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A review by sarahbethbrown
Joey Pigza Swallowed the Key by Jack Gantos
5.0
I love this book so much and found it so moving and perfect that I typed out an entire page and posted it on my blog. AND NOW I WILL COPY AND PASTE IT HERE, TOO!
“I can have good days. Entire days when I wake up and I’m calm inside like water when it’s no boiling, and I just plant my feet on the floor like every kid in America and do a sleepy walk down to the bathroom and take a nice hot shower and wash my hair and dry off and get dressed and eat breakfast and all the while thinking about what I’d like to do with my day. And then the most amazing thing to me is after I think about what I want to do, like read, or see a friend, or say something nice to Mrs. Howard, or write a poem, I actually do all that stuff. That is *amazing* to me. I think it, then I do it. This may be how everyone else operates, but this is not how I usually operate. Usually I wake up with springs popping in my head, like I’m in the middle of a pinball game where I’m the ball, and I shoot out of bed and directly to the kitchen where I ricochet around after food until by chance I snatch some toast off the counter, then go slamming off the padded stool tops like they were lighted bumpers and zing up the hall into the bathroom where I try to brush my teeth, but I brush mostly my lips and chin and I explode back out the door and across the living room and carom off the furniture until Mom gets a grip on me a wipes the toothpaste off my face and works a pill down my throat.”
“I can have good days. Entire days when I wake up and I’m calm inside like water when it’s no boiling, and I just plant my feet on the floor like every kid in America and do a sleepy walk down to the bathroom and take a nice hot shower and wash my hair and dry off and get dressed and eat breakfast and all the while thinking about what I’d like to do with my day. And then the most amazing thing to me is after I think about what I want to do, like read, or see a friend, or say something nice to Mrs. Howard, or write a poem, I actually do all that stuff. That is *amazing* to me. I think it, then I do it. This may be how everyone else operates, but this is not how I usually operate. Usually I wake up with springs popping in my head, like I’m in the middle of a pinball game where I’m the ball, and I shoot out of bed and directly to the kitchen where I ricochet around after food until by chance I snatch some toast off the counter, then go slamming off the padded stool tops like they were lighted bumpers and zing up the hall into the bathroom where I try to brush my teeth, but I brush mostly my lips and chin and I explode back out the door and across the living room and carom off the furniture until Mom gets a grip on me a wipes the toothpaste off my face and works a pill down my throat.”