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A review by halschrieve
Get a Grip, Vivy Cohen! by Sarah Kapit
5.0
A sweet middle-grade novel about an autistic eleven-year-old girl named Vivy.
This epistolary novel follows Vivy's letters to her role model, knuckleballer VJ Capello. Vivy has had a fixation on the knuckleball pitch since she met VJ on a trip with her social skills group to a baseball game three years ago; while she pitches with her brother Nate, she is only invited to be on a baseball team when the coach of a local boys' team sees her at the park throwing pitches. Vivy's parents would prefer she join a girls' softball team-- and are extremely overprotective and nervous about her playing a sport at all-- but after a meeting with Vivy's therapist and some convincing, they allow her to play. And something else miraculous happens-- VJ Capello starts writing back, and, after checking with Vivy's dad, they start exchanging emails.
Vivy's autism mostly presents via difficulties with verbal communication and meltdowns triggered by sensory overload, which occasionally interrupt her practice or school. She references her parents using meltdowns as an excuse to not allow her to do things, and gives the impression that her parents and therapist can often hold her autistic behaviors over her head as if she's doing something wrong, only allowing her "rewards" like social activities and sports if she masks her autistic behavior. In some ways, she's able to present as "high-functioning," but readers get the impression that interacting in person may be different than writing words online. Vivy has been in special education environments for her entire education, and speaks about feeling underestimated and bored in these settings even as she is unable to complete the meaningless tasks set for her, while also feeling isolated from kids outside of special education classrooms. Her direct communication style, as retold by her in dialogue within the emails, is off-putting for some people, and she also isn't sure what to say in response to a lot of questions or prompts--but in her letters to VJ, she is effusive, eloquent, and passionate about the sport she loves.
Problems arise when Kyle, a boy on her team, starts bullying her. She writes to VJ about it, and VJ compares the sexism and ableism she's experiencing from parents and teammates to the racism he's experienced as a Black pitcher on a mostly-white team. Vivy appreciates his reassurances, but does not take his advice of telling someone else about the bullying. VJ gets more and more frustrated in his responses. And then something else happens-- Vivy gets hit in the head by a baseball, and now her mom says she can't play sports ever again! To make things worse, Vivy's brother Nate seems like he's never around--and he's keeping secrets from their parents, too. Vivy is upset, and in an email, she references the fact that VJ's having a bad season. This upsets VJ, and after they argue about the meaning of the word "fortunate" (relatable as someone who has had MANY arguments about someone misusing a word), he doesn't write back.
Can Vivy get back into baseball--and make amends with VJ?
I love the depiction in this book of an older person trying to be a responsible friend to a younger person, but still being fallible and taking things personally sometimes/not knowing what boundaries to set with a child/how to apologize for missteps in a friendship with someone with much less agency and power. The friendship between VJ and Vivy is totally sweet, and also comes across as two people trying to communicate honestly across generational/ power lines about a sport they both love.
Vivy's Jewish background is woven into the story; she misses games on holidays and thinks about things her rabbi has said about forgiveness. Her brother, it turns out, is gay; Vivy doesn't take long to accept him when he comes out to her, and it's a really cute moment.
What really is compelling about this narrative is that it's from the perspective of an autistic kid, without othering or dehumanizing language-- and it shows how parents and therapists can make mistakes and often do make mistakes, even with the best of intentions. I've read so many books about kids with disabled siblings or children where the role of caregiver is the one in the spotlight-- this is different. It recognizes Vivy's agency and desire to play sports as central to her wellbeing, and shows us her perspective without any muddying information.
Go sports-playing girls everywhere, and yay for books with autistic protagonists!
This epistolary novel follows Vivy's letters to her role model, knuckleballer VJ Capello. Vivy has had a fixation on the knuckleball pitch since she met VJ on a trip with her social skills group to a baseball game three years ago; while she pitches with her brother Nate, she is only invited to be on a baseball team when the coach of a local boys' team sees her at the park throwing pitches. Vivy's parents would prefer she join a girls' softball team-- and are extremely overprotective and nervous about her playing a sport at all-- but after a meeting with Vivy's therapist and some convincing, they allow her to play. And something else miraculous happens-- VJ Capello starts writing back, and, after checking with Vivy's dad, they start exchanging emails.
Vivy's autism mostly presents via difficulties with verbal communication and meltdowns triggered by sensory overload, which occasionally interrupt her practice or school. She references her parents using meltdowns as an excuse to not allow her to do things, and gives the impression that her parents and therapist can often hold her autistic behaviors over her head as if she's doing something wrong, only allowing her "rewards" like social activities and sports if she masks her autistic behavior. In some ways, she's able to present as "high-functioning," but readers get the impression that interacting in person may be different than writing words online. Vivy has been in special education environments for her entire education, and speaks about feeling underestimated and bored in these settings even as she is unable to complete the meaningless tasks set for her, while also feeling isolated from kids outside of special education classrooms. Her direct communication style, as retold by her in dialogue within the emails, is off-putting for some people, and she also isn't sure what to say in response to a lot of questions or prompts--but in her letters to VJ, she is effusive, eloquent, and passionate about the sport she loves.
Problems arise when Kyle, a boy on her team, starts bullying her. She writes to VJ about it, and VJ compares the sexism and ableism she's experiencing from parents and teammates to the racism he's experienced as a Black pitcher on a mostly-white team. Vivy appreciates his reassurances, but does not take his advice of telling someone else about the bullying. VJ gets more and more frustrated in his responses. And then something else happens-- Vivy gets hit in the head by a baseball, and now her mom says she can't play sports ever again! To make things worse, Vivy's brother Nate seems like he's never around--and he's keeping secrets from their parents, too. Vivy is upset, and in an email, she references the fact that VJ's having a bad season. This upsets VJ, and after they argue about the meaning of the word "fortunate" (relatable as someone who has had MANY arguments about someone misusing a word), he doesn't write back.
Can Vivy get back into baseball--and make amends with VJ?
I love the depiction in this book of an older person trying to be a responsible friend to a younger person, but still being fallible and taking things personally sometimes/not knowing what boundaries to set with a child/how to apologize for missteps in a friendship with someone with much less agency and power. The friendship between VJ and Vivy is totally sweet, and also comes across as two people trying to communicate honestly across generational/ power lines about a sport they both love.
Vivy's Jewish background is woven into the story; she misses games on holidays and thinks about things her rabbi has said about forgiveness. Her brother, it turns out, is gay; Vivy doesn't take long to accept him when he comes out to her, and it's a really cute moment.
What really is compelling about this narrative is that it's from the perspective of an autistic kid, without othering or dehumanizing language-- and it shows how parents and therapists can make mistakes and often do make mistakes, even with the best of intentions. I've read so many books about kids with disabled siblings or children where the role of caregiver is the one in the spotlight-- this is different. It recognizes Vivy's agency and desire to play sports as central to her wellbeing, and shows us her perspective without any muddying information.
Go sports-playing girls everywhere, and yay for books with autistic protagonists!