Book Review: The Girls Who Grew Big by Leila Mottley
When I first picked up The Girls Who Grew Big by Leila Mottley, I was drawn not only by its vibrant cover but also by the compelling themes of resilience and family that Mottley so expertly navigates in her sophomore novel. After being captivated by her debut, Nightcrawling, I was eager to see how she would continue to explore the often-unvoiced struggles of young women.
Set in the fictional coastal town of Padua Beach, Florida, the novel follows a collective of teenage mothers through the tumultuous journeys of pregnancy, family, and self-discovery. Mottley intricately weaves the narratives of three very different girls: Simone, Emory, and Adela. Each character showcases a distinct perspective on motherhood, societal expectations, and personal ambition.
Simone’s harrowing introduction—giving birth in the back of her boyfriend’s pickup truck—immediately sets a raw, intense tone. Her resilience in the face of homelessness and parental rejection struck a chord with me. As she navigates life on the streets, forming a makeshift family with fellow unwed mothers, I found myself immensely rooting for her. The weight of her decisions becomes especially poignant as she faces the prospect of another child while grappling with her own future.
Emory, on the other hand, presents a different battle. As the only white girl among the teenage mothers, she deliberately seeks to become a parent while juggling her role as a high school valedictorian. Her character challenges stereotypes not just about teenage motherhood but also about ambition—she breastfeeds in class, embodying both defiance and determination. I admired the way Mottley allowed Emory’s narrative to explore the complexities of love and rejection, especially with Jayden, Simone’s brother, who adores her despite her feelings being elsewhere.
Adela’s journey was perhaps the most heart-wrenching for me. A promising Olympic swimmer, she is sent away by her affluent, religious parents with a clinical plan to give her baby up for adoption. Her struggle against her family’s expectations and her own dreams was rendered with such an aching honesty that I found myself reflecting on the limitations often imposed by society and family.
Mottley’s prose is largely poignant and lyrical, capturing the voices and thoughts of her young narrators. While some passages leaned towards the purple, they ultimately reflect the raw emotions and experiences of teenage life. However, my appreciation was slightly muted by the portrayal of Padua Beach. As a Florida Panhandle local, I found some depictions—like the imagined backwoods and marshy terrains—reductive and inaccurate. This could mislead readers unfamiliar with the area, highlighting the dangers of misrepresentation in literature.
The overarching themes of resilience, community, and the complexity of dreams resonate deeply throughout the novel. As Mottley writes, “Sometimes a dream isn’t worth the life you lose on the journey there,” a sentiment that reverberates with the trials and tribulations each girl faces.
The Girls Who Grew Big offers a candid glimpse into the lives of teenage mothers and challenges societal norms with empathy and depth. I would highly recommend this novel to readers who appreciate character-driven narratives that examine the complexities of young adulthood. While it may stumble in setting portrayal, its heart and honesty make it a worthwhile read, leaving you to ponder what it truly means to dream, love, and redefine family. I walked away not just entertained, but moved, and a little more enlightened about the struggles faced by many young women today.