥檇 admire "The Mothers" even more if it weren鈥檛 so focused on the adoption process itself 鈥� the getting, the wanting, the end point-that-isn鈥檛-the-end.

Waiting for a child, whether biologically your own or through years of paper work, is certainly steeped in fantasy. But for me, the wanting wasn鈥檛 everything. I spent time trying to imagine what my child would think of me as he or she grew older and how we鈥檇 talk about adoption and what it means to have more than two parents.

A recording of my mental monologue at the time would reveal a river of selfishness and fear 鈥� Will he hate me? Will I hate him? Will he leave me forever? 鈥� but I felt far less agonized than Jesse about 鈥渨hen do I get to be the mother?鈥� I was more worried about being saddled with the care of another human being for the rest of my life.

In her Q&A, Gilmore rightly emphasizes that adoption 鈥渋s often about loss鈥�:

鈥淎ll parties are grieving. Adoption is not for the faint of heart. You will be wrecked. You will go beyond whatever limits you felt possible 鈥� financial, emotional, perhaps even ethical. If you stick with it, you will likely get your child, but it will not be an easy road.鈥�

It鈥檚 true that adoption isn鈥檛 a magical solution for infertility, and private domestic adoption has never been a quick-and-dirty way to score a kid. But Gilmore鈥檚 鈥渞eal life鈥� explanation belies the complexity of her novel. Parenting itself is not for the faint of heart. It pushes us all to our financial, emotional, ethical limits. I鈥檝e been wrecked, but not because I鈥檓 an adoptive mom.

The silver lining to adoption, especially of a child who doesn鈥檛 look like you, is that you know from the start that he鈥檚 not you. He鈥檚 his own person. Yet you love him, you care for him, in a way that goes far beyond romantic love and selfish need. For me, that鈥檚 the central mystery at the heart of all family stories.

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