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corydoesmath's review
5.0
This is a five-star book for the premise alone. It's a collection of letters written by adult adoptees to younger adoptees. It's the equivalent of the "It Gets Better" movement for LGBT youth and I wish I read it when I was 14. I'm especially pleased that a majority of the authors are transracial and from Asian countries.
The message is not unique. Letter after letter assures youth: "You're not alone. Your story is unique. Find other adoptees to talk to. It's not your fault. You're whole as you are." It's not the letters that are important, but the multiplicity - seeing a name, seeing the literal text of an experience you also experienced. The back of the book contains bios, blogs, and personal emails where the authors encourage people to reach out. Those opportunities for connections alone are worth a lot that no other book has offered me.
Two letters stood out to me above all others. They weren't written to the reader. They didn't assume the reader was lonely and depressed, as the other letters had. They offered new insights and were beautifully written.
1. Matthew Salesses' letter about paradigm shifts (excerpt below):
"This is what I was doing: I was testing what I knew about myself in terms of the paradigm I had. But the old rules don't fit anymore. The material is the same, but the sense I made of it has been completely called into question, and I will spend the next whatever number of years, decades, or forever, figuring out how all of me fits the paradigm that recognizes adoption at the center of it..."
2. J.S. London's short story called "The Inspiration Ice Cream Café and Tea Parlour" about a girl who happens upon a magical café inside a small box where you can meet the lost people in your life (excerpt below):
"I will tell my grandchild that the most magical things in the world happen in ordinary places, small places like this special café that was (like me) almost never born. I will tell them about how we met and shared ice creams and views of the Eiffel Tower and walked along the Siene. I will tell them about your stories, your dreams. Inspiration Ice Cream will be a part of their history, theirs to share, too. It will be a place where we can all meet, even those of us who never meet, the place where we will all remember, especially those of us who cannot remember."
Both of those excerpts deserve a lot more context and mulling over. They stood out because they offered unique ways for people of all ages to process grief, even those who are not adopted.
I hope it's obvious that you shouldn't read this book unless you are a 14-year-old transracial adoptee or someone who works with/knows 14-year-old adoptees. I just wanted to share the good this book is giving to the world.
The message is not unique. Letter after letter assures youth: "You're not alone. Your story is unique. Find other adoptees to talk to. It's not your fault. You're whole as you are." It's not the letters that are important, but the multiplicity - seeing a name, seeing the literal text of an experience you also experienced. The back of the book contains bios, blogs, and personal emails where the authors encourage people to reach out. Those opportunities for connections alone are worth a lot that no other book has offered me.
Two letters stood out to me above all others. They weren't written to the reader. They didn't assume the reader was lonely and depressed, as the other letters had. They offered new insights and were beautifully written.
1. Matthew Salesses' letter about paradigm shifts (excerpt below):
"This is what I was doing: I was testing what I knew about myself in terms of the paradigm I had. But the old rules don't fit anymore. The material is the same, but the sense I made of it has been completely called into question, and I will spend the next whatever number of years, decades, or forever, figuring out how all of me fits the paradigm that recognizes adoption at the center of it..."
2. J.S. London's short story called "The Inspiration Ice Cream Café and Tea Parlour" about a girl who happens upon a magical café inside a small box where you can meet the lost people in your life (excerpt below):
"I will tell my grandchild that the most magical things in the world happen in ordinary places, small places like this special café that was (like me) almost never born. I will tell them about how we met and shared ice creams and views of the Eiffel Tower and walked along the Siene. I will tell them about your stories, your dreams. Inspiration Ice Cream will be a part of their history, theirs to share, too. It will be a place where we can all meet, even those of us who never meet, the place where we will all remember, especially those of us who cannot remember."
Both of those excerpts deserve a lot more context and mulling over. They stood out because they offered unique ways for people of all ages to process grief, even those who are not adopted.
I hope it's obvious that you shouldn't read this book unless you are a 14-year-old transracial adoptee or someone who works with/knows 14-year-old adoptees. I just wanted to share the good this book is giving to the world.
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