There’s something disconcerting about disliking a book where a child suffers horribly. It makes you feel like a heartless monster. But here I am, not liking Girlchild by Tupelo Hassman.

In this case, I don’t blame callousness for the dislike, but rather the clever way the story is told. Hassman has chosen to tell Rory Dawn Hendrix’s story by way of word collage. The novel is a mishmash of first-person narrative, social worker reports, and occasional chapters from the Girl Scout’s Handbook as translated by Rory. There’s also math problems, bartending guides, and other sort of wordy ephemera. What’s not there? A straight cohesive story that allows you to get close to the main character/narrator.

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