Publisher's Hardcover ©2024 | -- |
Teenage boys. Juvenile fiction.
Mental health. Juvenile fiction.
Eating disorders. Juvenile fiction.
Teenage boys. Fiction.
Mental health. Fiction.
Eating disorders. Fiction.
Gr 5 Up— Eighth grader Jake is bullied at school. He has only two friends. One is his grandmother, who understands him in a way his parents do not and shares his love of musicals. The other is an angel statue he named Frieden. It is only with her who Jake can be honest about how desperately in need of help he is. Jake is wasting away, controlled by "the voice," which dictates what and how much Jake can eat—and it is louder than his hunger. A former teacher at the nursing home where he volunteers calls Jake's mother to share her concerns about his weight, ultimately resulting in placement at an inpatient treatment center called Whispering Pines. A regimented schedule including group therapy, art therapy, and work with a psychologist provide Jake with multiple ways to combat his anorexia. Jake is furious that all treatment is at odds with the voice and refuses to participate. It is heartrending and frustrating to watch Jake take steps forward, and then regress multiple times in his nearly yearlong stay, but this repetition sheds insight into the reality of treatment. It is not until Jake begins to genuinely participate that readers learn Jake's backstory, and the relationship between bullying and his disordered eating. The novel's mid-1990s cultural references may be unfamiliar to young readers, but the multitude of issues Jake is struggling with are evergreen. The novel is written in verse from Jake's perspective, allowing poignant access to his thoughts and feelings. Schu draws on his own experience with anorexia, adding authenticity to the voice. The author clearly cares about his young readers, checking in with them at the end of the book and providing resources about eating disorders. Jake reads as white, as do others in his program. VERDICT Jake's struggle with anorexia isn't easy to read but his ultimate steps toward health provide hope, as does this much-needed and underrepresented male perspective on eating disorders.— Juliet Morefield
ALA Booklist (Mon Oct 07 00:00:00 CDT 2024)The bullying began in seventh grade. It became unbearable in eighth til the Voice entered Jake's life, telling him that he could regain control by becoming invisible. By not eating. By exercising more. A diagnosis of anorexia nervosa lands Jake in Whispering Pines for treatment. In raw, free-verse poetry, Schu takes readers inside Jake's tortured psyche during his stay as he combats the self-hating vitriol steadily supplied by the Voice. Flashbacks to happier times reveal Jake's strong connection with his grandmother, in particular their shared love of musical theater, as well as his love of art and poetry. These memories and creative outlets us a new friend come important anchors for Jake as he learns to hear the more positive voices around (and within) him. In his author's note, Schu shares how his own experiences with disordered eating as a teen were the impetus for this story, and a resource page concludes. This candid, challenging story will speak loudly to young people grappling with disordered eating and damaged self-esteem, as they will appreciate the honesty and healing it holds.
Publishers Weekly (Fri Oct 06 00:00:00 CDT 2023)In 1996, white-cued 13-year-old Jake Stacey would rather roller skate and listen to Broadway musicals or volunteer at the local nursing home than go to school and face relentless bullying. An internal voice, stylized in all-caps, declares that Jake doesn’t “deserve/ love/ and/ warmth/ and/ kindness/ and/ goodness,” and persuades him to forgo eating. Jake, who feels as if ignoring his hunger gives him control when nothing else does, is diagnosed with anorexia nervosa and admitted to Whispering Pines, an inpatient treatment facility for eating disorders. Jake initially rebels against the staff, refuses to speak during therapy, and dreams of leaving to attend a Broadway show with his grandmother. As he settles into his treatment, he experiences setbacks, explores his relationship with food, and opens up to the people around him. This heart-wrenching verse novel—inspired by the author’s experiences, as discussed in an end note by Schu (
School Library Journal Starred Review (Thu Feb 01 00:00:00 CST 2024)
ALA Booklist (Mon Oct 07 00:00:00 CDT 2024)
Publishers Weekly (Fri Oct 06 00:00:00 CDT 2023)
Jake Stacey
Grade: 8
Year: 1996
Favorite Subject: Language Arts
Favorite Book: The Giver by Lois Lowry
Favorite Movie: Home Alone
Favorite Sport: Rollerblading
Favorite Food:
A Goal: To see a musical on Broadway with Grandma
Writing My Name
I write
Jake
in
cursive
over
and
over
and
over.
It's
calming.
Filling
page after page
in my notebooks
with signatures.
Using
different
colors.
Purple.
Green.
Blue.
It's
soothing.
Trying out
different
styles.
Fancy.
Plain.
Bold.
Experimenting with
markers, highlighters, pastels.
Why is it
calming?
Why is it
soothing?
Maybe
because
I'm hoping
by writing
my name
over
and
over,
I'll
figure
out
who
I
am.
Jake
Jake
Jake
Jake
Jake
Jake
Jake
Nobody?
My stomach
G-R-O-W-L-S.
The Voice
tells it
to
S
T
O
P.
I toss the markers
inside the top drawer
of my desk.
I tear out the page
and rip it up
into little bits,
dropping each
piece into the
garbage can.
I look at a photo of
Emily Dickinson
taped to my desk.
I know
her poem
"I'm Nobody! Who are you?"
by heart.
So I run in place,
burning as many calories as I can,
repeating
the opening lines
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you--Nobody--too?
as
FAST
as
I
can.
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you--Nobody--too?
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you--Nobody--too?
The Voice says,
YOU--ARE--REPULSIVE!
Am I Nobody, Too?
When I can't run anymore
I sit down again at my
big brown desk.
Mom
knocks, knocks, knocks
on my bedroom door.
I ignore her.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
I don't have
enough energy
to tell her to
GO AWAY--
to leave me alone.
I wish everyone
would leave me alone--
forever.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
Worry enters the room.
She brings it
wherever she goes.
You can feel it.
Smell it.
Mom puts a plate of
pretzels and pepperoni
on my desk next to me.
My stomach
G-R-O-W-L-S
again.
The Voice says,
DON'T EAT THAT GARBAGE!
YOU ALREADY ATE AN APPLE TODAY!
YOU DIDN'T EXERCISE ENOUGH!
She says,
Why haven't you started your homework?
This isn't like you.
What's going on?
I want to say,
This isn't like you.
You don't usually care.
I glare at
math
problems,
wishing
X and Y
would
run away.
I imagine
feeding the
garbage
disposal
pretzels,
pepperoni, and
these
wretched
worksheets,
watching
it
grind
everything
into
tiny
bits.
The Voice
The
negative
Voice
inside
my
head
talks
nonstop.
It
has
since
the
middle
of
seventh
grade.
It's
louder
than
the
hunger
in
my
stomach.
I
weigh
myself
10
times
per
day.
Then
15
times
per
day.
Then
20
times
per
day.
The
lower
the
number
on
the
scale
goes,
the
bigger
I
feel.
The
bigger
I
feel,
the
less
I
eat.
The
less
I
eat,
the
less
I
feel.
I
make
my
body
smaller
and
smaller
and
smaller.
I
punish
myself
day
after
day.
Why?
For
taking
up
too
much
space.
For
being
me.
For
breathing.
Clothes
I own
two pairs of
overalls:
one denim,
one corduroy.
I wear
a pair
every day
to school
Sometimes
I wear a big sweatshirt
over the overalls.
Most
people
think
it's
strange.
But
waistbands,
seams,
fabrics
make me feel
itchy,
gross.
Aware of
every inch of my body,
every movement.
Aware of
how the denim
touches my
collarbone.
Aware of
how the corduroy
rubs against my
thigh.
Aware of
how my body
feels at every
moment:
itchy,
gross,
growing.
Excerpted from Louder Than Hunger by John Schu
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
An instant New York Times bestseller!
“Every so often a book comes along that is so brave and necessary, it extends a lifeline when it’s needed most. This is one of those books.” —Katherine Applegate, author of the Newbery Medal–winning, The One and Only Ivan
Revered teacher, librarian, and story ambassador John Schu explores anorexia—and self-expression as an act of survival—in a wrenching and transformative novel-in-verse.
But another voice inside me says,
We need help.
We’re going to die.
Jake volunteers at a nursing home because he likes helping people. He likes skating and singing, playing Bingo and Name That Tune, and reading mysteries and comics aloud to his teachers. He also likes avoiding people his own age . . . and the cruelty of mirrors . . . and food. Jake has read about kids like him in books—the weird one, the outsider—and would do anything not to be that kid, including shrink himself down to nothing. But the less he eats, the bigger he feels. How long can Jake punish himself before he truly disappears? A fictionalized account of the author’s experiences and emotions living in residential treatment facilities as a young teen with an eating disorder, Louder than Hunger is a triumph of raw honesty. With a deeply personal afterword for context, this much-anticipated verse novel is a powerful model for muffling the destructive voices inside, managing and articulating pain, and embracing self-acceptance, support, and love.