Eat, Read, and Be Mommy

I cannot remember the last time a book grabbed hold of me the way Benjamin Ludwig’s Ginny Moon did.  That isn’t to say that I haven’t read some amazing and engrossing books lately–I have–but this one was different.  Ginny is an autistic, adopted foster child who narrates her own story, and she held me from the get-go.  It’s partly her anxiety and her very, very literal outlook on her world, but it’s also her background.  My family was involved in foster care when I was in high school and college, and the level at which those experiences came rushing back as I read astounded me.  Children who remember their birth families, who remember being removed from the homes of their birth families, are torn in a way that the rest of us can’t begin to truly comprehend.  All of my experiences as a foster sister slammed into my added experience as a mother full force; the resulting level of feeling unnerved me.  Being objective as a reviewer may honestly be an unattainable goal.

That being said, I was impressed by this book.  The arc of my feelings for Ginny’s foster/adopted mom was considerable; when my hatred reached its peak, I forced myself to consider my own postpartum depression and what Maura knew and didn’t know versus what I did.  Ginny as a naive narrator is amazing (although I admit, I’ve had a weakness for those since the first time I read Huck Finn as an 8-or-so-year-old), and her autistic voice was pitch perfect to me.  (Not that I have much firsthand experience there, to be fair.)  The setting felt real, real, real, from the woodpile at the edge of the yard by the woods to the Cumberland Farms on the corner.  My friend Britt pointed out that Baby Wendy’s developmental timeline is definitely hinky, which I can’t deny, but that didn’t bother me terribly.  (It took me a bit to figure out why, since after four kids I’m usually irritated by that sort of thing.  In the end, I decided that it’s Ginny’s book, and the details that are off accomplish their purpose all the same.  They tend to be symbolic of Ginny’s restrictions and experiences; what matters is whether or not Ginny is allowed to help, not so much the details of what she does.)

Britt, as part of an adoptive family, was also outraged at Ginny’s adoptive parents’ varying levels of commitment (or lack thereof).  That bothered me as well–seriously bothered me–but coming from a fostering family instead of an adoptive one eased my outrage a bit.  The essence of Ginny’s situation and the events of the book IS foster care, in many ways, and that tends to be just plain messy, with no easy answers (or, sometimes, terribly acceptable ones).

Ultimately, I was emotionally blown away by Ginny Moon.  (I’m SO beyond grateful that I didn’t make the mistake of reading it pregnant–OR with a newborn.)  Some of that is what I brought to the reading experience, but not all of it–not by a long shot.  You should read it, read it, read it.  I just hope you love Ginny herself as much as I did.

Complimentary copy received for review