In Marjorie Kellogg's incredible examination of societal outcasts, three wounded souls – Junie Moon, Warren, and Arthur – forge an unlikely family unit after meeting in a hospital. Junie, whose face has been scarred by acid thrown by an unhinged date, exists in a world that now turns away from her disfigurement with a mixture of brittle humor and deep vulnerability.
"People are frightened by anything that's different," Junie observes, "they're afraid it might be catching." The book refuses to sentimentalize disability or suffering; instead, Kellogg presents her characters' physical and emotional pain with clarity while celebrating their fierce determination to create meaning on their own terms.
The trio's escape from institutional life to a dilapidated cottage becomes a radical act of self-determination in a society that would prefer to keep the physically different hidden away. Warren, partially paralyzed from a degenerative disease, brings intellectual sharpness and wit to their household, while Arthur, brain-damaged and epileptic after a shooting, contributes childlike joy and unexpected wisdom.
Their precarious domestic experiment reveals itself through several striking scenes: Junie's attempt to apply for a job only to be rejected when her scars are noticed; the group's first dinner party where neighbors can't hide their discomfort; Arthur's friendship with the cemetery groundskeeper who accepts him without question; Warren's bitter confrontation with his wealthy father who offers money but not understanding; and the trio's improvised beach vacation that becomes a rare moment of joy. "We're like Robinson Crusoe times three," Warren remarks during one of their makeshift celebrations, "shipwrecked together on the island of the unwanted." Kellogg transforms sadness into something tender and defiantly hopeful through her characters' stubborn insistence on finding dignity in their circumstances.
This pioneering 1968 work predates contemporary discourse on disability rights and chosen family, standing as an important cultural document. When Junie confronts her attacker—a scene of emotional complexity—we witness not just her personal healing but a broader commentary that goes beyond simple vengeance. The love that develops among these three "moon-struck" individuals (as Warren ironically calls them) offers no miracle cures but something far more valuable: the recognition that wholeness comes not from physical perfection but from being truly seen by others.
Kellogg creates characters who stay with you, not as objects of pity but as companions whose courage in facing an indifferent world reflects our own struggles with vulnerability and connection. In their determined pursuit of independence against overwhelming odds, Junie, Warren, and Arthur show what it means to fashion dignity from the raw materials of rejection and pain.