Those who grow up with only one or two siblings may sometimes gaze longingly at large, unwieldy families, believing that with multitude comes mirth, and that these big clans lead a zesty, Cheaper by the Dozen
kind of life. Zanichkowsky's wrenchingly honest account of being one of 14 children neatly destroys those rosy misconceptions. He artfully describes his place as eighth in a seemingly endless line of children born to a hotheaded father and an overwhelmed mother, and how, despite the nearness of so many allies, the children grew up feeling emotionally isolated and ready to drift apart. As evidence of this, only one photograph of the whole family exists, and it was stuck in a drawer soon after being taken, discovered only after the death of both parents. The children still yearn for the image of a whole family, as Zanichkowsky writes: "But we treasure the picture anyway; because it grants us the illusion, or promise, or memory, of family." Only after decades of little contact with his siblings does he reach out to the rest of the brood, finding kinship with people who, like him, have difficulty relating to others or forming strong relationships. With the inclusion of this attempt to finally connect, Zanichkowsky elevates this memoir from a tale of childhood hell into a full, rich picture of what it's like to be one among many. His writing is so straightforward and candid that it takes on a kind of intimacy while describing alienation, like a friend whispering into another's ear about how hard it is to live alone. (June 3)
Forecast:This book sprang from a piece Zanichkowsky wrote in the
Atlantic Monthly in 2000. Many of those readers—and anyone driven by the Sebastian Junger blurb on the book jacket—will pick this up.
