Book Review: To the Moon and Back by Eliana Ramage
From the moment I picked up To the Moon and Back, I felt an electric pull—something about the title promised a journey that was both literal and metaphorical. Eliana Ramage, with her deft storytelling, drew me into a world rife with complexity, emotion, and the kind of raw, unfiltered truth that leaves you gasping for air. It was an experience like no other, and honestly, I loved it.
The narrative revolves around two strong female protagonists navigating their lives through early childhood stress, familial upheaval, and the shadows of their pasts. Through Ramage’s vivid prose, we witness not just their struggles but the depth of their desires for space, autonomy, and the search for identity in a world that often boxes women into restrictive roles. It’s a breath of fresh air to find characters who defy the "likeable" expectations society places on them, portraying their flaws with grace and honesty.
What struck me particularly was the dual perspective—while it took me a while to realize there were two voices, the narrative intricacies made it all the more compelling. Each character’s experience adds a unique lens to their shared struggles, enhancing the emotional weight of the story. As I waded through their chapters, I found myself pondering lines such as, "I could barely believe what had happened to us… our planet and everyone on it, sucked into darkness in the space of a breath." (p. 24). Ramage’s ability to evoke such visceral feelings is nothing short of brilliant.
Ramage also skillfully weaves humor into the narrative, especially when tackling heavy topics like the institutional violence experienced by Indigenous peoples, highlighted in the delightful moment when the protagonist queries, “How many Indians does it take to ID a snake in the wild?” (p. 62). This balance of humor and gravity kept me engaged and reflective, making the reading experience both enjoyable and profound.
One notable highlight was how Ramage incorporated blog posts and comments throughout the story. This technique, often clunky in other works, felt seamless here and added an extra layer to character development, illustrating their digital lives in a way that felt authentic and relatable.
However, not everything about this narrative felt easy. I found it challenging to follow scenes with large groups of characters. Interactions could slow down the pacing significantly, pulling me out of the otherwise fluid experience. Yet, perhaps that too reflects Ramage’s intent—to emulate the chaos and noise of real life, especially within familial settings.
In a world where personal ambitions sometimes clash with familial expectations, Ramage perfectly encapsulates the tension in moments like, “You’re allowed to have whatever goals you want, Steph. I just think the ones you have are selfish…" (p. 247). There’s something deeply meaningful about the conversations that happen between sisters, an acknowledgment of the weight our goals can carry not just for ourselves but for those who came before us.
As I close the cover on To the Moon and Back, I can’t help but feel a sense of loss, not because the story ended, but because I will miss these characters, their struggles, and their triumphs. I highly recommend this book to anyone seeking narratives that challenge traditional gender roles and resonate with readers grappling with their identities and relationships. It’s a complex tapestry of life that reminds us of our humanity, the forests we navigate, and the necessary battles we face.
Thank you, Eliana Ramage, for this powerful, layered read! It’s a journey I hope to revisit in the future.