Louder than hunger

John Schu, 1981-

Book - 2024

"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"--

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Subjects
Genres
Novels in verse
Biographical fiction
Published
Somerville, Massachusetts : Candlewick Press 2024.
Language
English
Main Author
John Schu, 1981- (author)
Other Authors
Kate DiCamillo (writer of foreword)
Edition
First edition
Physical Description
516 pages : illustration ; 22 cm
Bibliography
Includes bibliographical references (page 514).
ISBN
9781536229097
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

The bullying began in seventh grade. It became unbearable in eighth--until 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--plus a new friend--become 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.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

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 (This Is a Story)--is an unflinching depiction of resistance and disordered eating recovery. Clever use of negative space and onomatopoeic phrases emphasize Jake's feelings of anger, grief, shame, and vulnerability, while musical theater lyrics and letters from Jake's grandmother gently buoy this raw read. Resources conclude. Ages 10--14. Agent: Molly O'Neill, Root Literary. (Mar.)

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review

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

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

This coming-of-age novel in verse depicts one boy's harrowing experiences with his eating disorder in the late 1990s. Jake Stacey loves rollerblading, Emily Dickinson, Broadway shows, and his grandmother, but he's not well. Jake has been starving himself since seventh grade--and concerned adults in his life have caught on. They admit Jake against his will to an inpatient program, where he's treated for anorexia nervosa, depression, and OCD. Jake's striking first-person voice and the ups and downs of his emotional journey toward healing are centered through a variety of poetic forms and styles, as well as journal entries and confessions Jake makes to an angel statue at a park. Jake experiences grief, gets a feeding tube, confronts horrifying memories of bullying, learns to talk back to "the Voice" of his disorder, befriends another patient, and embraces known and emerging parts of himself without over-explanation or exoticization. The emphasis on internal contradictions and the carefully rendered ending, hinting at hope without promising certainty of recovery, are especially honest and notable. Secondary characters are less well developed, and the middle of the book drags at times. A note from the author, who is white, reveals that Jake's story is inspired by his own. While Jake, who turns 14 while in treatment, reflects on his emotionally intense tween experiences, his goal setting is relevant to older teens and includes milestones like getting a driver's license and attending college. A sensitive, true-to-life narrative that is respectfully and indelibly portrayed. (resources) (Verse fiction. 11-18) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

This Notebook Belongs To: 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.