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Showing posts with label Transracial Adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Transracial Adoption. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 27, 2023

Christian Adoption Novel Clean, Uplifting and Moving

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Lauren Bailey is tired of waiting for The One to magically appear in her life before she can make her dream of becoming a mother a reality. Only her very closest friends know that the 31-year-old first grade teacher has applied to adopt a child from China; in fact, she's been waiting to be matched with one for over a year. Since the rules dictate that she can only adopt as a single woman or as a wife of more than two years, Lauren has stopped looking for Mr. Right altogether.

Enter Joshua Avery, a goofy tech developer who's stepped in as a short-term sub for the other first grade teacher at Lauren's school. He's cheerful, funny, compassionate, successful, and...interested. As much as Lauren tries to convince herself she doesn't feel the sparks between them, she can't deny that a certain dinosaur-obsessed creator of educational apps is constantly on her mind. When she finally receives an email matching her with a child, Lauren is torn. The timing couldn't be worse. If she proceeds with the adoption, will she lose Joshua? If she prioritizes her new relationship, will her dream—what she feels is a God-given calling—of being an adoptive mother ever come true? She's having a difficult enough time getting her family onboard with the idea, let alone the new man in her life. Will she have to sacrifice her dream of adopting for her dream of finding the perfect partner? Is there some way to have both, even when it's looking like she'll get neither? 

Christy Award-winning author Nicole Deese and her husband adopted their daughter from China. That experience inspired her to write Before I Called You Mine, a novel that's not just about adoption, but also about the choices we make in life, the anxieties we feel, and the ability we have to conquer them through faith in God. (It's Christian fiction, natch.) Although my experience with adoption differed greatly from Lauren's fictional journey (my husband and I had been married for over a decade and had three biological children when we adopted our newborn daughter here in the U.S.), I could definitely empathize with a lot of her feelings and frustrations. Her decisions and thought patterns didn't always seem logical to me, but I still felt a connection with her character. She's sympathetic and likable, although—not gonna lie—she got irritating and self-centered at times. Joshua, on the other hand, is completely charming, likely because he has no actual flaws except for being a little too silly. He could have used some rounding out to make him more realistic. I especially dug Lauren's kind, supportive circle of friends; their presence adds a nice found-family aspect to the novel that gives it another layer of heartwarming appeal.

Deese has a warm, engaging writing style that makes Before I Called You Mine both compelling and enjoyable. The story is predictable, sure, but it's got enough conflict going on to keep it interesting. Lauren's romance with Joshua develops over time, her adoption journey is realistically bumpy, and her dealings with her parents and sister bring up some important issues about family, adoption, and decision making. This might be spoiler-y, but I would have liked more in the story about Lauren's actual experience as a single, working mother of an older child who has been plopped into a completely foreign living situation without being able to understand more than a few words of English. That whole experience—which could be incredibly rocky—feels glossed over in the novel. 

I know a lot of readers shy away from Christian novels because they often get too preachy, cheesy, or just over-the-top Jesus-y. Before I Called You Mine does have a stronger religious vibe than other Christian books I've read, but it's handled in a way that feels mostly natural and balanced. To be fair, I'm a religious person and I often have discussions with family and friends about church, scriptures, spiritual promptings, how God works in my life, etc. I like the way Deese deals with the religious aspects of the story, and I am definitely one who puts down a book if it's too preachy! This one isn't (at least not for me). 

Overall, I quite enjoyed Before I Called You Mine. It's clean, heartwarming, uplifting, and faith-promoting. I cared about the characters and felt invested in their plights. There was enough going on in the story to keep me reading. Its themes resonated with me as a mother, an adoptive parent, and a Christian woman. Deese's writing style appeals to me so I will definitely be reading more from her. 

(Readalikes: Reminds me of other books about adoption, although no particular one is coming to mind. Help!)

Grade:


If this were a movie, it would be rated:


for nothing offensive

To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of Before I Called You Mine from the generous folks at Bethany House in exchange for an honest review. Thank you!

Saturday, February 03, 2018

Depressing Family Drama Rich in Discussion-Worthy Topics

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Like Shaker Heights—the Ohio community in which she resides—Elena Richardson has structured her life with master-planned precision and care.  Predictably, she's now living the dream as a suburban housewife with a luxurious home, a successful husband, and four (almost) picture-perfect children.  Her part-time job as a reporter for the second-best newspaper in Shaker Heights gives her something to do with her spare hours, while charity work helps her feel altruistic and superior.  Elena craves order, plays by the rules, and expects everyone else in her affluent community to do the same.

The arrival of Mia Warren, a 36-year-old artist and single mother of 15-year-old Pearl, shakes up the neighborhood almost immediately.  Elena takes in the impulsive, free-spirited nomad, allowing her to live in the Richardsons' rental home.  She even hires Mia as a housekeeper, a job Mia accepts mostly so she can keep an eye on Pearl, who's drawn both to the structure and tidiness of the Richardson home and to Elena's charming teenage son Trip.  Unpredictable Izzy Richardson is the opposite.  She prefers to hang out in the casual, laid-back atmosphere of the Warrens' apartment.  As the lives of the children become more and more enmeshed, a troubling disquiet creeps over Elena's well-ordered life.

Things come to a head when a Shaker Heights couple, long-time friends of the Richardsons, adopt a Chinese baby.  The birth mother, a poor, desperate friend of Mia's, is fighting to get her child back.  As the situation escalates and people choose sides in the ensuing conflict, Elena watches her family, her community, and the shiny veneer on her seemingly perfect life crumble in shocking ways.  As Elena soon learns, behind the doors in her gleaming, privileged community—even in her own idyllic home—there are little fires burning everywhere.

Little Fires Everywhere, a sophomore novel by Celeste Ng, offers a sharp examination of some big issues—classism, racism, transracial adoption, privilege, entitlement, and what it means to be a good parent.  Book clubs will likely drool over its discussion-rich possibilities.  I've seen a plethora of rave reviews for Ng's second bestseller, but once again, I find myself a bit underwhelmed by her work.  Yes, Little Fires Everywhere offers up some interesting observations, but it's also peopled with a cast of unlikable characters and burdened with a plot that creeps along very slowly and comes to, what I feel, is a deeply unsatisfying conclusion.  Overall, the novel is just dreary and depressing.  Compelling, yes, but not a read I think of as overly engrossing or laudable.  For me, the book is just okay.  I felt the same way about Everything I Never Told You, so maybe Ng just isn't an author with whom I click.  Oh well.


Grade:


If this were a movie, it would be rated:


for language (a half dozen or so F-bombs, plus milder expletives), sexual content, and depictions of illegal drug use and underage drinking

To the FTC, with love:  I bought a copy of Little Fires Everywhere from Amazon with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger.  Ha ha.
Friday, January 27, 2017

Fascinating Memoir Describes Indian Orphan's Long Journey Home

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

I don't know about you, but I go to the dentist to get book recommendations.  Well, okay, I get my teeth cleaned there as well.  Still, I often come home with suggestions from my hygienist on what books I should read next and what shows I can't miss on Netflix.  I always take note because I love discovering new stories—plus it distracts her from lecturing me on flossing!  Anyway, at one of my last appointments, my hygienist mentioned how amazing she found A Long Way Home, a memoir by Saroo Brierley.  It sounded so fascinating that I knew I had to pick it up.  Apparently, we're not the only ones who thought the story astounding.  The book has been widely read and was recently made into a movie starring Nicole Kidman called Lion.   

Here's what it's all about:  

Until the age of 5, Saroo lived a life of abject poverty in Khandwa, India.  That changed one fateful day in 1986 when he traveled to the local train station with his brother.  The older boy told Saroo to stay where he was until his brother returned.  When his brother did not come back, young Saroo boarded the train anyway.  No one seemed to notice the small boy traveling alone.  By the time he got off the train days later, Saroo was hopelessly lost.  When he was picked up off the streets in Calcutta, he could not tell officials the name of his hometown or even his own surname.  With no way to contact his family, Saroo was placed in an overcrowded orphanage.

Not long after, Saroo was adopted by the Brierleys, a kind Australian couple.  Subsequently reared in Hobart, Tasmania, he was showered with love and affection by his new family.  Still, as he grew up, Saroo wondered about his birth parents and siblings.  Determined to figure out where in India he came from, he pored over maps, pumping his foggy memories for information that would lead him home.  When Google Earth became available, Saroo launched a concerted, methodical search that would ultimately take him back to the place where his life began.

It's an incredible story and one that Brierley relates in a straightforward, very readable manner.  His journey is truly amazing, as is the fierce determination he showed in his dogged pursuit to find his true roots.  As an adoptive mother, I was especially interested in his insights on identity, adoption, and familial love.  Although his story definitely has its disturbing elements, overall it's an intriguing, inspirational memoir that will leave you gaping in wonder.  I enjoyed A Long Way Home very much—it's a quick, compelling read that I (and my dental hygienist) highly recommend. 

(Readalikes:  I haven't read it yet, but I've heard The Orphan Keeper by Camron Wright tells a similar story.)   

Grade:


If this were a movie, it would be rated:


for disturbing subject matter and violence

(Note: Lion is rated PG-13)

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find
Saturday, March 05, 2016

Upbeat Adoption Tale a Warm, Summertime Story

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

When people see Julia, Avery, and Becca together, they seem to think only one thing: Chinese.  It's true the girls were all born in China, even lived in the same orphanage, but that doesn't mean they're all the same.  Or that they're any less American just because they weren't born on U.S. soil.  Avery and Becca might not care if people only see their Asian-ness, but Julia wants to blend in.  She doesn't want to learn Mandarin, eat with chopsticks, or cool herself with a Chinese-style fan.  The last thing on Earth she wants is to stick out more than she already does.

Julia is definitely not happy about spending the summer with Avery and Becca at a sleep away camp in Wisconsin.  Worse, she's expected to not just bond with her "Chinese sisters," but also to write about her experiences in a journal for Ms. Marcia, the director of the agency that facilitated the girls' adoptions.  As if things aren't bad enough already, Julia, Avery and Becca get stuck with two snotty cabin mates.  Cabins are supposed to work together to win various competitions and earn prizes.  There's little hope of White Oak winning anything, given how little cooperation goes on between the mismatched girls.  Between the constant talk of China and adoption, the obnoxiousness of the other girls, and Julia's already sour attitude, it's going to be a very, very, very long summer ... 

It may not sound like it from my description, but Just Like Me by Nancy J. Cavanaugh is a funny, upbeat story about finding yourself in the most unlikely of places.  It's a quick, thoughtful read that teaches some great lessons about embracing what's unique about yourself.  Adopted children and their parents will be relieved to see common misconceptions about adoption addressed in the story in sensitive, even humorous ways.  As an adoptive mother herself, Cavanaugh has in-the-trenches experience that radiates through this novel.  While the story didn't blow me away or anything, I enjoyed it, especially the way Cavanaugh brings it all to a realistically imperfect end.  

(Readalikes:  I've read a lot of books about adoption, but I can't think of anything really similar to Just Like Me.  Can you?)

Grade:


If this were a movie, it would be rated:


To the FTC, with love:  I received an ARC of Just Like Me from the generous folks at Sourcebooks.  Thank you!
Friday, August 08, 2014

Relatable Premise Just Not Enough to Earn My Undying Love

 (Image from Barnes & Noble)

Ivy Darling enjoys all the trappings of a successful life.  She's been married for three years, works at a job she likes, and thrives on the strength of her tight-knit family (if not her in-laws, who've never quite warmed to her).  There's only one thing she needs to be truly happy:  a child.  Her struggles with infertility have left her feeling raw and vulnerable.  Ivy's ready to move on, ready to grow her family through adoption.  If only her husband would agree.  Determined to have "his own" child or none at all, Nick has become increasingly distant and hostile.  Ivy can't stand the constant tension between them, but she's not willing to give up on her dream of being a mother—even if it means doing it without Nick.

When an African-American family moves into the ramshackle house next door, Ivy's interest is piqued.  The single mother and three children look like no one else in tiny Copper Grove, Maine, which doesn't stop Ivy from trying to welcome them to the neighborhood.  She soon realizes why her friendly overtures are being rebuffed—the kids don't want her to know how often they are left by themselves.  When their mother fails to return from work one day, leaving her children scared and locked out of their home, Ivy can't stop herself from intervening.  Taking the trio into her own home, Ivy pours all the love in her mothering heart into their well-being.  Despite Nick's vehement protests, the situation is looking more and more permanent.  Ivy couldn't be happier with the arrangement, but what will it do to her fracturing marriage?  And how will her heart heal if the children are taken from her?  Does Ivy dare risk it all in the hopes of finally creating the family she's always wanted?

The first in a planned series revolving around the Darling Family, All Right Here by Carre Armstrong Gardner, is a hopeful, inspiring novel.  Although it's classified as Christian fiction, the religious aspects of the story feel natural, not heavy-handed.  The story's focus really is family—the warmth, the conflict, the joy, the jealousy, the love, etc. that exist in every large brood.  It examines some weighty issues, but does so in a way that is both realistic and PG-rated.  While I appreciated all of these elements, there were a few things that bugged me about the story.  The altering viewpoints, for one.  I get that, while All Right Here zeroes in on Ivy's story, it's meant to be an introduction to the whole Darling clan.  Which is all well and good, as long as all the different narrators have distinct voices and problems that are intriguing in their own right, something that doesn't really happen here.  I was most interested in the story's main conflict and found it distracting to head-jump.  As the adoptive mother of a bi-racial child, I identified most with Ivy, although there were definitely aspects of her experience that didn't ring very true.  Still, my biggest problem with All Right Here is that, in general, I found the Darlings—the whole lot of them—underdeveloped and just not rounded enough to really live and breathe inside my head.  Considering all of this, the novel ended up being just an okay read for me.  Disappointing, because I wanted to love this one.  Ah, well.

(Readalikes:  I can't really think of anything.  Can you?)

Grade:


If this were a movie, it would be rated:


for intense/adult situations

To the FTC, with love:  I received an e-galley of All Right Here from the good folks at Tyndale House Publishers via those at NetGalley.  Thank you!
Thursday, April 05, 2012

Family: Isn't It About Love?

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Lara Reid thinks her family is just like every other one in the U.K.  Her father always tells her she's special, she just assumes that's the reason people gawk.  Turns out, that's not it at all.  According to the playground taunts, Lara's family doesn't "match" and everyone knows families are supposed to match.  Anyone with functioning eyes can see the one thing Lara's never really understood—a Caucasian couple like Barry and Pat Reid could never have produced a child with Lara's brown skin and bushy, black hair.  Realizing the truth in her classmates' insinuations, Lara comes to the only logical conclusion: she's an alien.

It's not until she's 8 that Lara learns her parents adopted her five years ago from an orphanage in faraway Nigeria.  Africa's just a place she hears mentioned on the telly every so often and Lara's got much more pressing concerns at home in Essex, so she doesn't worry about her mysterious past.  Much.  It stays in the back of her mind as she matures into an efficient, successful woman, but it's not until the day her birth mother shows up in England that Lara's forced to confront the past that has always haunted her present.  Caught between two cultures, two families, two histories, Lara must wrestle with all the truths, secrets and mysteries to answer the most important question of all:  Who is Lara Reid?

Anyone who knows about my beautiful, bi-racial daughter, adopted a few years ago from the bayous of Louisiana, will understand why I found Being Lara by Lola Jaye such a compelling novel.  I would have read the book based on the cover alone (when my little girl saw the model on the front, she exclaimed, "It's me, Mommy!"), but the plot line also intrigued me.  With themes of transracial adoption, racial/cultural identity, family, and other issues I ponder every day, I knew this story would speak straight to my heart.  And it did.  I sympathized with Lara, in all her confusion and vulnerability, as well as with her two mothers, both of whom narrate some sections of the story.  While I don't necessarily agree with how the Reids handled the whole adoption thing, I recognized all their feelings of anxiety, doubt, guilt and fear, as I've experienced them all since the day I decided to become an adoptive mother.  As for the actual story, it's fast-paced, well-told, realistic (except, perhaps, for the rather tidy end) and heartwarming without being sappy.  I'm not sure I buy the idea that Lara didn't notice her family was different until age 8 (after all, my 3-year-old will look at a picture of Disney princesses and identify herself as Tiana and me as Belle), but that's a small matter, really.  From the lovely cover (I need the number of the hairstylist responsible for that gorgeous hair!) to the important (and very relevant to me) themes to the globetrotting storyline (just try not to be affected by Jaye's descriptions of Nigeria, a place she once lived), I liked Being Lara a whole lot.  It reminded me that families aren't about "matching," they're about love.      


Grade:  B-

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  R for language (2 F-bombs, plus milder invectives) and mild sexual innuendo/content

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of Being Lara from the generous folks at William Morrow (an imprint of Harper Collins) and TLC Book Tours.  Thank you!     
Monday, July 11, 2011

6 American Jews + 1 Abandoned Bulgarian + 4 Ethiopian Orphans = A Family??

(Image from Indiebound)
What do you get when you mix six white American Jews with an abandoned Bulgarian boy and four Ethiopian orphans? Chaos, for starters. Eventually, though, you get a family. The Greene-Samuel Family of Atlanta, Georgia, to be exact. How did these 11 people meld different backgrounds, different personalities, and different expectations into one happy, workable unit? That's the question Melissa Fay Greene tackles in her parenting memoir No Biking in the House Without A Helmet. With trademark humor, the journalist describes the tumultuous blending of cultures that rocked her household when she and her husband, already the parents of four, decided to adopt five more children.
Quick to eschew so-called "adoption addicts," Greene insists, "Donny and I have steered by the light of what brings us joy, what makes us laugh, and what feels right and true" (7). That inspiration led them to orphanages in both Bulgaria and Ethiopia, where they found, among vast numbers of needy children, the five destined to become their own. But, as Greene soon discovered

Adoption seems so theoretical, and fun, until you realize you will have to put one foot in front of the other in real time, through actual streets of a city with an impossibly exotic name, on a continent you've never been to, surrounded by people rapidly speaking in many languages of which you will understand not one word - all with the goal of bringing back a traumatized young human being from very far away to your everyday midtown American life (120).
The reality involved yanking terrified children away from everything familiar, shoving them into a blinding new world full of unimaginable sights and sounds, overwhelming their palates with rich, foreign foods, and trying to convince them that the brutal, survival-of-the-fittest mentality by which they'd been governing their lives no longer applied. And that was just the first week. Each time Greene added another child to the mix, she found herself dealing with everything from bouts of post-adoption depression to frustration over her inability to communicate with her non-English speaking children to fear that the new siblings would kill each other long before they had a chance to bond. Through it all, the Greene-Samuels relied on their faith, their senses of humor and, most of all, each other, to turn their mismatched crew into a family.
Maybe I'm just predisposed to like adoption stories, but I found this one compelling on a lot of different levels. I enjoyed Greene's wry take on life, her honesty, and the compassion with which she tells the stories of her children. It's impossible not to laugh with her, empathize with her, and appreciate her determination to create a strong, nurturing family out of eleven very different people. Although there were certain ideas I wish Greene had explored more in the book, overall, I found it both informative and entertaining. No Biking in the House Without A Helmet is a book for all parents and all families - no matter how they were formed.
(Readalikes: Um, Jacquelyn Mitchard called the book "Cheaper By the Dozen for a new planet," which I think describes it very well.)
Grade: B-
If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for strong language (a handful of F-bombs, plus infrequent use of milder invectives) and a small amount of crude humor
To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find
Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Secret Daughter a Heart-Wrenching Story, Beautifully Told

(Image from Indiebound)

I've always loved adoption stories. Something about all the heartbreak, sacrifice and enormous love that goes into the process has always spoken directly to my heart. Back when I still thought bearing children would be an easy, unwrinkled process for me, I'd watch TLC's Adoption Stories and bawl my eyes out. The program no longer airs, but even if it did, I wouldn't be able to watch it now. After adopting my daughter, my feelings on the subject are so tender that all it takes is hearing the word "adopt" to make my eyes leak. And yet, I still love adoption stories. Which is why I approached Secret Daughter by Shilpi Somaya Gowda with such eagerness. Not to mention a big box of Kleenex.

The book tells the parallel stories of two mothers - one a 31-year-old pediatrician in California, the other a peasant woman living in rural India - and the child that brings them together. After suffering multiple miscarriages, Somer Whitman Thakkar discovers that she is infertile. The news shocks her, the knowledge that she will never bear a child shaking her to her core. While Somer grieves, then prepares herself for invasive fertility treatments that have little chance of working, her husband suggests adoption. Furious with Krishnan for giving up on her, on them, Somer refuses to consider the idea. Until she realizes how futile it is to dream of something that will likely never happen, especially while hundreds of abandoned children linger in foreign orphanages, just waiting for good families to rescue them. When Somer sees the baby who's been chosen for her and Krishnan, a little Indian girl with curly black hair and stunning hazel eyes, she knows she's made the right decision. Soon, the couple's on their way to Bombay, intent on bringing the child home to California.
Meanwhile, Kavita Merchant mourns the loss of the infant she has just borne. She knows her husband, Jasu, is right - they can't afford a baby on the meager salary they make from working the fields. Especially a girl. They need sons to help with the work, to carry on the family name, to support them in their old age. A girl will only cost them money they can't afford to spend. But Kavita wants this beautiful, hazel-eyed child, even while she knows her husband will never allow her to keep the baby. Refusing to let this newborn daughter suffer the same grisly fate as her last, she whisks the child off to Bombay, where she places her in a grimy orphanage. The anklet she places on the baby's foot is the only token Kavita can give her child, the only proof the girl will have that she was loved on sight, instantly cherished by the woman who gave her life.
Twenty years later, Asha Thakkar clasps the anklet between her hands, wondering about the people who gave it to her. Although she's enjoyed a stable childhood with parents who doted on her, Asha still feels as if something's missing in her life. She's learned a little about her country of birth from her father, but she's never visited India. She knows bits of her story, just not enough to feel whole. She holds pieces to the puzzle of who she is, yet she can't get a complete picture. So, when the opportunity to study in India for a year arises, Asha takes it, even though she knows it will infuriate her mother. Maybe for that very reason. Still, Asha knows that staying with Krishnan's family in Mumbai will give her a chance to get to know her extended adoptive family, see her home country with her own eyes and, maybe, help her find the answers to the questions that plague her.
As Asha digs for her roots in India, Somer grapples with her own worries and anger. Krishnan's increasing distance doesn't make things any easier. Her marriage crumbling, Somer embarks on a journey not unlike her daughter's. It's a desperate search for herself that will end the same way Asha's does - with heartbreak, with illumination, and with understanding. At the same time, Kavita continues to mourn her lost daughter, never realizing that Asha is closer than she ever could have imagined. All the stories converge in a taut, emotional finale that proves redemption can often be found in the most unlikely of places.
Gowda writes with strength, heart and wisdom, making Secret Daughter a stunning debut novel that will stir the mothering heart in anyone. It's a heart-wrenching story, beautifully told, about longing, fulfillment and everything in between. I wept with Somer because I didn't just feel her pain, I knew her pain. And her joy. And her love for a little girl who came from another, but is somehow her own. Secret Daughter moved me, not because the story's sentimental - because it's strong, stirring and satisfying. Not unlike adoption itself. It's so powerful that I'm still sniffling and, thanks to Gowda, I'm fresh out of Kleenex.
(Readalikes: Reminded me a bit of Lucky Girl by Mei-Ling Hopgood; Shine, Coconut Moon by Neesha Meminger; and a little of Skunk Girl by Sheba Karim)
Grade: A-
If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for mild language (no F-bombs) and mature subject matter
To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of Secret Daughter from the generous folks at Harper Collins and TLC Book Tours, for whom this review was written.
Monday, August 24, 2009

When the Black Girl Sings Leaves Me Wanting More

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

In my quest to find new book blogs, I stumbled across Reading in Color, a spunky new blog written by the lovely Ari (aka Miss Attitude). She's young, black and committed to promoting books written by, for and about People of Color (POC). After scrolling through her posts, I knew she was the perfect person to help me with another of my quests - ever since I adopted my daughter (who is part African-American, part caucasian/Cajun), I've been trying to find books featuring bi-racial, adopted and/or black characters. My baby's not even walking yet, but I want her to have a library of books featuring interesting people whose experiences might be similar to hers. Who knows what will happen as she discovers her own, individual identity - I just want to make sure she's exposed to every side of her unique heritage. Ari came through in a big way, recommending sites like The Brown Bookshelf and Color Online as well as a whole list of books. Among her suggestions was When the Black Girl Sings by Bil Wright. While I didn't love the book, I think it offers a lot of insights into adoption, race, family, identity and life itself.

The novel stars Lahni Schuler, a black teenager who lives in Connecticut with her adoptive parents, who are white. Although her mom and dad adore her, they're having trouble getting along with each other. With their impending divorce, Lahni feels her world crumble even more. She's already dealing with a new school - a private one full of snooty white girls who make her feel very, very black. Plus, she's being stalked by a wannabe gangsta. Not only is he white, but he's also a complete whack job. Angry at her dad, worried about her mom, and feeling sorry for herself, Lahnie's not exactly a happy camper.

One day, Lahni's mother finds just what they need to put their lives back together: religion. Resigned, Lahni trudges along to the Church of the Good Shepherd, hoping it will cheer up her mom. She's amazed to find herself moved to tears by the congregation's resident choir, led by a flamboyant black pianist and an equally black diva named Carietta Chisolm. Lahni enlists their help in training for an upcoming school talent competition. In the bosom of the choir, she finally feels a sense of belonging. Still, she's got issues: How does she deal with her parents' dissolving relationship? Will she survive in a school that seems bent on ostracizing her? How is she going to shake her creepy stalker? And, should she even be entering a singing competition when the other girls seem so much more talented? As Lahni tackles her problems, she'll learn a thing or two about who she really is - and how, in the end, that knowledge is all that really matters.

As much as I wanted to love this book, I found the writing a little lackluster, the characters a little too flat and the plot a little too predictable. What I do appreciate is Wright's straightforwardness in tackling issues of race, specifically how a black child might feel growing up in a white family and community. Despite the conflicts Lahni faces, her adoption is portrayed in a positive light - her parents couldn't care less about her ethnicity, they love her for her. But it also shows how different a parent's view can be from that of a child who feels like an outsider every day of her life. I also enjoyed the characters of Marcus Delacroix III (the choir director/pianist) and Carietta Chisolm - although both are larger than life, they come off as both interesting and believable.

So, yeah, there's lots to love about this book, I just wanted a little more depth. When the Black Girl Sings starts off so strongly; I mean, the first two lines read: "I never once let any of them see me naked. Until that Friday, when I had no choice" (2). Who can resist reading on? Unfortunately, the writing fizzles along the way, making it a weaker story than it could have been. I'm still glad I read it as it gave me a lot to think about - I just wanted more from the author.

(Note: I'm still looking for books with bi-racial, adopted and/or black characters to add to my list. Bring on the recommendations! And thanks again, Ari, for all your help!)

Grade: C

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for sexual content (in conversations, not action)
Friday, February 27, 2009

Lucky Girl Upbeat, Only A Little Bitter

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Every year, thousands of babies leave Asia for foreign lands, boarding planes that will jet them off to new countries, new lives, new futures. Chances of the babies ever re-connecting with their birth families are slim to none, a big plus for many adoptive couples. Considering this, Mei-Ling Hopgood's story really is pretty amazing. It's also funny, poignant and compulsively readable.

Hopgood, an American journalist who was adopted from Taiwan as a baby, talks about her reunion with her birth family in her memoir Lucky Girl. Raised in Michigan by her loving adoptive parents, Hopgood lived a happy, secure American life. She thought little about her Taiwanese culture or the family who had placed her for adoption. Mei-Ling knew enough - she was born to poor farmers who could barely support the 6 children they already had - to appreciate the good fortune that brought her to middle-class America. She was, indeed, a lucky girl.

As she grew up, Mei-Ling faced the kind of identity crisis common to transracial adoptees; by the time she graduated from college, however, she simply viewed her Asian roots with "distance and ambivalence" (119). Little did she know that her past was about to come a whole lot closer, demading anything but ambivalence. A recent college graduate, Hopgood was living in Detroit when she got the phone call that would change her life. On the other end of the line, Chris Hopgood, Mei-Ling's adoptive mother, mentioned that Sister Maureen - the nun who had cared for Mei-Ling after her birthparents placed her in an orphanage - was in town. Chris encouraged her daughter to call their old friend, which she did. An invitation to dinner and an off-hand remark about finding her birthparents later, Mei-Ling realized she had opened Pandora's box. Suddenly, Taiwanese relatives were phoning at all hours of the day, pelting her with questions and requests. The family that abandoned her in an orphanage two decades ago now couldn't leave her alone.

In spite of herself, Mei-Ling wanted to meet her birth family. March of 1997 found her embarking on her first trip to Taiwan, a journey that would take her into the heart of a loud, complex family that was, intriguingly, her own. She formed instant bonds with her 5 Taiwanese sisters, who encouraged her to locate another sister who had been adopted by a Swiss couple. Mei-Ling found the sisters engaging with their uproarious, unfiltered personalities. Her birthparents (whom she calls Ma and Ba) were another matter - Ba dominated every gathering with his cantankerous, controlling attitude and Ma let him, much as she had throughout their entire marriage. Language and culture obstructed effective communication, and Mei-Ling struggled to feel close to these parents she never knew. To add to the confusion, she felt a disturbing undercurrent in the family, as if behind their boisterous facade they hid deep, dark secrets. The more Mei-Ling probed, the more she discovered. In the end, she had to decide what to do with this new family and the Asian roots that ran a lot deeper than she'd ever been willing to admit.

Like most stories about transracial adoption, this one touches on themes of identity, culture, and family lost and found. The difference is tone - Lucky Girl is upbeat, funny and only a little bitter. While it pays homage to Mei-Ling's close-knit American family, it doesn't discount her Taiwanese relatives, who, despite the horrors of their past, make the effort to reunite their fractured family. Filled with colorful anecdotes and astute observations on transracial adoption, the book makes for an entertaining, but thought-provoking read. The writing could have been tighter, but, all in all, I enjoyed this one.

Grade: B

(Note: Lucky Girl will not be available until April 28, although it can be pre-ordered at Amazon or Barnes & Noble. It will also be featured in the June issue of Elle magazine, probably with comments by yours truly.)

Monday, January 26, 2009

In Their Own Voices Eye-Opening Resource for Adoptive Parents

(Image from Adoption Today)

The first question people ask upon glancing at my newborn daughter is, "What's her ethnicity?" Her brown skin and curly black hair pretty much serve as a billboard, announcing loud and clear that she is not my biological child. The fact that she's bi-racial (her birthmother is white; her birthfather is black) doesn't matter a lick to me, but I realize it may become a challenge for her as she grows up in a white family living in a predominantly white community. My concern led me to Amazon, where I searched for books to give me some instruction. I found surprisingly few. However, In Their Own Voices: Transracial Adoptees Tell Their Stories by Rita J. Simon and Rhonda M. Roorda looked to be exactly the kind of book I wanted. So I ordered it, waiting anxiously for it to arrive on my doorstep. As soon as I read the Introduction, I realized the book was not going to give me what I craved. What I really wanted was reassurance that: (1) As a white woman, I can effectively raise a bi-racial child; (2) Said child will be confident, responsible and whole, unaffected by her birth and subsequent adoption, and (3) Because of the bonds we create, she will never long for her biological family, or prefer it over ours. A few pages in, I discovered that In Their Own Voices is hardly the feel-good, reassuring type book I thought it would be. Instead, it's unflinchingly honest, sometimes frightening, but always fascinating. Like one reviewer said, "It should be required reading for anyone who is thinking of adopting or has adopted a child from another race."

The book consists of interviews with 24 black and bi-racial adults who were adopted as children by white families. Author Rhonda M. Roordan, herself a transracial adoptee (TRA), conducted all the interviews but one - Roordan answered questions asked by co-author Rita J. Simon. Prompted by the authors' questions, the interviewees discussed their experience as black children growing up in a white family; their relationships with both the black and white communities; their views on transracial adoption; whether they consider themselves black or white, and so on. The interviews are presented in Q & A format, which allows readers to hear the people speak "in their own voices." It feels like an intimate roundtable discussion, a candid, no-holds-barred conversation with those who have been there.

As the white parent of a bi-racial child, I learned some invaluable information from this book. The biggest eye-opener for me was this: The majority of the TRAs of mixed race identified themselves as black. Why this should surprise me, I don't know. If you saw my daughter, you would never label her white. Anyway, because society views them as black, they are treated as such. Therefore, almost all of the interviewees agreed that bi-racial children need to be exposed to the black community as they are growing up. To white parents they suggest living in ethnically diverse neighborhoods; teaching children about the literary, musical, scientific, etc. contributions of African Americans; allowing kids to explore their "blackness"; and being open and honest about issues of race, discrimination, adoption, etc. Every respondent but one said they supported transracial adoption, but nearly all of them suggested that adoption agencies provide serious training for couples considering a transracial adoption. Having received little of this kind of education, I wholeheartedly agree.

Another thing that surprised me (I know you all are laughing at my naivete) was that there are people out there who vehemently oppose transracial adoption. In my mind, it's better for a child to be placed with a loving family of another race than for him/her to bounce around from foster home to foster home, waiting for an adoptive family of their own race. Even if the child feels out of place in his/her adoptive family, at least he/she is in a loving environment. So, it shocked me to read these statements from William T. Merritt, a spokesman for the National Association of Black Social Workers:

"Black children should be placed only with black families, whether in foster care or for adoption."

"We view the placement of Black children in White homes as a hostile act against our community. It is a blatant form of race and cultural genocide."

To be fair, Merritt made the first statement in 1971, and the second in 1985, when debates about race were perhaps more heated. It is also unclear if he considers bi-racial kids "Black children." When I first read these words, I was appalled, especially after reading interview after interview stating that few black couples are available to adopt. After pondering the idea that "white families - no matter how liberal or well-intended - cannot teach a black child how to survive in an essentially racist society" (9), I find myself at least understanding the NABSW's position. I still believe that love conquers all, but I can definitely see where the group is coming from. (For more information on the NABSW and their work to find suitable African American homes for children in need, please visit their website.)

The authors of In Their Own Voices do not take a stand on the issue of transracial adoption, or white parents raising black children; rather, they allow the reader to draw his/her own conclusions based on what he/she has read. What I took from the book is this: White families can successfully raise black children, but they should make a conscientious effort to expose their children to the black community. If they are not committed to helping their children find their identity - racial and otherwise - then they should not adopt transracially.

I'll be honest, certain aspects of this book scared me to death, but other parts actually did give me some of the reassurance I needed. Most of all, In Their Own Voices opened my eyes to issues to which I had not given enough thought. It's truly a fascinating, eye-opening look into transracial adoption. That being said, I also have to point out that this book was published in 2000, with most of the TRAs being adopted in the early 1970s. Also, most of the respondents were raised in the Midwest or on the East Coast. I'm curious how the experiences of TRAs adopted in the 90s would compare with their counterparts from the 70s. I also wonder how the lives of TRAs raised in the South or on the West Coast compare to those on the opposite sides of the country. I wish the authors had addressed both of these questions. Lastly, I should clarify something that the authors don't - all of the transracial adoptees with whom they spoke were either black or a black/white mix. So, if you are looking for a book that specifically addresses children of Asian or Eastern European or American Indian or Indian descent, this is not it. Of course, much of the information would apply, I'm just saying I think the cover should have noted that the authors were discussing black/white adoptions. All in all, though, In Their Own Voices is a fabulous resource for white parents and their children. I highly recommend it, as well as its companion volume, In Their Parents' Voices, which is sure to be just as enlightening as this one.

Grade: B

(Note: I realize this is a controversial subject and that I may have inadvertently offended some people. I apologize if this is so. As always, I value your comments on this book or the topic of transracial adoption in general. If you prefer to communicate with me privately, send me an email at blogginboutbooks[AT]gmail[DOT][COM] .)

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