A Theory of Expanded Love by Caitlin HicksMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
Year read: 2015
I grew up in a “bad” Catholic family in a very Catholic neighborhood. "Bad" because there were only two kids - ten years apart. My parents had even set out only to have two kids, only they had wanted two close together. I had other ideas and arrived ten years after my sister. Marie was born in 1961, and I was born in 1971, so we are both a bit behind the age and time of Annie, but many of her experiences rang true.
Annie is #6 out of thirteen children in a large, strict Catholic family. The author continues to number the kids for the first part of the book, which helps keep track of who is who. Her father is authoritarian, recently retired from the Navy, and her mother seems almost mentally absent from the kids for much of the book - or at least from Annie. Annie is portrayed as her father's favorite and her sister, Jeannie (#7), as her mother's.
Annie is twelve going on thirteen. As the veil of childhood is pulled back from Annie's eyes, she starts developing a critical, self-thinking view of the world. This doesn't go well with the strict Catholic upbringing her father is so much trying to inflict on his children. The father brags to everyone about his large family. He prides himself on being one of the best Catholic families at St. Andrews. Still, he also criticizes the kids that he was held back from promotions and doesn't have a life of luxury because of them. This is an emotionally and sometimes physically abusive man. But despite all his attempts at tight control, his kids are growing up and making their own choices. He betrays his children at many turns to preserve his reputation over what is best for his family. As Annie sees these betrayals, especially to her sister Clara and to Annie herself, her eyes are opened to the hypocrisy.
Abuse is a central theme in this book. There is emotional, physical, and mild sexual abuse ("The Hands"). There is only one very vivid scene when the father uses a leather belt on Annie's hand at the dinner table in front of the whole family. I tend to be sensitive about scenes of abuse in books, but I was not bothered by anything in this novel.
Anyone from a big Catholic family (or any big family) could commiserate and feel compassion for Annie and her plight. It also provides an interesting window into the life of a big family and a Catholic family for anyone from neither. While the main character is a 12-year-old girl, the ideal reading age is a little older than that. It didn't read as a middle-grade novel at all. Times have certainly changed since the 1960s, which is evident in this book. It makes the case for the world being a much better place today than in 1963, so I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone nostalgic about a bygone era. The author does not paint a rosy tale. It is an excellent Coming of Age story about Annie, and I really enjoyed it.
I received a complimentary copy of A Theory of Expanded Love in exchange for my honest review. All opinions shared are 100% my own.
View all my reviews
I grew up in a “bad” Catholic family in a very Catholic neighborhood. "Bad" because there were only two kids - ten years apart. My parents had even set out only to have two kids, only they had wanted two close together. I had other ideas and arrived ten years after my sister. Marie was born in 1961, and I was born in 1971, so we are both a bit behind the age and time of Annie, but many of her experiences rang true.
Annie is #6 out of thirteen children in a large, strict Catholic family. The author continues to number the kids for the first part of the book, which helps keep track of who is who. Her father is authoritarian, recently retired from the Navy, and her mother seems almost mentally absent from the kids for much of the book - or at least from Annie. Annie is portrayed as her father's favorite and her sister, Jeannie (#7), as her mother's.
Annie is twelve going on thirteen. As the veil of childhood is pulled back from Annie's eyes, she starts developing a critical, self-thinking view of the world. This doesn't go well with the strict Catholic upbringing her father is so much trying to inflict on his children. The father brags to everyone about his large family. He prides himself on being one of the best Catholic families at St. Andrews. Still, he also criticizes the kids that he was held back from promotions and doesn't have a life of luxury because of them. This is an emotionally and sometimes physically abusive man. But despite all his attempts at tight control, his kids are growing up and making their own choices. He betrays his children at many turns to preserve his reputation over what is best for his family. As Annie sees these betrayals, especially to her sister Clara and to Annie herself, her eyes are opened to the hypocrisy.
Abuse is a central theme in this book. There is emotional, physical, and mild sexual abuse ("The Hands"). There is only one very vivid scene when the father uses a leather belt on Annie's hand at the dinner table in front of the whole family. I tend to be sensitive about scenes of abuse in books, but I was not bothered by anything in this novel.
Anyone from a big Catholic family (or any big family) could commiserate and feel compassion for Annie and her plight. It also provides an interesting window into the life of a big family and a Catholic family for anyone from neither. While the main character is a 12-year-old girl, the ideal reading age is a little older than that. It didn't read as a middle-grade novel at all. Times have certainly changed since the 1960s, which is evident in this book. It makes the case for the world being a much better place today than in 1963, so I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone nostalgic about a bygone era. The author does not paint a rosy tale. It is an excellent Coming of Age story about Annie, and I really enjoyed it.
I received a complimentary copy of A Theory of Expanded Love in exchange for my honest review. All opinions shared are 100% my own.
View all my reviews
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