To Night Owl From Dogfish by Holly Goldberg Sloan and Meg Wolitzer

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

 

So, imagine a book that is a bit like The Parent Trap, but with two gay dads. That’s at least a start to understanding what this book is about. Also, interracial relationships and friendships, child custody battles, and getting kicked out of summer camp. And discussion of menstruation and female products. 

 

Okay, okay, Fundies. Please take your hands off your pearls and untie your panties. Gay people exist, as much as you wish to pretend they don’t and imagine your deity wants you to persecute them. Also, people with different skin colors and ethnicities fall in love and marry, as much as your segregated colleges tried to prevent it. Even worse, no matter how hard you try to make your kids as bigoted as you are, the times they are a changing, even if you wish they weren’t. 

 

I mention this, because my parents’ generation of white Evangelicals would have lost their shit over books like this, despite there being no overt sex, no objectionable language, and an overall positive message. (In truth, my parents have made clear how much they object to the books we “let” our kids read, from Harry Potter on down. Since they don’t talk to me anymore, this blog will probably be how they find out we read this book.) 

 

I mentioned The Parent Trap, because there are some similarities, and the book makes a bunch of subtle but amusing references to that movie throughout - something that is bound to appeal to parents my age and older, I am sure. That said, don’t count on it being exactly the same. From the different setup to the surprising ending, there are many differences, and this book, because it is a book, has a lot more detail and a lot more digression than any movie could have.

 

Avery Bloom, aka Night Owl, is a twelve year old girl who lives in New York with her father, a borderline OCD Jewish architect. He is a loving and supportive father, but Avery seems to have inherited his discomfort with the unknown and unpredictable. 

 

Bett Devlin is her polar opposite. She lives with her father in Los Angeles, and is fearless, spontaneous, and a bit bossy. Also twelve, her dad is African-American and a building contractor. 

 

Oh, and both dads are gay. 

 

The book is told entirely through e-mails, voice mails, and letters, so the reader finds out about things in a somewhat sideways manner, and from multiple points of view, although Avery and Bett are the main perspectives. In the audiobook version, Avery is voiced by Cassandra Morris, while Bett is voice by Imani Parks. The other characters are voiced by a full cast. I won’t list all of them, but will note that this is very effective in bringing the various characters to life. I would definitely recommend this audiobook as well thought out and performed. 

 

My understanding is that the authors wrote the book kind of like this, due to geography - they wrote the book over e-mail, more or less - and based some elements of the book on their own friendship.

 

The book starts out with an email from Bett to Avery, with the subject “you don’t know me.” Which is true. What has happened is that Bett snooped in her dad’s email (he leaves the password in an easy to find place), and discovers that at a conference, he met Avery’s dad, and they fell in love. Bett’s dad is also a bit impulsive, and he convinces Avery’s dad to take a six week motorcycle tour of China with him - while their daughters attend a fancy summer camp and, the dads hope, get to know and like each other. What could possibly go wrong?

 

Bett is not happy about this at all, so she does a little poking around online and discovers Avery’s e-mail address, and writes her, firmly stating that the two of them will NOT be sisters, so they have to figure out how to break their dads up. 

 

The trouble is, eventually, first through e-mail, and then through the first part of camp, they go from enemies to frenemies, and eventually fast friends. Which is cool, until they manage to get kicked out of camp, everything goes wrong between the dads on the China trip, Avery reconnects with her biological mother who is a famous playwright, Bett’s grandmother gets cast in Avery’s mother’s new play, and….well, stuff goes down, let’s say. And the plot to break the dads up becomes a plot to get them back together. 

 

I feel like it would be a shame to give any more plot spoilers, because “what on earth is going to happen next because of these girls” is part of the fun of the book. I also won’t spoil the ending, except to say that it isn’t expected. 

 

The book is pretty funny - it has a light and humorous touch, despite dealing with some heavier topics. The story is straight-up fun. Both Avery and Bett are well written characters, very different in personality, yet their friendship feels very natural and real. The other characters also feel believable and true to life. There are no villains, and, with the exception of one bigoted parent of a minor character, the sort of people that seem like you would want in your life.

 

I do want to mention a few things that were particularly memorable. First is the complexity of sexuality for older generations. Avery’s dad didn’t figure out that he was gay until his 20s, and in that process, ended up having a one-night relationship with Avery’s mom. For my kids, discoveries like this seem to be a lot easier - they grow up knowing people who are out, and most of us parents now are more comfortable talking about sex than our parents were, and certainly than our grandparents were. 

 

Avery’s situation becomes complicated because soon after giving birth, her mom has to move to London for a career opportunity that she cannot afford to turn down. When things go on longer and longer, Avery’s dad ends up as essentially a sole parent, and the reconnection between Avery and her mom ends up never happening. At least until Bett takes matters into her own hands. 

 

At one time in my life, I would have found this unbelievable, and considered Avery’s mom to be a monster. But now, having done quite a few custody cases, I can see how the combination of geography and misunderstanding and immaturity in navigating difficult situations could lead to mistakes like this. One of the things the book handles well is the balance between the natural emotions of hurt and trauma and frustration and the desire of the adults to do the right thing. It is every bit as awkward as in real life, but the authors never give in to the temptation to assign blame or make a parent out to be evil. And they aren’t, just human. 

 

I also was impressed by the straightforward way that the book handles menstruation. There is an early discussion of it - Avery has started, but Bett hasn’t - then a more extended section in the middle when Bett gets her period, and the two of them have a good bit to discuss. The authors pull no punches, but just let the girls discuss it. There is no shamefulness to any of it, no implication that it is gross. It is just natural, and the girls deal with it. 

 

I was raised by parents who were not afraid to talk about sex or menstruation, and that is one of the best things about how they raised me. I don’t even remember how old I was when I first learned about menstruation, and it was never a really big deal. I think more boys need to be given accurate and non-sexist information, so they learn not to be mystified by the experiences of half their own species. I think my own kids have been raised that way - that is my intent at least. And having my teen boys listen to books like this can’t hurt. 

 

Likewise, the book is delightful in the way it doesn’t feel it has to tiptoe around gay parenting. For Bett and Avery - and I would imagine most kids of gay parents - there is nothing remarkable about their families. The only thing worth treating as an aberration is the occasional bigotry they encounter. They know their parents love them, and that families come in different configurations, and that only small-minded and small-hearted people feel the need to cast judgment. 

 

Without giving away too much of the ending, I really thought the way the authors ended the book worked well, and the message was really solid. The meaning of “family” is far broader than a mom and a dad and a kid or six. The idea that “family” meant a heterosexual nuclear family is really a very modern and Western Victorian idea, and one might even say an American idea. For most of history, families were multigenerational, often included stepparents and single parents, and extended beyond a bloodline to include cousins (broadly defined) and other members of the household who were not blood relatives but were part of the family in some sense. 

 

So regardless of whether Avery and Bett ever have married dads, they have, by the end of the book, become sisters in every way that actually matters. And other people have become part of the extended family too: Bett’s delightful grandmother, who finds her talent for acting and becomes a minor star. Avery’s mom, now back in everyone’s life. And whatever new spouses any of the above might someday have. 

 

More and more these days, I am finding this sort of family to be one that works for me. My family these days is less by blood, and far more by choice. Because of estrangement from some of my birth family, and the loss of my religious tribe, I have had to build relationships that are by choice, not blood, and find some of the roles in my children’s lives filled by non-relatives. Family looks different for us, and I expect that change will be our future as well. 

 

That is why books like this that celebrate friendship and complexity and acceptance and diversity are great. That is the real positive message this book brings. And, in this era of scorched-earth culture wars, so many of us appreciate a vision of a broader sense of community and family.