Not Nothing – Gayle Forman (2024)

Not Nothing by Gayle Forman, published in 2024, is a tender and compelling novel that weaves together the stories of a twelve-year-old boy serving court-mandated volunteer hours and a 107-year-old woman who hasn’t spoken in years. The novel unfolds in the Shady Glen Retirement Home, a place that initially represents punishment and decline but slowly transforms into a sanctuary of rediscovery, connection, and healing. Through dual narratives – one set in the present and one in the past – Forman constructs a richly layered tale about love, redemption, and the power of storytelling to bridge generations.

Plot Summary

In a retirement home that smells of antiseptic and memory, a twelve-year-old boy begins his summer with a punishment disguised as an opportunity. Shady Glen is not where he wants to be. He has no interest in old people or the stories they carry. After the “Incident,” after being passed between guardians and social workers, he has learned to expect nothing good from anyone. But the court has ordered him to spend his summer volunteering here, five days a week, eight hours a day, unpaid. His aunt’s house, where he sleeps on a couch and eats the same bland chicken night after night, offers little reprieve. And so he boards the 54 bus each morning, his bitterness trailing behind him like a second shadow.

The boy meets Maya-Jade Spears-Sandler on his first day, though it’s a rough introduction. She’s loud, insistent, and in charge of far too many things for a girl their age. She calls bingo, organizes trivia, and manages to scold and tease in equal measure. Her presence annoys him. She seems to represent everything about Shady Glen he detests – cheerful order, smug confidence, unwanted authority. The feeling is mutual. She calls him out on his rudeness, assigns him to bleach duty, and makes sure he scrubs every doorknob in the building.

But this forced proximity – this slow, reluctant orbit around each other – becomes a rhythm. They spar. They irritate. They challenge. And slowly, the boy starts noticing the strange warmth in the walls of Shady Glen. There is Vivian, Maya-Jade’s operatic grandmother, who sings through her meals and eyes everyone like a critic. There is Minna, who worries about everything but never says much. There is Dickie McGinity, whose heart is fixed on Ginny Koong, a woman who cradles a baby doll and sings lullabies to it with full conviction. The boy watches these people and still sees them as strange, maybe even broken. But he also begins to see them as human.

One afternoon, hunger gnaws at him more than usual. His aunt’s recycled baloney sandwich lies limp in his backpack. The scent of lasagna – thick, tomato-rich, full of warmth and garlic – drifts from the dining room. He resists until he can’t. The bus tubs, filled with leftover plates, beckon. He steals a piece of cold lasagna and eats it with his hands. Vivian sees him. Her voice, sharp and practiced, slices through the dining room. She calls him a criminal. The word finds him with too much precision.

Later, he’s offered a small olive branch: trivia duty. Maya-Jade, despite their mutual hostility, invites him to help with the game. He agrees, mostly to escape bleach duty. The topic is American presidents – something he knows well. As Maya-Jade calls out questions, the boy whispers answers to himself, not loud enough for anyone to hear. But someone does. A resident in room 206. A man who hasn’t spoken in five years.

Joseph Kravitz is 107 years old. He’s blind in both eyes, has a back hunched like a question mark, and wears gloves to keep his hands from curling into claws. He rarely leaves his room. But he listens. And when the boy whispers answers to trivia questions, Joseph speaks. Just one word. Smart.

Their connection is quiet at first. The boy delivers meals during a virus-induced lockdown, carting trays to the residents’ doors. When he steps into room 206, he’s startled by the quiet grace of Joseph’s presence. There’s a painting on the wall – a girl named Olka – and when the boy accidentally knocks it, Joseph cries out. The boy catches it before it falls and rewires it on the spot. Joseph notices. The boy’s name is Alex, short for Alexander. His mother’s name is Alexandra. Joseph’s Olka was an Alexandra too. It feels like something has clicked, like a gear turning after years of rust.

Joseph begins to tell his story. Not all at once, but in pieces, like sewing a jacket from old fabric. He speaks of Poland. Of being a Jewish tailor’s son. Of falling in love with a scowling girl named Olka, who read thick books and cut patterns with precision. Their love is not simple – there is war, and fear, and escape. Olka hides Joseph in the attic of her family’s house. The world crumbles outside while they patch together life inside. But love, even in hiding, burns brightly.

Joseph survived. He crossed countries, oceans, decades. Olka did not. He carries her in the painting, in his heart, and now in this strange boy who stumbled into his room with a tray of food and a name that means protector.

As summer wears on, the retirement home shifts from punishment to refuge. Alex begins to feel the weight of Joseph’s story – its sorrow, yes, but also its strength. He learns how Joseph and Olka risked everything. How Joseph kept sewing, even in silence. How stories can be a way to survive, and to connect.

Maya-Jade, too, softens. She shares parts of herself – her adoption, her identity, the challenge of being different in every room she walks into. The kids stop being enemies. They’re not friends, not yet. But something steady forms, a bridge between two stubborn spirits.

The final days of summer arrive. Joseph asks Alex for a favor. There’s a letter, written long ago, never delivered. Alex brings it to the address. There is no Olka. There is only the silence of absence, and yet – Joseph knows. What he needed was not for the letter to reach her, but for the story to be told, for the silence to break.

Shady Glen prepares for its annual celebration. Maya-Jade organizes the event. Vivian sings again. Dickie dances with Ginny. And Alex, who came in angry, now moves among them with a quiet kind of grace. He has not forgotten the pain that brought him here, but he has learned that pain can be shared, softened, maybe even mended.

Joseph’s voice carries further now. He tells stories in the common room. He holds court like a king returned to his people. Alex sits beside him. Not as a caretaker. Not as a delinquent doing time. But as a boy who finally understands what it means to rise to the occasion of his life.

Main Characters

• The Boy (Alex) – A twelve-year-old boy hardened by instability, foster care, and emotional neglect, Alex arrives at Shady Glen angry and mistrustful. Forced into community service after an undefined “Incident,” his initial resistance masks a deep hunger – not just physical but emotional and existential. Over time, his sarcastic defenses crumble as he builds unexpected relationships, especially with Joseph Kravitz. Alex’s arc is one of the most profound, as he transforms from a guarded loner into a boy who begins to believe in second chances.

• Joseph Kravitz – A 107-year-old Holocaust survivor who has chosen silence for years, Joseph is reflective, intelligent, and deeply wounded. His voice, which returns through his connection with Alex, brings forth a powerful story of survival, loss, and enduring love. Joseph serves as a living bridge between history and the present, and his mentorship with Alex allows both characters to confront and rise from their personal traumas.

• Maya-Jade Spears-Sandler – Brash, intelligent, and assertive, Maya-Jade is another twelve-year-old volunteer at Shady Glen, initially clashing with Alex. Despite her apparent confidence, Maya-Jade grapples with her own vulnerabilities, including adoption and identity. Her role is pivotal in both challenging and supporting Alex, and their friction gradually softens into a meaningful, if reluctant, camaraderie.

• Etta Winston – The no-nonsense, heavily pregnant director of Shady Glen, Etta is sharp, compassionate, and vital to the home’s functioning. She offers tough love and unwavering expectations, believing in Alex’s potential without coddling him. Etta represents the stern but fair adult Alex never had.

• Vivian Spears and Other Residents – These supporting characters add texture and life to Shady Glen. Vivian, Maya-Jade’s operatic grandmother, is theatrical and commanding, while residents like Minna Waxman and Dickie McGinity provide moments of tenderness, humor, and authenticity that enrich the story’s backdrop.

Theme

• Redemption and Second Chances – Central to the narrative is the idea that people, regardless of age or past, can grow and change. Alex is given what may be his final opportunity to reform, while Joseph, after decades of silence, finds purpose in sharing his story. The novel argues that redemption is a shared journey, not a solitary act.

• The Healing Power of Storytelling – Storytelling becomes the core mechanism for healing, understanding, and connection. Joseph’s Holocaust memories, shared with Alex, become a vehicle for mutual catharsis, while Maya-Jade and Alex also use stories – even contentious ones – to navigate their truths. Stories are shown as both survival tools and legacies.

• Intergenerational Connection – Forman beautifully explores how different generations can learn from and support each other. Shady Glen is not merely a retirement home but a crucible for cross-generational empathy, challenging stereotypes about age, wisdom, and relevance.

• Loneliness and Belonging – Both Alex and Joseph wrestle with deep-seated feelings of isolation. Their respective situations – abandonment, grief, survivor’s guilt – highlight the universal human need for connection. Through one another, and the community at Shady Glen, they find a place to belong.

• Identity and Transformation – The narrative investigates how identities are formed through names, actions, memories, and relationships. Whether it’s Maya-Jade’s hyphenated identity, Joseph’s dual lives before and after the war, or Alex’s journey from delinquent to caregiver, the book emphasizes the fluidity and resilience of selfhood.

Writing Style and Tone

Gayle Forman’s writing in Not Nothing is deftly lyrical, yet unpretentious. She seamlessly toggles between two distinct timelines and voices – the contemporary perspective of a disaffected youth and the poignant recollections of a Holocaust survivor. Her prose is direct and emotionally intelligent, often laced with dry wit, particularly in the boy’s chapters. The juxtaposition of contemporary sarcasm with historical gravity makes the narrative all the more powerful, inviting younger readers into a dialogue with history through familiar, relatable language.

The tone of the novel is multifaceted – alternately humorous, melancholic, and hopeful. Forman never underestimates her audience’s capacity for complexity. The early tone, tinged with anger and skepticism, gradually warms into one of compassion and curiosity as the characters evolve. Despite the weight of its subject matter, the book never feels heavy-handed. Instead, Forman cultivates a tone of gentle reverence for resilience, ultimately offering readers a story that is both sobering and soul-nourishing.