Starfish

Review by Booklist Review

Ellie is doing her best, but it never seems to be enough: not for her mom, who insists Ellie's weight is something to be fixed; not for her peers, who taunt her with unimaginably cruel words; and not even for herself. She doesn't mind being fat, but she does mind how she's treated for it. Now, as the threat of bariatric surgery grows, Ellie must find it within herself to stand up to the ones who pushed her to create the Fat Girl Rules--including herself. Fipps bursts onto the middle-grade scene with her debut, a verse novel that shines because of Ellie's keen and emotionally striking observations. As she draws readers in with her smart and succinct voice, Ellie navigates the difficult map of knowing she deserves better treatment while struggling with the conflict that's necessary to achieve it. Fipps hands her young narrator several difficult life lessons, including how to self-advocate, how not to internalization of the words of others, and what it means to defend yourself. Ellie's story will delight readers who long to see an impassioned young woman seize an unapologetic victory.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Told in verse, this affirming representation of fatness stars Ellie Montgomery-Hofstein, 11, who, to avoid the bullying she's endured since the age of five, lives by the Fat Girl Rules--the unspoken rules one learns "when you break them--/ and suffer/ the consequences." Finding solace from taunts and judgment in her fenced-in backyard's pool, Ellie, who is half-Christian, half-Jewish, and presumed white, enjoys sprawling in the water like a starfish, weightless and free. When her best friend Viv moves away, Ellie feels alone at her Dallas, Tex., school, but she soon forms a tentative bond with her new neighbor, Catalina Rodriguez, whose boisterous, loving Mexican family makes her feel accepted for who she is. With support from new friends, her father, and a therapist who acknowledges her feelings and helps her find her voice, Ellie finds the strength to stand up to her bullies, including her mother, who pressures Ellie to undergo bariatric surgery, and verbally abusive older siblings. Fipps's use of verse is as effective as it is fitting; Ellie dreams of becoming a storyteller and poet "to help people feel what it's like/ to live in/ someone else's skin." A triumphant and poignantly drawn journey toward self-acceptance and self-advocacy. Ages 10--up. Agent: Liza Fleissig, Liza Royce Agency. (Mar.)

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 5--8--Eleven-year-old Ellie has been bullied most of her life for being fat. The mean girls are bad enough, but her weight-obsessed mother might unintentionally be her worst enemy--what mother pushes bariatric surgery on her tween? Ellie's best friend is moving away, which means that starting sixth grade alone is only going to be that much tougher. With the gentle encouragement of a new therapist insistently recommended by her trying-to-be-an-ally father, Ellie learns to bravely confront her attackers, including her angrily dismissive brother and less than supportive sister. In finally breaking her own self-destructive "Fat Girl Rules"--Make yourself small. Move slowly so your fat doesn't jiggle--she begins to accept the unconditional love she deserves. Fipps's debut novel in verse finds an ideal collaborator in perennially youthful Jenna Lamia, who resonantly nurtures Ellie from scared to stronger, worried to wow, victim to vibrant. Lamia's evident Spanish fluency also enhances Ellie's growing friendship with her new neighbor, Catalina, and her welcoming Latinx family. VERDICT Fipps's empowering, feel-good title proves to be an ideal antidote to middle school bullying. Libraries will want to stock multiple formats for eager readers.--Terry Hong, Smithsonian BookDragon, Washington, DC

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Horn Book Review

Since she was five, Ellie (now eleven) has lived by a list of Fat Girl Rules: "Make yourself small"; "Move slowly so / your fat doesn't jiggle"; "When you hear laughter, / someone's laughing at you." She only feels comfortable in her body when she's swimming or spending time with her dog or her similarly fat best friend, Viv. But when Viv moves away, Ellie is alone in facing the sixth-grade bullies, who call her a whale, slam doors in her face, and -- horrifyingly -- loosen the screws on her desk so it collapses. It's not much better outside of school, where strangers make rude comments, or at home, where her mother posts dieting articles on the fridge and even takes her to see a bariatric surgeon without her consent. (If it all seems too cruel to be realistic, an author's note explains that these experiences are based on Fipps's own.) Luckily, Ellie has the support of her dad, a new friend, and an understanding therapist who teaches her to stand up for herself. Ellie's simple and powerful free-verse poems intensify her emotional turmoil and smoothly destroy stereotypes ("They think I'm unhappy / because I'm fat. / The truth is, / I'm unhappy because / they bully me / about being fat"). Her strength in accepting herself and learning to defy her Fat Girl Rules is an inspiring reminder to all readers that they deserve to "take up space." Rachel L. Smith May/June 2021 p.133(c) Copyright 2021. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

A girl seeks acceptance rather than judgment for her size. Eleven-year-old Texan Ellie loves to swim in her backyard pool even though a cannonball during her fifth birthday party earned her the nickname "Splash" and endless jokes about whales. She maneuvers through life following unspoken "Fat Girl Rules," chief among them, "Make yourself small." Ellie dreads the start of sixth grade, partially because her best friend just moved away, but mainly because classmates bully her at every turn. The worst, though, is her mother, with her endless stream of derogatory comments, obsessive monitoring of Ellie's food intake, and preoccupation with bariatric surgery (which Ellie knows is unsafe). Thankfully, Ellie has support in compassionate educators, tried-and-true friends, her beloved pug, and her more considerate psychiatrist father, who finds Ellie a therapist to work through her pent-up feelings. As a self-proclaimed poet, Ellie has a strong command of words, and she learns how and when to use them to defend herself. She also makes friends with her new neighbor, whose Mexican American family can empathize with being judged on appearances. Fipps' verse is skillful and rooted in emotional reality. The text places readers in Ellie's shoes, showing how she is attacked in many spaces--including by strangers on public transit--while clearly asserting that it's other people who need to change. Half-Jewish, half-Christian Ellie is cued as White. Make room in your heart for this cathartic novel. (Verse novel. 9-13) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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FOR JUST A WHILE I step down into the pool. The water is bathwater warm but feels cool compared to the blisteringly hot air. Kick. Gliiiiiiide. Stroke. Gliiiiiiide. Side to side and back again. Dive under the surface. Soar to the top. Arch my back. Flip. Flop. As soon as I slip into the pool, I am weightless. Limitless. For just a while. NAME-CALLING Eliana Elizabeth Montgomery-Hofstein. That's my name. My bestie, Viv, and my parents call me Ellie or El. But most people call me Splash or some synonym for whale . Cannonball into a pool, drenching everyone, and wear a whale swimsuit to your Under the Sea birthday party when you're a chubby kid who grows up to be a fat tween and no one will ever let you live it down. Ever. SPLASH IS BORN Now, whenever I swim, I use the steps to ease into the water, careful not to make waves, because the memory of my pool party plays in my head like a video on a loop. It was my fifth birthday. I wanted to be the first one in, so I ran to the edge and leapt into the air and tucked my knees into my chest. Water sprayed up as I sank down. I bobbed to the surface, expecting cheers for the splashiest cannonball ever. That didn't happen. "Splash spawned a tsunami!" my sister, Anaïs, shouted. "She almost emptied the pool," my brother, Liam, chimed in. I dove under, drowning my tears. I wish I could tell everyone how they made me feel that day-- humiliated, angry, deeply sad. But every time I try to stand up for myself, the words get stuck in my throat like a giant glob of peanut butter. Besides, if they even listened, they'd just snap back, "If you don't like being teased, lose weight." FAT GIRL RULES Some girls my age fill diaries with dreams and private thoughts. Mine has a list of Fat Girl Rules. You find out what these unspoken rules are when you break them-- and suffer the consequences. Fat Girl Rules I learned at five: No cannonballs. No splashing. No making waves. You don't deserve to be seen or heard, to take up room, to be noticed. Make yourself small. WHAT, WHY, WHO, HOW, WHEN The first Fat Girl Rule you learn hurts the most, a startling, scorpion-stinging soul slap. Something's changed, but you don't know what. You replay the moment in your mind from every possible angle, trying to understand why. Why the rules exist and who. Who came up with them and how. How does anyone have the right to tell you how to live just because of your weight? Mostly, you remember the smack of the change. One minute you were like everybody else, playing around, enjoying life, and then, with the flip of an unseen cosmic switch, you're the fat girl, stumbling, trying to regain your balance. Acting as if you know what you're doing, like when you used to play dress-up and tried to walk in high-heeled shoes. THE GIFT Every time I see a pudgy preschooler, I want to hand her my list, like the answer sheet for a test, to spare her the pain of learning the rules firsthand. But instead, I give each girl the gift of more days, weeks, and months of a normal life. Whatever that is. BELLIES DANCING Viv's mom caught her dad with another woman and said Texas wasn't big enough for the three of them. So now my best friend has to move to Indiana. In my backyard, we livestream the Latin Music Festival on an outdoor screen as part of her going-away party. Viv starts belly dancing like she learned in a class at the Dallas Public Library, where her mom was a librarian. I follow her lead and our arms morph into snakes as our hips figure-eight. My dog, Gigi, a pug, runs circles around us as we sing at the top of our lungs along with the bands and dance with complete abandon, like you do when you're alone in your room trying out some new moves or making up some of your own. Except it turns out we're not alone. THE NEW NEIGHBOR Mid-twirl, I open my eyes to see a girl's head pop up over the fence, then disappear and reappear. This trampoline girl saw me shake parts of me I didn't even know I had. "What do you think you're doing?" I stop dancing so fast I about give myself whiplash. I see her head again. "IheardDíasDivertidos." She says it so quickly it's like one word. She disappears and reappears. "Couldn'thelpmyself." In a flash, she climbs over the fence and lands in front of me. "I'm Catalina Rodriguez." A POET AND A MUSICIAN Catalina points to the concert on the screen. "Wow! So you like Días Divertidos, too? I have all their songs on my playlist." "Me too," I say. "Who else do you listen to?" "Don't get Ellie started." Viv rolls her eyes. If eye-rolling were an Olympic sport, she'd be a gold medalist. "I'm a poet, so I love music because lyrics are sung poems," I say. "Rap and country are my faves." "I'm a guitarist," Catalina says. "I like all music but love Latin." She chooses her words carefully, like me. But she's not like me. Catalina's skinny like a pancake. I'm more like a three-tiered cake. My fatdar should be sounding the alarm. Why isn't it? THE THING ABOUT FATDAR Fatdar is a lot like Spider-Man's Spidey sense, a sixth sense. Somehow we just know when someone's about to say something hurtful or do something mean. Even in a crowd, I can spot a fatphobe, someone who's grossed out by overweight people. Fatphobes give off this vibe. Part discomfort. Part shock. Part fear. Part anger. And all hatred. SHADOWS " 'Baila conmigo'!" Catalina shouts as the next song starts and she dances with us. "Teach me that one move, Ellie," she says. "Which one?" "The one where you were kinda kicking your leg while you spun." When I dance knowing Catalina's watching, I feel every pound of my legs, see my fat shake, and notice how round my shadow on the grass is next to her angles, so I stop. Fat Girl Rule: Move slowly so your fat doesn't jiggle, drawing attention to your body. But that uncomfortable-in-my-own-skin feeling fades as the music blares and Catalina squeal-screams, going all bananas with us, during the tribute to Selena. If dance partners were food, Catalina and I would be peanut butter and jelly. Cookies and milk. Chips and salsa. We're different, but make a perfect combo, heads, hips, and hands moving in sync. Right on cue as the sun sets, the katydids start their singing, fast and furious since their tempo's based on heat or maybe Selena's bidi-bidi-bom-bom beat. "Catalina, dale las buenas noches y ven a casa," a woman's voice calls out. "Gotta go," Catalina tells us. "Thanks for letting me crash your party." She climbs back over the fence, then trampolines. "Can'twaittocomeoveragain." Excerpted from Starfish by Lisa Fipps 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.

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