TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME, JUNIE MOON by Marjorie Kellogg
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TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME, JUNIE MOON

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KIRKUS REVIEW

Once upon a time right now there was a paraplegic (Warren, shot in the back by his friend) and a young man Arthur (with a fatally progressive nervous disease) and Junie Moon (whose face had been brutally disfigured by a lover) who met in a state hospital. In their misery loves company, they decided to go and live together and the welfare people released them--to a house with a big banyan tree with an owl watching over them. . . . ""Freaksville. . . . Don't it just get you where you live."" It just might, because this sick, sad, sweet fairytale has that essential quality of hope which makes life livable for people like this and bearable for others--somewhere, somehow, there will be something? Of course it is love, the love of Arthur for Junie Moon and of Mario, the fish man, who sends them all on a vacation in his truck, and. . . and. . . and. . . . This novel, which is compounded with a strange ""juxtaposition of love and horror"" has a kind of innocence and a humor which is gently askew and which makes every accommodation possible. Some people look twice at Junie Moon. You should too. . . she's got Soul and a spirit life cannot diminish.

Pub Date: Oct. 4th, 1968
Publisher: Farrar, Straus & Giroux