How All This Started

Philadelphia Inquirer

Raw and immediate. Abilene drives what becomes a suspenseful, heartbreaking, and ultimately redemptive adventure in growing up.

USA Today

[This book] is really about the mystery and terrible beauty of families and about learning what you don't know.

Salem Statesman Journal

Intense, moving...How All This Started is one of the best novels of the year.

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly

The award-winning author of nonfiction (Indian Creek Chronicle, etc.) and several story collections (Dry Rain, etc.), Fromm delivers a quiet but gripping debut whose themes are family, baseball and two kinds of talent -- frustrated and flourishing. As the novel opens, 15-year-old Austin Scheer waits out the kind of wind storm that chills and carries rain to the west Texas desert where he and his family live. But this wind doesn't bring rain, it brings home Austin's wild older sister Abilene, who had disappeared for a week. Austin and Abilene, named for the cities where they were conceived, are uncommonly close and share the dream of becoming pitchers. For 20-year-old Abilene, that dream has already died: she's a girl and a difficult girl at that -- too quick, sassy and confident. Abilene isn't about to let her brother miss his chance, and once she recovers from her manic spree and the depression that follows, she spends her evenings training Austin. Though her devotion to her brother is extravagant, her training tactics are abusive, calling into question her real motive. It becomes increasingly clear that Abilene's mood swings are dangerous and that, under her influence, Austin may lose his chance for any career in baseball. Fromm has limited his range for this novel, inscribing only the siblings and their parents, Clay and Ruby, in a few Texas desert locales. He focuses instead on the nuances of Austin and Abilene's relationship, as well as the passion and poetry of pitching. Fromm's portrayal of the elder Scheers is especially satisfying. At first, they appear as sad as their children believe they are, hopeless people who spend their days retelling the story of "how all this started." As the novel progresses, the younger Scheers' understanding of their parents deepens, and the children seem truly to mature. Baseball lovers will want to read this book, but so will anyone who has loved a difficult sibling.

VOYA

Promising high school baseball player Austin Scheer is poised to be the next Nolan Ryan. His sister, Abilene, is determined to make it happen. At first, Austin believes that Abilene's dogged determination is in his best interest. He also believes that her violent mood swings, abusive behavior, and lengthy disappearances are just a phase. Austin's protectiveness of and blind loyalty to Abilene make it virtually impossible for him to accept the fact that she is a manic-depressive in desperate need of medication. Austin is just as much a captive of Abilene's mental illness as she is, musing "I suddenly wondered if this was what Abilene's world was like: her head filled with her very own stars; captivating at first, but finally terrifying when she realized that everything else that was light had gone dark." After a slow beginning, Fromm envelops readers in the story and takes them for a ride as they experience the ups and downs of the rapid cycle of Abilene's illness. An intense, at times painful but humorous read, the novel is satisfying and remarkable. This book will be a treat for baseball fans, but nonfans will enjoy the story equally as Austin figures out a way to live for himself and still love his sister. This appealing title is suited best for older teens, who should find it realistic and well written. It is a good choice for a high school or public library young adult collection. VOYA CODES: 5Q 4P S A/YA (Hard to imagine it being any better written; Broad general YA appeal; Senior High, defined as grades 10 to 12; Adult and Young Adult). 2000, Picador USA/St. Martin's, 305p, $23. Ages 15 to Adult. Reviewer: Nicole A. Cooke

Library Journal

Fromm's first novel is the story of a family on the verge of falling apart, held together by little more than baseball. Set in Texas, it focuses on Austin, a promising 15-year-old pitcher, and his older sister Abilene, a fireballing pitcher herself, whose earlier attempt to force her way onto the Pecos High School baseball team has left a lasting scar. His best friend as well as pitching coach, Austin idolizes his sister to such a degree that he's unable to see how her increasingly severe case of bipolar disorder is affecting their relationship and the family as a whole. Ever in denial, he attempts to shield her from the interventions of family and mental health professionals as she teeters toward a potentially violent breakdown. The tension and tenderness inherent in Austin and Abilene's relationship carry this emotionally rich and often emotionally wrenching tale. For most public libraries.--Lawrence Rungren, Merrimack Valley Lib. Consortium, Andover, MA Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

A wistful, moving first novel from the Montana storywriter (Dry Rain, 1997; Blood Knot, 1998, etc.) concentrates with sometimes riveting, sometimes labored intensity on the troubled loving relationship between a brother and sister growing up, and apart from their parents, in a West Texas backwater.

From the Publisher

“[How All This Started] is really about the mystery and terrible beauty of families and about learning what you don’t know.” —USA Today

“Raw and immediate. Abilene drives what becomes a suspenseful, heartbreaking, and ultimately redemptive adventure in growing up.” —Philadelphia Inquirer

“Pete Fromm’s first novel lays bare the raw nerve of love.” —The New York Times Book Review

“A wistful, moving first novel...a powerful and promising debut from a diligent writer" —Kirkus Reviews

“How All This Started offers a vivid perspective from the pitcher’s mound, in this case, from the West Texas desert. A gutsy effort in the manner of McGuane and McMurtry, full of mesquite, cresote and one girl’s violent encounters with herself.” —Los Angeles Times