Book 10: The Irresistible Henry House by Lisa Grunwald

I suspect The Irresistible Henry House is getting a lot of attention (I came to it through NPR) more because its premise is so fascinating than because it's a great novel. The premise is this: up until the '60's, a number of home economics programs in colleges around the country borrowed real babies from orphanages so that the students could gain experience in child care and try out the latest scientific theories on child rearing. Grunwald tells the story of fictional "practice baby" Henry Gaines, who started out as an orphan in the practice house and was then adopted and raised by the program's supervisor, who couldn't let him go.

Aside: strange intersections in my reading thus far this year: 1. abusive-by-today's-standards parenting techniques (here and in Franklin and Eleanor, in which we learn that Eleanor Roosevelt hung her first baby outside every day, in all weather, for hours. The baby screamed and screamed until the neighbors finally threatened to call the authorities) 2. The 1964/65 World's Fair (here and in After This)

I found Henry House pleasant and enjoyable enough. The characters were well-drawn; I wanted good things for Henry, and the descriptions of his adoptive mother Martha's life of quiet desperation were devastating. But the book never seemed to do much more than the obvious with its premise: Henry has a hard time forming attachments because he had so many different caretakers as an infant. Yes, and? Honestly, his problems forming attachments weren't even all that impressive; plenty of young adult men with perfectly conventional upbringings can boast of greater commitment phobia than Henry. The book mentions that he was born in June, and I thought he was acting like a pretty typical Gemini, really. This is (according to a blurb I just read on Amazon) Grunwald's first foray into historical fiction, and it shows. Henry runs around bumping into various 60's icons (Walt Disney, Julie Andrews, the Beatles), but it all feels a bit forced. Henry never seems like a product of his time; more like a tourist plunked down in the '60's and observing it from the outside along with the reader.

I feel like I never say nice things about books. Or like I have a lot more to say about books I don't like than books I like. Or what I don't like about books than what I do like about them, anyway.  Hmm. I will have to work on that.