In Adjusting to the Lights, Tom C. Hunley explores his relationship with his two special needs children: a daughter adopted out of foster care as a teenager, who has borderline intelligence and whose life choices are heavily influenced by her past abuse and neglect; and a son who has autism and continues to be a mystery and an inspiration to his father. Hunley’s struggle to parent his children is our struggle to relate to those among us who are different and discounted by society. Poems express his joy, frustration, fear, pain and triumph in parenting, and also the ways that Hunley falls short and becomes broken himself as shown through the cracked mirror of these children.
Another Rattle chapbook prize winner, another 5-star review, yet each collection has a distinct personality. I adore quiet, slice-of-life poetry. That’s what this would be if Hunley had a quiet life. As his blurb says, he and his wife have “raised four children, two of whom provided the material for this book.” This is intense reading and will make most readers want to nominate Hunley for awards in good parenting or courage. His poems alternate between the two children with needs, but very different needs aside from love, patience, and understanding. He adopted the girl at age 16 and a half, after she’d endured a heroin-addict mom and abuse by her mom’s partners. Tender, caring love is new to her, so she mistakes sex for “he cares about me.” His son is autistic, easily startled and frustrated by life around him, which can make him explode with anger and profanity. Strangers yell at his son and at him for not teaching his son better manners.
For many of us, this is captivating poetry. For those with children of special needs, it may provide helpful insights or at least the pleasure of hearing from someone who gets what they’re going through.
There’s tenderness under all the worry, even wry humor as in this poem’s title: “Buddy the Elf Is Acting like an Autistic Person, My Son Says with a Laugh." This book was so intense, that I broke it into 3 reads, while I often fly straight through a good chapbook. “To Mellow His Meltdown” was one of the poems that made me set the book down for awhile to recover:
“…his mom and I worry
about what happens next year when he gets his driver’s license if his tail light goes out and the blue cop-light swirls in his eyes and the siren rings in his ears and the officer says, Put your hands up, and our son reaches for his ID in his Batman wallet, swaying, cursing at the officer who doesn’t know…”
I’ll say it. This was the best book of poetry I’ve read this year. With a week left in the dumpster fire that was 2020, a stack of poetry books next to my bed, and a prolific reading habit I still feel confident in this assertion.
In my opinion, great art—like great poetry—should make you squirm a little bit. It should make you think. It should make you uncomfortable with the reality you’ve been soaking in. It should make you want to get a different vantage point and reassess. This chap book did this and more.
I am indebted to Rattle for continuing to bring excellent and fresh poetry right to my doorstep. As an introvert under quarantine this is a major boon. We are all indebted to Tom for his brave and beautiful work.
Another excellent chapbook. As a parent and ex- foster care caseworker I was immediately drawn in. Perfectly captures the struggle and the love and the boundaries (or lack thereof). I went through the poems again, looking for the perfect quote to illustrate this collection but there are so many. Forget this review. Go read the book.
This is poetry for Autism Speaks parents and people who adopt to play savior and, were that not enough, it's real bad poetry, too. God help this man's children and students.
This is the best book I've read all year. The writing is vulnerable and sincere. Clear and unapologetic, searching and guiding. The book finds us in our terrible and glorious imperfections, our hopes and tragedies and our noblest failures. I don't often do reviews here because I'm usually happy to keep my thoughts between myself and whichever book I've read, but as the cliche goes, when you love something you gotta say it out loud.
A beautiful and powerful book of poetry. It can be devastating to read as you empathize with the challenges of parenting special needs children. Hunley expresses so many emotions. Yes, love and joy, but also fear and frustration as he tries to be the best father he can be. I cannot recommend it highly enough. It is a stunningly impactful read! Don't listen to the naysayers!
I read this collection in 28 minutes, and felt emotions so deep I cried. I’m still crying. I think children should read this and realize how much their parents love them. Especially their dads.
Also, as a writer of poetry, I badly want to meet this man. Maybe go to a workshop run by him. This is what I’ve been trying to do with my poetry, and feel like I’m missing. I’d enjoy hearing about his process.
This is a disturbing chapbook of poetry. The focus on the author's autistic son and abused adopted daughter is uncomfortable. The brief mentions of other sons who are not spotlighted makes it feel like these two children are the 'interesting material' the writer has to work with. While exploration of difficult feelings about, and relationships with, family members is valid... I feel like the writer as a parent has the duty of care to not reveal so many very personal and quite likely very embarrassing (possibly even traumatizing) facts about their children. I hate to think of either of these children reading the chapbook if they could, or being confronted by someone who had read it. For reference, the children appear to both be in their late teens at the time of writing. While writers are sometimes bound to upset people with memoir (poetry or otherwise) I think really anyone writing about a minor would want to tread carefully in these areas.
There are some thought-provoking insights, and there is some imagery which is well-constructed, but in many of the poems this is outweighed by revelations and moments I feel are not wholly the author's to share, even though they were present. Milder examples of the author's entitlement to his daughter's and son's stories include the phrase 'Adoption means the girl is mine' (used in the context of protecting her from boys and also riffing on a song lyric) and the poem titled 'My Son with Autism Speaks' where the author takes the point of view and voice of his son (whether verbatim and formed into a poem or imagined by the father based on experiences is not noted). As my current primary interest is in writing about animals I also particularly find the poem 'Pets' troublesome in all of the ways that linking animal and human behaviour often are.
I don't think that parents need to pretend that everything is wonderful about their children, or their relationships with them, or even having them at all. I think that sharing struggles is important. We can love people and have difficulties with them. Sometimes, even in some poems in this chapbook, being blunt and open can lead to understanding and empathy. However, I think this collection of poetry as a whole crosses the 'whose story is this to tell' line in several ways. If this was an inexperienced writer I would say the decision to publish these poems might not be fully thought through, and possibly regretted, as the reality of having work out in the world is different to the idea of it.
The writer is a Professor in Creative Writing, so I'm sure there's reasoning and experience behind it. It also appears that many of the poems have previously been published in journals so maybe the effect of the poems as a collection is different to reading them individually. I can see this possibility in 'The Last Time I Took My Son to the Movies' but I don't think 'What Feels Like Love' would be any better presented individually. Regardless of how they stand alone, when they are all put together in relation to each other there is an overwhelming sense of lack of respect, consideration or privacy for the children it focuses on. Perhaps the writer is deliberately being confronting to shake up perceptions, but I think it comes across as ungracious at best and to me it feels cruel.
Accidentally read immediately, which speaks to how these poems say hey, here's my world: a child with autism and a daughter adopted when she was 16. Reads like a good documentary feels.
As a writer and editor, I couldn't even begin to calculate how many poetry collections I've read over the years. Yet I can say without hesitation that this is definitely one of the best. This book is brimming with everything I look for in poetry: tightly constructed narratives, great imagery, a splash of dark humor, and most of all, honesty/vulnerability. Because these poems are so accessible, it's easy to miss how well-crafted they are in terms of sound, line breaks, narrative turns, etc., but trust me: Hunley might make this look easy, but it isn't. Likewise, I'm awed by the personal risks he takes with these poems, presenting everyone (himself included) as they really are, flaws and all. That adds an extra level of beauty to this book, and I'm grateful beyond words to have it on my bookshelf.
Hunley has bared his soul in this deeply emotional and illuminating book of poems about the challenges of parenting. All of us have experienced the fears, frustrations, conflicts, and self-doubts that come with parenthood, but Hunley's struggles are particularly intense, since two of his children are far outside of conventional norms: a son with severe autism and a daughter, adopted in her teens, suffering the residual effects of a lifetime of neglect and sexual abuse.
Throughout the book--which is framed as a prayer (with its first, last, and central poems directed to God)--Hunley presents his children as fully-realized human beings, whose worth, dignity, and individuality are undeniable. Without exception, members of our book group (many of whom reported crying as they read these poems) felt chastened and enriched by this slim volume, which reminds each of us to pay closer attention to those whom society stereotypes or ignores because they are different. They, too, live rich inner lives, if we just have the patience to explore them: "a secret mythical place, where my son walks tall,/king of everything in shouting distance,/and it's okay to shout in his world,/it's okay to repeat a name a hundred times/because the syllables taste so sweet,/ . . . a world inside this world/that is uniquely inhabitable for me."
I am dismayed at the negative reviews that appear on this page. They seem to me to be knee-jerk reactions by people who haven't appreciated the depth, care, and empathy with which Hunley has addressed his beloved children--and the honesty with which he's confronted the challenges of raising them and sending them out into the world.
At 40 years old and a single mom of a special needs child, just deep enough into the Covid pandemic to be stuck at home and questioning all my life’s choices, I decided it would be the perfect time to go back to college. Before I knew it, all the pieces fell into place and I was signing up for online classes all over again. As most first assignments go, introducing yourself to your professor and classmates was no exception to Dr. Hunley’s English class. Because my life, since the day she was born, has revolved around my daughter, of course she would be a large part of my introduction. To my surprise, shortly after my submission, Dr. Tom reached out to me personally. Not only was he also the proud parent of special children himself, but he’d also recently published this book of poetry about it. Days later I was very excited to have received a copy in the mail. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book and have in fact, multiple times since. The life we live as caregivers to these exceptional children is anything but typical. Though the daily struggles and seemingly minute rewards may not be as captivating to read about from a more standard audience, knowing others out there share them with such pride and equal devastation as me, like me, is priceless. These poems are inspirational, motivating, heartfelt and raw. With each, the comfort of having that moment of, “Wow, I’m not the only one that feels this way”, is truly invaluable. Dr. Hunley has been a phenomenal instructor, mentor, and has even inspired me to write more about our own unique experiences. I very much look forward to reading more of his publications in the future!!!
This is a powerful collection of poems about a father's joys and worries. I am not a father but I am a mother, and I have felt similar rages, similar tears when I did not know what to do with them but wanting to share them somehow. I found the way Hunley uses stories as the vehicle for his musing compelling. I felt pulled into the narrative, uncertain where it was going, but recognizing it when we got there (if "there" is a place to reach in these poems). The poems seem very honest to me in a way that good memoir does, not just raking over raw wounds but listening to them for what they offer. I don't know that I will read these over and over again, but I don't do that with very many poems, and still they, like these, offer a moment of recognition when a voice says, "yes."
Some poetry books make my head hurt, but in this chapbook, I feel as if I have had a wonderful conversation with a friend. The poems here center on Hunley’s relationships with his troubled foster daughter and his son, who has autism. He is honest about the struggles and the times when it seems too much, but there is so much love. These poems are not cleverly formatted or dense with obscure metaphors. The language is plain, yet it says so much. In “The Last Time I Took My Son to the Movies,” he describes a situation in which his son will not stop talking and the man in front is getting annoyed. They almost come to blows until Hunley explains about his son’s autism. “The man said, Okay. You should have said so before,/and he was right. He and his daughter found other seats./By the end of the movie, I felt bad/for the man. He didn’t know/about my son’s inner battles,/and we don’t know what he lives with . . .” After the movie, he looks for this man, but “I couldn’t find that man among the faces/adjusting to the lights coming on.” Hunley has published many other books of poetry. I look forward to reading them.
As the grandmother of an autistic 24 year-old male and as a former Guardian ad Litum in Florida I was both awed and grateful for the honesty portrayed in this book. It deserves a second read.
I enjoyed being shown a chapbook with a niche theme: the challenges of fatherhood coupled with special needs, adoption. The tension between vulnerability and strength while utilizing poetry as a conduit for difficult expression was soothing. I appreciate that the poems don’t lead, they merely state the way of it, factual, business-like, fatherly, with this underlying tone of helplessness.
“A father is a parachute that lands you safe as raindrops on a lake”
Tom Hunley flies under the radar & yet each book each chap slaps poem to poem with surprise & lyric swagger. This book is no different. It's compelling, heartbreaking, filled with brilliant turns of phrase, & a rootedness in narrative fractals. If you want to read a poet who makes you laugh, gasp, & awe at language's muscular music, then Tom Hunley's poems should be filling your book shelves.
No idea how this book was published in 2020. The poems about his daughter are gross and as someone who was adopted, I'd be so disgusted to read poems by my parents like this.
This beautiful volume is exquisitely shaped to tell a story out of poems that stand alone. This is the real stuff. What it takes to be a parent and a loving one. Highly recommended.
As the mother of a child (now grown) with disabilities, I could relate to this unflinchingly honest account of life as a parent of, in this case, an autistic son and an adopted teenage daughter with issues stemming from an abusive childhood. And as a poet, I can testify to how one's experiences can be handled more easily in a series of poems as opposed to an essay or a book. The poems are lovely, and made me wish that I could know Tom Hunley, as a parent and as a writer.
This chapbook catches you off guard with its honesty and humility. Each poem contains its own world complete with humor and shame and hope. Hunley writes as a father and human who, through acts of compassion, becomes pure at least in purpose. This collection is impeccably crafted as to not see the stagehands or the wires holding up the moon or the God above us. He allows us just to live it, clearly; not only as the actors on the stage, but also the disembodied audience unhinged by his magic.
I read this chapbook in one sitting and found "Adjusting to the Lights" to be one dreadful bore. It is an example of poetry I've read by poets who write about topics that are personal to them that is self indulgent and self pitying. I understand that Mr. Hunley writes about the difficulties of raising an autistic son, and a wayward daughter that can be challenging emotionally. I am sure I would be drained as much as Mr. Hunley if I was raising children. The poems, though solidly written, did not speak to me.