Julie Ryan McGue’s memoir, Twice the Family, is a moving tapestry of identity, adoption, and the enduring bond of sisterhood. Born as one of twin sisters and placed for adoption immediately after birth, McGue intricately weaves her story, charting her journey through a 1960s suburban upbringing with her adoptive Catholic family and the lifelong search for belonging. The book is structured into three sections—Identity, Belonging, and Becoming—each reflecting a stage in McGue’s life and emotional growth. Her vivid storytelling captures the complexities of love and loss while exploring what it means to be “chosen.”

What struck me first was McGue’s raw honesty. She doesn’t shy away from peeling back the layers of her experiences. For instance, her prologue—a visceral account of birth and separation from her sister—sets the tone for the deep emotional undercurrent of the book. The heartbreaking scene of her birth mother’s decision not to hold her daughters feels like a silent thunderstorm. It’s here that McGue’s storytelling shines, drawing you into her world where loss and love coexist. Her words made me think about identity in ways I hadn’t before.

One of my favorite parts of the book is the adoption day story in Chapter 2. McGue’s adoptive mother receives a surprise call informing her that she’s about to become a parent to twin girls. The excitement, nerves, and love are palpable. Her father’s corny jokes about “womb mates” and “bosom buddies” felt endearing and reminded me of family moments that stick with you. McGue’s ability to balance the warmth of family life with its darker and more uncertain aspects creates an authenticity that pulled me in. Yet, the overwhelming expectation to be “perfect” as an adoptee resonates throughout the book, raising questions about familial love and conditional acceptance. McGue’s struggle to reconcile her adoptive status with her desire to please her parents is both relatable and heartbreaking. It reminded me of the silent pressure many of us feel to fit into molds that don’t always align with who we are.

In the end, Twice the Family left me hopeful. While McGue doesn’t sugarcoat the emotional toll of adoption, she celebrates the resilience of family bonds—biological or otherwise. Her twin sister Jenny emerges as a pillar of strength throughout, and their connection underscores the unbreakable ties of shared experience. McGue’s reflections on faith, especially her mother’s belief that their adoption was a divine gift, add a layer of spiritual depth to the narrative.

I’d wholeheartedly recommend Twice the Family to anyone interested in memoirs that touch the soul. It’s especially poignant for adoptees or those connected to adoption, but its themes of identity and belonging make it universal. McGue’s prose is as heartfelt as it is insightful.

Pages: 376 | ISBN: 164742786X