Lost Inside My Head: The Story of a Boy Who Can’t Help Being Different
Lost Inside My Head: The Story of a Boy Who Can’t Help Being Different
The Control Room
I’m in here a lot. I’m always trying to figure out how it all works. The room has thousands of little lights, buttons and levers. Plus, there’s a whole wall of screens with hundreds of movies all playing at once. A lot of the time, everything is flashing like crazy.
It’s total chaos! Sometimes it makes me feel sick, and I have to get out in a hurry. But one day I’ll manage to make my control room work like everyone else’s.
The Dark Room
This is the only room of the house in my head where I can get away from the light and the clutter. This is where I sleep and gather my strength. It’s a tiny place, and sometimes it’s very hard to find. I suspect it even moves around…
In this picture book, Quebec-based author/illustrator Vigg attempts to capture the thoughts and struggles of a young boy with ADHD. The story of Vincent, the central character, is autobiographical, and the book is based on Vigg’s own experiences growing up with ADHD. Characters with both visible and invisible disabilities are significantly under-represented in children’s books. Recent studies suggest that, while 22-26% of people worldwide have a disability, only 1-2% of characters in children’s books are shown as having a disability. For that reason alone, Lost Inside My Head: The Story of a Boy Who Can’t Help Being Different is an important contribution.
Both in school and at home, Vincent tries to focus but is distracted by all the things that are going on at once. His struggles are both the strength and the weakness of the book: while Lost Inside My Head is no doubt a realistic recreation of what it is like to literally “be inside Vincent’s head”, the result is a somewhat disjointed narrative. Vincent imagines that he has a house in his head, a house with an entrance foyer, a living room, dark rooms, a light room, a space room, a control room, and a chute where he stores all the negative and mean things that people say to him during the day. Vincent is able to move from room to room, but he initially spends most of his time in the control room, trying to figure out how his brain works. However, the control room is too full of inputs and just adds to Vincent’s sense of chaos. Slowly, he learns to spend time in the light room where he can shine a single spotlight on what he wants to focus on. In the light, he can see better, he can listen better, and he can find his own voice.
Moreover, the house is not the only metaphor in the picture book. Vincent also flies in an airplane, interacts with characters from one of Aesop’s fables, and imagines himself as Pinocchio. These often jarring and conflicting images further reflect Vincent’s chaotic thinking, but also add to the challenges of understanding exactly what is happening. Younger readers would likely benefit from sharing this book with an adult who could help interpret and untangle Vincent’s inner journey.
The cartoon-style illustrations have a charmingly retro feel and complement the story well. They depict the house in Vincent’s head (with a floorplan, no less) and show his experiences in the various rooms. Vincent, himself, is an appealing and sympathetic protagonist: the illustrations vividly depict his attempts to harness the clashing flow of ideas to channel his thinking more effectively. With Lost Inside My Head, Vigg has created a parable about the first-hand experience of living with ADHD, making it an important resource for inclusive collections.
Dr. Vivian Howard is a professor in the School of Information Management at Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia.