https://paigestrickland.substack.com/publish/posts/detail/138320643/share-center
I know it’s been a while (too long) since my last post about adoption themes in books, but believe me, I am reading every day, (when I am not working, child-caring, elder care-giving or cleaning my house). Reading is my thing and has been my thing long before I became an educator, care-giver or home owner. Teachers often say that kids learn to read and later read to learn. I live to read and also read to live.
You know how we often say we sometimes find our pets and other times our pets find us? It’s also true about books. We find books, but some books find us. I was found by two stories recently: Worst Case Collin by Rebecca Caprara and All the Broken Pieces, by Ann E. Burg. I was drawn in by their titles and book cover designs. Then I started reading. What a treat!
Worst Case Collin is not specifically about adoption, but there happens to be a significant supporting character (Collin’s best friend) who happens to be an adoptee. Some may call her a literary trope, but I disagree. Collin is a junior high-aged kid who is going through serious episodes of grief and loss after his mother dies in a car accident. At one point, Georgia, his close confidant, confesses a long-kept secret to Collin, exposing her own grief and loss sentiments as a show of empathy. She tells Collin that she is adopted and ashamed of it and feeling awkward and guilty about her curiosity regarding her birth mother and what happened to all the people she may never get to meet. (Incidentally, the story takes place in the state of Arizona, which has very “messy” adoptee rights laws, however it is unclear if Georgia’s birth/adoption occurred in that state or elsewhere, and it’s not pertinent to the main message of the story anyway. However, it compelled me to look up adoptee laws/rights in AZ and wonder whether or not the author did any research about that prior to developing the character of Georgia.) So while Worse Case Collin is not about adoption directly, it addresses the subject in terms some adoptees can relate with such as that craving for truth and wonderment about the family that never was and how those lost connections can make you feel isolated and filled with disenfranchised grief. Georgia copes with her situation by confiding her thoughts to a “safe” person. Colin is compassionate and gains understanding that grief comes in many forms and it is all valid and real.
On the other hand, All the Broken Pieces is indeed an historical fiction tale in verse about an adoptee. Young Matt is an air-lift rescued Vietnamese boy. His biological mother puts him on a plane trusting that the U.S. soldiers will find him a home far away from the brutalities and tragedies of the Vietnam War. This event in history is known as Operation Babylift. The story tells how bewildered, traumatized Matt comes to the U.S. unable to speak English, yet filled with questions about why did his mother give him up (but not his brother), and why do so many people, especially his school/teammates regard him as an an enemy. He is placed for adoption with a white suburban family and given English lessons and cultural transition classes via his adoption agency. Matt struggles with the notion of “If she loved me so much, why did she give me away?” He wonders if he would ever be able to find her or his kept-behind brother ever again. He feels guilt as he struggles to feel love for two mothers while wondering about his white, biological soldier father.
While adapting to American school-boy life in the 1970s, Matt discovers piano playing and baseball while coping with racial and cultural insults from team and classmates who only have one narrow perspective of “us versus them” regarding the war in Vietnam. This book is insightful and educational in the historical sense. It captures the conundrum of being a trans-racial/national adoptee caught between cultures and loyalties. All the Broken Pieces is a quick read, designed for middle-grade / junior high readers but also a valuable addition to any adoptee’s reading collection.