Review: Life, Animated

Do you like Disney movies? Do you like scientifically accurate terminology and complex social issues? Do you enjoy books that make you cry openly in public settings? Boy, do I have your next read all lined up... 

Life, Animated: A Story of Sidekicks, Heroes, and Autism, by Ron Suskind, is a biographical account of one father's journey, as he discovers the ability to connect to his autistic son, Owen, through the power of the Disney movies and characters that the boy loves.

Because I'm going to have trouble getting through this review without getting overly emotional, let's start with the structural parts, and my few dislikes. Foremost, the writing style is kind of overly formal in a couple of distracting ways. The vibe is also very East-Coast-y, and a little bit pretentious sometimes, which interfered with the accessibility of some of the more technical aspects to the medical side of the story. However, I think that all of that just goes to the fact that the author, as it says on the cover, is a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, and I've got to figure that just kind of comes with the territory.

I guess I should point out one of the inherent personal aspects of my connection to this narrative: my family is Hardcore Disney. As in, we're the jerks who scoff at casual fans of the Parks and movies, absolutely dominate at Disney Scene-It, and god forbid anyone gets a character/setting/movie's name wrong, or mis-quotes a movie line. We're annoying and obsessed, and we revel in it.

Hence, why I definitely recommend this book to other Disnerds. It perfectly touches on the emotional cores to the Disney canon, on which my own moral sense is founded, and demonstrates them as a means of making a very confusing reality a little more translatable to Owen's sensibilities. It was honestly so exciting to hear about some of my favorite Disney movies providing a touchstone for Owen to hold on to, and hearing about how he enjoyed the Parks, too, just made me smile.

(Besides, there are very few of us who enjoy 2004's Home on the Range, so we've got to stick together.)

And I think the whole "eldest sibling" effect plays into it as well... some of my favorite parts about when Owen was really young, included hearing about the relationship he had with his older brother. I'd like to think that I've been there to stick up for my sibs about as well as Walt stuck up for Owen. Just one of the many elements of this book that made me get a little misty-eyed...

Ooh, boy, did this book make me weepy. And not just at any kind of climax at the ending - though I did tear up there, too - where it would have come into play in any other book, but just at the various stages of development with Owen, throughout the course of the novel. Seeing him learn and understand - and Suskind himself learn and understand - was a pretty powerful thing.

I've recommended this to three friends so far, fans of both Disney and of crying, and I hope they take the chance to read it. Coming into Life, Animated, I didn't know a whole lot about autism, and the ways that the subject is tackled and treated in the book made a complex disorder at least that much more accessible (as accessible as it can be).

And even beyond that, it's a powerful tale of the lengths we'll go to to connect with the people we care about... and make sure, like Stitch said, "Family means nobody gets left behind."

Final Verdict: This book finds its strength in strong emotional ties, and a complete and context-placed narrative of mental disorders that aren't easy explained otherwise. Fans of both Lisa Genova's Still Alice and Disney movies should definitely pick up a copy.

Top Ten Tuesday: Books That Made Me Cry

"Top Ten Tuesday" is a weekly countdown meme, hosted by the Broke and the Bookish! 

You guys. I just did a post reviewing The Fault in Our Stars where I talked about how little books can make me cry, and now we've got an entire "Top Ten Tuesday" post dedicated to making me relive painful memories? How could you, I mean, really. Get your lifeboats ready, ladies and gents, because here comes the flood. 

JOHN GREEN IS MEAN

(and also, you know, gives voice to dreams, fears, and inhibitions that young adults need and want to hear, and stuff)

1. The Fault in Our Stars by John Green 

That one just hurt. HURT, hurt. 

2. Looking for Alaska by John Green 

Taking it from experience, now, having one of your friends die is one of the worst things that can ever possibly happen to you, so don't read this book unless you want to know what that feels like. 

WHY DO I LOVE YOU ANYWAYS

Series that will always have a place in my heart, but did a fair amount of ripping it out of my chest to do so.

3. Crown of Midnight by Sarah J. Maas

GOD DAMMIT SARAH, I love you, but you know what you did. Anyone who read the book knows what I'm talking about. 

4. Harry Potter and the Sadness That Consumes the Entire Damn Series Once the Stuff Hits the Fan in Book 5

We're not even going to talk about how woefully unprepared my untested mettle was for the marathon of torment that came from reading the tail end of this series. And just to keep from embarrassing myself further, we won't mention the movies, either. 

THIS IS FOR CHILDREN???

Let it be here stated that in each of these cases, a well-qualified librarian actually let me check these things out, without warning me of the tragedy that would befall me and my uncultured soul beforehand.

5. The Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Peterson

Well, let me now avoid all rope swings for the rest of my life. 

6. Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls

In a blindingly apparent brush with conformity in my more formative years, I tried to get into books with animals in them. BIG mistake. 

THE NAZIS SUCK AND I HATE THEM

I mean, duh, self-explanatory, and hence the reason why any and all books about WWII are to be avoided at all costs. 

7. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas by John Boyne

I don't think I can come up with a good reason for me thinking this was a children's book, but I read it in one morning before fencing practice in the seventh grade, and let's just say that my parry was a bit impaired that day. 

8. The Diary of Anne Frank

No matter how extraordinarily precocious you think your third grade daughter is, do not, DO NOT, let her do a biographical book report about Anne Frank. She will lose it completely in front of her class, and it will not be okay. 

WHY DIDN'T I JUST SEE THE MOVIE

9. The Help by Kathryn Stockett

Inequality really, really sucks, guys. 

10. The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky 

I actually went on recommending this one to my sister, The Cheerleader, so what kind of big sister does that make me, anyways? 

WHAT ARE YOUR TOP TEN? 

Review: The Fault in Our Stars

You guys. YOU GUYS.

You know how there's always that one book/movie/TV show episode/etc. that everyone says is going to make you cry? Like, Finding Neverland, or the Prom episode of Buffy? So, I'm that girl who always, always cries at those sorts of things... but never books. I don't know why - they totally used to make me tear up when I was a kid and more likely to get sucked into novels like they were a vacuum cleaner for your emotional stability - but there's little-to-no response from me when a beloved character dies or something tragic happens.

What I'm basically trying to say is, I thought I was strong enough to read this book, but I wasn't. 

The Fault in Our Stars is a best-selling novel penned by quintessential Contemporary Young Adult novelist John Green. Detailing the story of a teenage terminal cancer patient living on the borrowed time of a medical miracle, Hazel Grace meets the love of her life, Augustus Waters, at a Cancer Support Group. TFiOS has already wowed readers across the globe, and has a major motion picture adaptation, starring Shailene Woodley, set to premiere this summer.

It definitely has a reputation for being a heart-breaker, but I just wouldn't listen. Both of my younger sisters were rocked to their core, and ended up even scaring our mom a little with their deeply felt emotional reactions. Nearly everyone I've talked to who read this book felt it like a bomb, and for whatever reason, I thought I'd get away clean. Not so: my mom just so happened to walk into the room at the precise moment when my red splotchy face and squinted-up eyes were gushing with tears, in a way that's more akin to what the underbellies of the Titanic must have looked like after the iceberg hit. This book hurts, as it should. 

Structurally, it's solid. Narratively, it's perfection. It's got the dual benefit of being an incredibly well-written story with an incredibly interesting and involving plot. I've heard people try and write this off as simply one of the better spectrum of a Contemporary YA novel, but I think it transcends genre conventions entirely. I'd recommend this book to anyone, regardless of the shelf it came off of at Barnes and Noble. 

Honestly, it's no use trying to even write a review for this one, because I'll only be repeating what so many have said before me. It's beautiful, charming, and engaging; a tragic romance of star-crossed lovers that still manages to leave you with a little bit of hope. It touches on a difficult subject with a mix of a careful hand and a willful disavowal of the seriousness that has to accompany the topic of dying, creating a loving and fun cushion for the inevitable painful blow that you know is going to be coming from page 1. Seriously, this book is deep, and wide, and worth it.

This book made me both chuckle to myself and cry like the day I was born, and there's essentially no way to talk about it that won't sound cliche or overused. Just, please read this book.