Weeks, Sarah. So B. It. 2005. 288p. HarperCollins, $9.99 (9780064410472). Ages 8 – 12 years.
Rating:
4.5 stars Buy it! A book for classrooms or your home bookshelf.
Identities Represented:
- Adoptee within kinship, “Fictive kin.”
- Untraditional adoption: not through foster care nor an international agency
- Caretakers with invisible disabilities, such as agoraphobia and developmental disabilities
Review:
Join 12-year-old Heidi in a cross-country adventure from Nevada to New York that leads her to answers about big questions she’s been holding about her origins, ever since her disabled mother showed up on a stranger’s doorstep with her when she was a baby. The pacing of this novel is slow at first, then picks up speed as the main protagonist, Heidi, gets closer to finding her birth father. There are no illustrations in the novel; despite that, I had no trouble imagining the homey apartment that Heidi, her birth mother (Sophia), and adoptive mother (Bernadette) inhabited, likely due to the author’s eloquent worldbuilding. The emotional rollercoaster of this book is along the spectrum of grief, so have a box of tissues available ASAP.
This is a book that I have reread at least twice, which is rare for me. I have a bad habit of reading books and then forgetting about 95% of the plot a year later, but I have never forgotten the plot of this novel since I first read it at around 10 years old. After this book, my little-kid-self picked up many more by Sarah Weeks. The author has a knack for middle-grade novels with a twinge of mystery, reality, and sadness. Characters will help fortify empathy in yourself or your favorite middle-grade kiddo. Heidi helps add to the menagerie of characters representing adoptees who have a birth mother with intellectual disabilities. Heidi’s story is one I would classify as an adoptee within the kinship adoption triad, specifically “fictive kin” adoption; i.e., someone close to the family adopts but is not considered a biological relative.
Perspectives:
This novel feels like a mirror to me as an adoptee; I think it helps center an adoptee character’s feelings and story on her search for her birth father and more information about her origin. The perspectives that are somewhat simplified are those of the disabled birth parents, since the reader does not get to hear any internal thoughts from them.
The dominant narratives about family and belonging are challenged in this book because Sarah Weeks has a knack for getting into the mind of a kid – how Heidi’s routine and inner narrative feel “normal” to her, despite knowing that other people perceive her family as not normal. I really liked how most of the novel doesn’t take place at a school or playground, and we get more time inside Heidi’s head as she travels across the US in search of her birth father. For a large part of the book, if you’re an adoptee like me, the grief compacted within some excitement of searching for a birth parent will be bubbling around in your stomach.
The message I got from this novel is that our origin stories are worth exploring; that as the fantasies about our origins take a backseat once the truth starts to unfold, grief will start to metabolize differently compared to the “before I knew” and the “after I knew” more about my birth family’s reality.
I grew up in a household that hid and shied away from my origins, and this book felt like a mirror before I knew how to verbalize my own questioning about my identity as an adoptee and my own grief. The book arrived to me when I was about 10, and it gave me permission to start wondering about my birth family. 10/10, will reread and cry again.
Practice:
A perfect independent reading book for middle-grade students. Consider using the practice of windows and mirrors with a middle-grade reader while they are reading. At the beginning, middle, and end, ask them:
- What are some windows? (Experiences that are different from yours?)
- What are some mirrors? (What experiences reflect your own or feel relatable?)
- What questions do you have?
When an adoptee reader reads a book like this one, often they are processing and don’t yet have the language to name. Providing an open space for conversation and making it clear that their questions will be handled with thoughtfulness and care is essential.
About Martina
Martina Junod is a clinical librarian, lover of crafts, and a Slavic adoptee. She enjoys coordinating informal social gatherings for adoptees, former foster youth, and people who experience estrangement. A goal in her lifetime is to witness over-romanticized orphan tropes in fictional media become less dominant than adoptee-authored stories. She firmly believes that adoptees of all ages deserve to see a kaleidoscope of realistic identities, feelings, and characters reflected in the next generation of fiction. To reach her, message @adultadoptees on Instagram.
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