Walk Two Moons: A Novel That Actually Deserves the Hype

I kept expecting to roll my eyes at this one. It shows up on every YA reading list, gets assigned in middle schools constantly, and the cover alone screams "literary coming-of-age story." So I picked it up last summer during a slow stretch. Ended up finishing it in two days because the thing just moves. It's a 1994 Newbery Medal winner by Sharon Creech. Follows fourteen-year-old Salamanca Tree Hiddle, who hops on a bus with her Gram and starts telling the story of Phoebe Winterbottom, a girl she's just met. The stories keep bouncing back and forth until they land on something real.

What Is The Walk Two Moons About

On the surface it's a road trip novel. Salamanca travels from Ohio to Idaho to visit her grandparents, and she tells a story about a girl named Phoebe who thinks her mother abandoned the family. But the book is really about grief, memory, and the way people try to make sense of loss by building little narratives around it. Phoebe's mother didn't abandon them. She left because she was sick. Salamanca's mother died in a car accident when Sal was young. The parallel is there deliberately, not subtly. What makes it work is the structure. Creech doesn't just tell Sal's story straight. She wraps it inside Phoebe's story, and Phoebe's story inside Sal's narration, and the layers peel off at different times. You're not sure which story is which for a while, and that's intentional. It mirrors how grief actually works — you don't process it in a straight line. I taught this book for three years in a row and here's the thing nobody tells you about teaching it: kids don't connect with the road trip part. They connect with the diary entries and the small, mundane details. The moment where Sal talks about her mother's recipe for pumpkin bread, or how she keeps her mother's memory in a box under her bed. That's the stuff that lands. The big dramatic moments — the bus breakdown, the confrontation at the farmhouse — they feel manufactured to teenagers. The quiet ones feel true.

There's also the matter of the ending, which some people find too neat. Salamanca goes back home. Her grandmother survives the stroke. It's a bittersweet resolution, not a happy one. The book acknowledges that grief doesn't get solved. You learn to carry it. That's the whole point of the title, by the way. "Walk in the shoes of another person for two moons" is something Sal's grandmother tells her early on, and it becomes the book's operating philosophy. Empathy isn't a grand gesture. It's just looking at someone else's life long enough to understand why they did what they did. The prose is deceptively simple. Creech writes in a spare, almost clinical style that hides some pretty sharp observations. Lines like "I could go on but I don't think I will" give you exactly as much information as you need and then stop. It's the kind of economy that's harder to pull off than it looks. I've seen writers try to imitate this style and end up sounding like they're writing a manual instead of a novel. One thing to be honest about: the book has a pacing problem in the middle. The Phoebe storyline drags a bit before it converges with Sal's. Some readers bounce off around chapter twelve. If you're assigning this to students, I'd suggest having them annotate the Phoebe sections and flag where the parallels start to emerge. It gives them something to do during the lull and actually deepens the impact when everything connects at the end.

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Book Review: Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech | The Book SmugglersThe Book Smugglers
Book Review: Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech | The Book SmugglersThe Book Smugglers

It's available in paperback, hardcover, and audiobook. The audiobook is narrated by the author herself, which adds a layer of authenticity that some people find moving and others find a bit much. I lean toward the print version personally, since Creech's use of formatting — the diary entries, the lists, the shift into present tense — is part of the storytelling. Recommended age range is middle school through high school, though I've had college students read it in a memoir workshop and they found it useful for understanding how narrative distance works in trauma writing. That's probably the most interesting thing about this book now. It's not just a coming-of-age story. It's a case study in how people construct meaning when something unmeaning happens.