Even though he likes helping people, Jake, who avoids kids his own age, mirrors and food, must help himself when the destructive voices inside get to be too much, in this raw and transformative novel-in-verse about managing and articulating pain, and embracing self-acceptance, support and love. - (Baker & Taylor)
Even though he likes helping people, Jake, who avoids kids his own age, mirrors and food, must help himself when the destructive voices inside get to be too much, in this raw and transformative novel-in-verse about managing and articulating pain, and embracing self-acceptance, support and love. Simultaneous eBook. - (Baker & Taylor)
A New York Times bestseller!
A Schneider Family Book Award Honor Book
“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 the New York Times bestseller 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. - (Random House, Inc.)
John Schu is the author of the acclaimed picture books This Is a School, illustrated by Veronica Miller Jamison, and This Is a Story, illustrated by Caldecott Honoree Lauren Castillo. He also wrote the adult study The Gift of Story: Exploring the Affective Side of the Reading Life and was named a Library Journal Mover and Shaker for his dynamic interactions with students and his passionate adoption of new technologies as a means of connecting authors, illustrators, books, and readers. Children’s librarian for Bookelicious, part-time lecturer at Rutgers University, and former Ambassador of School Libraries for Scholastic Book Fairs, Mr. Schu—as he is affectionately known—continues to travel the world to share his love of books. He lives in Naperville, Illinois. You can find him at www.JohnSchu.com and on social media @MrSchuReads. - (Random House, Inc.)
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.
Booklist Reviews
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. Grades 6-9. Copyright 2024 Booklist Reviews.
Publishers Weekly Reviews
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.)
Copyright 2023 Publishers Weekly.