Reviewed by Michael Northen
The subtitle Zaji Cox gives to her new book Plums for Months is “memories of a wonder-filled, neurodivergent childhood.” It is a hopeful sign for those who often expect to hear that the childhood of a neurodivergent individual must have been sad, lonely, and frustrating. Quite the contrary, as one reads the book they might find themselves wondering how Cox’s experiences are all that much different than any creative, quirky child, who has moved around a bit. I frequently found myself thinking, yes, that could be me.
Plums for Months consists of one to two page vignettes that more or less move the reader through the author’s childhood. While there are recurrent topics, there is no necessary connection between one piece and the next. Rather, like Chagall’s “I and the Village,” the various pieces all come together to form an overall impression of a childhood.
At times, the writing is lyrical.
The sky talks to me. Its clouds tell me about impermanence as I watch patches of them overhead through my bedroom window, wisps of nimbostratus cotton pulling apart to make a momentary break I the grad and white and reveal the light blueness of spring. (p. 80)
Sometimes it even takes on the form and repetitive patterns of poetry, as in “Styled.”
So angry at it and how it can only be one way or something is
wrong with me and I am misshapen.
So angry at it that it’s the first thing I as a child associate with
the word hopeless.
So angry at it that the only thing keeping the wide-tooth comb
from breaking in my hands is the fact that this is the only one
we have to help me tame it. (p. 32)
On the other hand, entries like one labeled “Weather & Cloud Types” that simply itemizes different types of clouds, are as dispassionate and prosaic as a Wikipedia report.
If one hopscotches through the book with an eye to understanding what being a neurodivergent child is like, a pattern does emerge. The only time Cox comes close to directly referring to herself as neurodivergent is in an entry written in the third person called “Asperger’s Syndrome,” with the subtitle “what my teacher calls it.” There are, however, several places where the reader might be able to get a glimpse of the ways that she felt different.
Like many people who identify as autistic, Cox was susceptible to sensory overload. On one occasion, witnessing two teenagers in a clothing store, she says, “They talk so much at a certain pitch that I kind of want to curl up and whine” (p. 47) and in her seventh grade school hall, the banging of lockers bothers her as does “everyone’s abrasive jokes, or combining with the sensory overload of bright lights bouncing off gray floor tiles combining with shouts and slamming metal.” (p.50)
Cox describes herself as being quiet by nature and unable to pick up on non-verbal cues or insider jokes, so it is not surprising that she finds social situations uncomfortable. In one of the most affecting entries “The Intricacies of Social Interaction,” the young Zaji goes into the room of her popular older sister and studies the pictures on the wall of her sister among her friends. She looks at the way these girls smile or hold their bodies to pick up clues on how to act so she can fit in. She also sees her younger self in those pictures and feels angry about “her inability to smile on command like everyone else.” (p. 74)
The reader is not surprised to learn that Cox eventually began to be homeschooled. This is transformative because it allows her to be freed from what she felt society was trying to turn her in to and return to the self she felt she was before entering school. It gave her the opportunity to learn in her own way, on her own schedule, pursuing the things that really interested her. It also gave her the time to write.
In many ways, writing was Cox’s salvation. Throughout the book, the author gives instances of how she turned to writing to express her feelings. Writing allowed her to become herself and develop in a way that mainstream society did not. In this way, Plums for Months is not simply an optimistic book, but one that documents the importance of disability literature. Reciprocal acts of being able to express oneself and presenting that to others to read, allows those readers to see themselves in that writing and then share their own stories.
Forest Avenue Press and its owner, Laura Stanfill, deserve a shout out for publishing Plums for Months, making it available to others who might relate to Zaji Cox’s story. The book even ends with “Plums for Months Readers Guide” consisting of questions that might be asked in a book club or classroom. Because of its brief entries, accessible writing style, and the subject matter it covers, Plums for Months would even be an excellent resource for middle school teachers.
In the end, however, Plums for Months is a book to be enjoyed rather than analyzed, so the last words should be given to Zaji Cox:
People search for a box, or a category, into which I can be placed. They attempt to pin me down and understand. I do too. But I can’t find a label. These opposites are swirling around me, pushing, forming, pulling, molding. (pp 99)
Title: Plums for Months: A Memoir of Nature and Neurodivergence
Author: Zaji Cox
Publisher: Forest Avenue Press
Date: 2024
Read poetry by Michael Northen honoring Kathi Wolfe in this issue of Wordgathering.
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About the Reviewer
Michael Northen was the facilitator of the Inglis House Poetry Workshop from 1997-2010 and the editor of Wordgathering from 2007-2019. He was also an editor of the anthology, Beauty is a Verb: The New Poetry of Disability and the anthology of disability short fiction, The Right Way to Be Crippled and Naked (both from Cinco Puntos Press). He is currently working on an anthology of disability poetry to be published by Northwestern University Press in 2026.