What do you think?
Rate this book
Range of Motion: A Novel
A tender, wrenching, and comic novel that follows two twin boys from infancy to the cusp of adulthood.
Twin A and Twin B. That’s what Michael and Sal’s neuroscientist father irreverently calls them. The boys are born moments apart, but baby Sal’s brain scan shows a bleed. He has severe cerebral palsy and intellectual disabilities.
Told through multiple perspectives—Gabe, the boys’ father; Hannah, their mother; and Michael—this debut novel follows the Mitchell family from the boys’ infancy to the cusp of adulthood as they all try to interpret what Sal, who speaks only eight words, is thinking and feeling. The twins’ upbringing in suburban Ohio is familiar and unfamiliar, ordinary and extraordinary, as this middle-class family navigates the challenges and rewards of nurturing a special-needs human with a killer dimple who is utterly and winningly sweet, stubborn, mischievous, impenetrable, and above all, very funny.
Michael feels that he alone understands Sal and devotes himself to giving his brother a voice in the “normal” world until he grows up and can’t “hear” his twin anymore—his worst fear. Their mother, a teacher who has given up her career for caregiving, and their father, who is determined to succeed in his research, also struggle with the balance of sacrifice and duty and love, especially as Sal’s health deteriorates. Before Michael leaves for college, the twins spend a final week together at a summer camp for people with disabilities, and Sal does something that changes their lives forever.
Transforming perceptions of disability and interdependence through tender attention to detail, Range of Motion is wrenching, beautiful, and sharply comic.
Twin A and Twin B. That’s what Michael and Sal’s neuroscientist father irreverently calls them. The boys are born moments apart, but baby Sal’s brain scan shows a bleed. He has severe cerebral palsy and intellectual disabilities.
Told through multiple perspectives—Gabe, the boys’ father; Hannah, their mother; and Michael—this debut novel follows the Mitchell family from the boys’ infancy to the cusp of adulthood as they all try to interpret what Sal, who speaks only eight words, is thinking and feeling. The twins’ upbringing in suburban Ohio is familiar and unfamiliar, ordinary and extraordinary, as this middle-class family navigates the challenges and rewards of nurturing a special-needs human with a killer dimple who is utterly and winningly sweet, stubborn, mischievous, impenetrable, and above all, very funny.
Michael feels that he alone understands Sal and devotes himself to giving his brother a voice in the “normal” world until he grows up and can’t “hear” his twin anymore—his worst fear. Their mother, a teacher who has given up her career for caregiving, and their father, who is determined to succeed in his research, also struggle with the balance of sacrifice and duty and love, especially as Sal’s health deteriorates. Before Michael leaves for college, the twins spend a final week together at a summer camp for people with disabilities, and Sal does something that changes their lives forever.
Transforming perceptions of disability and interdependence through tender attention to detail, Range of Motion is wrenching, beautiful, and sharply comic.
296 pages, Paperback
Published October 15, 2025
6 people are currently reading
78 people want to read
About the author
Brian Trapp
2 books4 followersBrian Trapp is director of disability studies at the University of Oregon, where he also teaches fiction and nonfiction. His work has been published in the Kenyon Review, Southern Review, Longreads, Brevity, and elsewhere. He has been a Steinbeck Fellow, a Borchardt Scholar, and an Elizabeth George grant recipient. He grew up in Cleveland, Ohio, with his twin brother, Danny.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
March 15, 2026
Range of Motion is a stunning and beautiful novel about a pair of twins—one born healthy another born with cerebral palsy along with other severely limiting intellectual disabilities. The novel tells the story through the eyes of the characters who love and care for Sal, the twin who suffered so dearly in the womb, and in a way, becomes not just the coming-of-age tale for Sal and his able-bodied twin brother, but a kind of also coming-to-terms tale of their parents, Hannah and Gabe. The novel circles around Sal through the various points of view of each of these characters—how they interact and communicate with Sal in their own unique ways, and how they interact and communicate (or struggle to) with one another outside of Sal.
This is not to say that Sal remains voiceless—Sal’s voice is all over the novel as Brian Trapp renders Sal’s limited vocabulary on the page too, and early on Trapp plays with the secret telepathy of twins by granting Michael a special ability to parse the sparse speech of his twin brother, translating the deeper meaning behind the confirming “ehs” and declining “eh-ehs” and “Mike-as” that Sal speaks.
The way language and communication works is a core theme in Range of Motion, as this special skill that Michael has is put into question, especially by the scrutinizing father, Gabe, a neuroscientist who soon after Sal’s birth saw brain scans showing the severity of his brain damage in the womb. Gabe questions Michael’s “ability” to translate Sal’s speech, or if he’s not projecting himself onto Sal. It’s in one of the moments we’re closest to Gabe’s point of view when he thinks about Michael speaking for Sal, “There was a danger in filling Sal in with yourself, overwriting him, making him into this articulate person when what you’ve made is a mirror.” And later, Michael reflects on a moment where he feels like he has mistranslated Sal’s desires while fishing when he realizes, “He’d imagined Sal incorrectly. He thought he’d glimpse the flash of Sal’s meaning, but he’d only mistaken it for his own reflection.”
This is potent stuff that speaks to larger questions about Sal—how present is he in these moments where he’s so alive and interactive in the moment? And how much is he just a projection of his mother, father and twin brother in those moments? That’s not to say that Sal is a blank canvas or incapable of his own conscious thoughts, but the severity of his disability removes almost all agency of his life—physically, verbally, and maybe even mentally—as those around him try to make him happy, maintain his hygiene, and maximize his comfort. They have to guess at what he needs, what he wants, what will make him smile. The family each have their own in-jokes with Sal where he comes alive—certain little ways they interact with him that no one else sees or shares. The relationships paint the deeper picture of familial mechanics.
The novel courses the lives of Michael and Sal from birth to the onset of their adulthood at the moment of their separation when Michael sets out on his own for college and as Sal potentially faces moving into a care facility. The narrative’s episodic moves are in turns full of teen angst, marital trauma, wit and humor, the beauty of brotherhood, the complicated nature of father-son (and mother-son) relationships, complicated only further by the uniqueness of their two sons. I loved especially the moments between Michael and his father, especially those without Sal and Hannah present—there was a sense of something lost in those moments, a freedom and recognition of how different things could have been had Sal been born as healthy as Michael. In fact, I left the novel wishing that maybe there had been more of those moments, but at the end of the day, the story is Sal’s.
In the final act, before leaving for college, Michael steals Sal away from home, running away from college, from Sal’s care facility, from their parents. It’s a final act of defiance under their parents’ rules, and a kind of test of their readiness for the next phase of their lives, that, for once, will see them separated. It’s profoundly moving in its execution, vividly depicting the deep bond and affection the brothers share as Michael dips Sal into the salty brine of the Atlantic for the first time with the realization that this is the end of their life as they’ve known it for 18 years.
Range of Motion is the kind of story that could easily slip into cliché and maudlin plays for sympathy, but Trapp renders it here with a tenderness and thematic complexity that makes even its most sentimental moments feel earned, paying off the incredible foundation of fully-realized characters and a uniquely shifting POV that brings us the full view of Sal via those who love and know every bit of him. As much as they ever can.
This is not to say that Sal remains voiceless—Sal’s voice is all over the novel as Brian Trapp renders Sal’s limited vocabulary on the page too, and early on Trapp plays with the secret telepathy of twins by granting Michael a special ability to parse the sparse speech of his twin brother, translating the deeper meaning behind the confirming “ehs” and declining “eh-ehs” and “Mike-as” that Sal speaks.
The way language and communication works is a core theme in Range of Motion, as this special skill that Michael has is put into question, especially by the scrutinizing father, Gabe, a neuroscientist who soon after Sal’s birth saw brain scans showing the severity of his brain damage in the womb. Gabe questions Michael’s “ability” to translate Sal’s speech, or if he’s not projecting himself onto Sal. It’s in one of the moments we’re closest to Gabe’s point of view when he thinks about Michael speaking for Sal, “There was a danger in filling Sal in with yourself, overwriting him, making him into this articulate person when what you’ve made is a mirror.” And later, Michael reflects on a moment where he feels like he has mistranslated Sal’s desires while fishing when he realizes, “He’d imagined Sal incorrectly. He thought he’d glimpse the flash of Sal’s meaning, but he’d only mistaken it for his own reflection.”
This is potent stuff that speaks to larger questions about Sal—how present is he in these moments where he’s so alive and interactive in the moment? And how much is he just a projection of his mother, father and twin brother in those moments? That’s not to say that Sal is a blank canvas or incapable of his own conscious thoughts, but the severity of his disability removes almost all agency of his life—physically, verbally, and maybe even mentally—as those around him try to make him happy, maintain his hygiene, and maximize his comfort. They have to guess at what he needs, what he wants, what will make him smile. The family each have their own in-jokes with Sal where he comes alive—certain little ways they interact with him that no one else sees or shares. The relationships paint the deeper picture of familial mechanics.
The novel courses the lives of Michael and Sal from birth to the onset of their adulthood at the moment of their separation when Michael sets out on his own for college and as Sal potentially faces moving into a care facility. The narrative’s episodic moves are in turns full of teen angst, marital trauma, wit and humor, the beauty of brotherhood, the complicated nature of father-son (and mother-son) relationships, complicated only further by the uniqueness of their two sons. I loved especially the moments between Michael and his father, especially those without Sal and Hannah present—there was a sense of something lost in those moments, a freedom and recognition of how different things could have been had Sal been born as healthy as Michael. In fact, I left the novel wishing that maybe there had been more of those moments, but at the end of the day, the story is Sal’s.
In the final act, before leaving for college, Michael steals Sal away from home, running away from college, from Sal’s care facility, from their parents. It’s a final act of defiance under their parents’ rules, and a kind of test of their readiness for the next phase of their lives, that, for once, will see them separated. It’s profoundly moving in its execution, vividly depicting the deep bond and affection the brothers share as Michael dips Sal into the salty brine of the Atlantic for the first time with the realization that this is the end of their life as they’ve known it for 18 years.
Range of Motion is the kind of story that could easily slip into cliché and maudlin plays for sympathy, but Trapp renders it here with a tenderness and thematic complexity that makes even its most sentimental moments feel earned, paying off the incredible foundation of fully-realized characters and a uniquely shifting POV that brings us the full view of Sal via those who love and know every bit of him. As much as they ever can.
January 10, 2026
Range Of Motion by Brian Trapp, is a cleverly written novel about twin brothers, one of which has severe cerebral palsy, and their beautiful relationship. The book depicts the dual mandate of the unfathomable caring and love this family had for this boy and the sacrifice of caring for an individual who is seriously handicapped. It was an education of a beautiful family's journey and it's a must read.
December 29, 2025
A remarkable story, equally hilarious and heartbreaking. I’ll remember Sal for a long time—I feel like I now speak his eight word language. Bravo!!
December 7, 2025
A humorous and touching story that gives depth to disabled people and their families. This is a wonderfully-written, heartfelt novel that portrays characters we don't often get to read about in this manner. It's a delightful read.
March 11, 2026
“Michael didn’t remember a time when he couldn’t understand Sal. It was always. It was in the womb.”
bawled so hard upon finishing. the ending and acknowledgements… so much love and so much care in this novel. you feel it you feel it you feel it so clearly!!!
expert depictions of growing up and resentment and family dynamics that are tangled with responsibility and love and dependence and religious guilt and the frayed logics of preteen-hood. genuinely just incredibly realized and nuanced depictions of difficult and complex emotional landscapes.
“And look what he’s done with it. Look how he’s become himself.”
“But he wanted Gregg and Shawn to see that Sal could have fun, that his life was imaginable.”
“After four years of high-school irony, Michael found Ron to be a revelation: He had no jokes, no embarrassment about petting this downy ball of fur. He was not afraid to be himself.” earnestness and wonder!!! yea babey
bawled so hard upon finishing. the ending and acknowledgements… so much love and so much care in this novel. you feel it you feel it you feel it so clearly!!!
expert depictions of growing up and resentment and family dynamics that are tangled with responsibility and love and dependence and religious guilt and the frayed logics of preteen-hood. genuinely just incredibly realized and nuanced depictions of difficult and complex emotional landscapes.
“And look what he’s done with it. Look how he’s become himself.”
“But he wanted Gregg and Shawn to see that Sal could have fun, that his life was imaginable.”
“After four years of high-school irony, Michael found Ron to be a revelation: He had no jokes, no embarrassment about petting this downy ball of fur. He was not afraid to be himself.” earnestness and wonder!!! yea babey
February 23, 2026
One of the few collections that earns it's tenderness. An unflinching look at how caring for a son/sibling with cerebral palsy defines a family. Told though shifting perspectives, we see each character come to define themselves in how they give care to Sal. And, by not speaking for Sal, Trapp also captures the anxiety of never being able to fully know what is in another's head, especially when they are limited to only eight words. Part bildungsroman part documentary of a fictional family part comedy part tragedy, it's many things and yet somehow more than all of them. If it doesn't break your heart, you're not my friend.
January 18, 2026
A brotherly tale told with heart and humor. Highly recommend.
March 6, 2026
This goes beyond a sob story one might expect to find in a novel with a disabled character, let alone one in which they are the center, the core of gravity pulling everyone in and keeping them suspended. There is sadness, yes (I cried a few times reading this), but there is also profoundness and levity. We all have our own range of motion, our own limitations and expressions of mobility. This novel really showed the effects of a disability not just on a disabled child, but his family too. This novel also stressed the importance of not superimposing one's own thoughts onto a disabled person, and of finding the balance between codependence and independence, of allowing a person to be an interdependent individual. Additionally, I liked the perspective shifts and the messy rawness portrayed in the family's interactions and thoughts.
November 30, 2025
I loved the comedic approach to a touching story. Brilliantly written and very entertaining.
October 22, 2025
First novels are funny things. Many end up in desk drawers or on hard drives, having failed to find publishers to champion them. Some make it into the reading world and are respectable, even enjoyable, but ultimately not the kind of books that remain with a reader over the long term.
And then, there are first novels like Brian Trapp’s "Range of Motion." This beautifully written story of twin brothers – one with normal intelligence and abilities, the other with multiple, severe special needs – is the kind of book that changes one’s perspective on the blessings of life and the bonds that sometimes forcefully, sometimes tenuously hold a family together.
Trapp’s writing immerses the reader in the lives of twins Michael and Sal. The reader comes to understand Michael’s love for and devotion to Sal, as well as his guilt over being the twin without special needs. The efforts of the boys’ parents, too, cut to the core. There is Gabe, the scientist father, struggling to support his family in the face of a slowly failing research career, and Hannah, the twins’ mother, whose life since the boys’ birth has revolved largely around Sal’s care. Indeed, Hannah’s ability to care for her family is breathtaking; as she is repeatedly pushed to her breaking point, she manages to extend her range of motion and hold herself and everyone else together.
Perhaps it is the family’s togetherness that makes this novel so special. As grueling as it is to care for a child confined to a wheelchair, a child who communicates with facial expressions and an eight-word vocabulary, the family’s love for Sal, and his love for his parents and brother, are profound. They are a tight, cohesive unit willing to face whatever comes together. They fight insurance companies, school administrators, and childhood bullies to ensure Sal has access to the best care and experiences available. They joke and laugh together. They have disagreements. They are, in every way that matters, a typical family.
There is one final piece of magic in Trapp’s book, and it might be the most important. His writing allows the reader to get to know Sal as a person, a fellow human being, and to overcome the all-too-common initial reaction that individuals with special needs are unrelatable or somehow “other.” By the end of the story, I loved Sal, as well as the rest of his family.
Emotional, hilarious, and unflinchingly real, Brian Trapp’s "Range of Motion" is, quite simply, an amazing novel.
And then, there are first novels like Brian Trapp’s "Range of Motion." This beautifully written story of twin brothers – one with normal intelligence and abilities, the other with multiple, severe special needs – is the kind of book that changes one’s perspective on the blessings of life and the bonds that sometimes forcefully, sometimes tenuously hold a family together.
Trapp’s writing immerses the reader in the lives of twins Michael and Sal. The reader comes to understand Michael’s love for and devotion to Sal, as well as his guilt over being the twin without special needs. The efforts of the boys’ parents, too, cut to the core. There is Gabe, the scientist father, struggling to support his family in the face of a slowly failing research career, and Hannah, the twins’ mother, whose life since the boys’ birth has revolved largely around Sal’s care. Indeed, Hannah’s ability to care for her family is breathtaking; as she is repeatedly pushed to her breaking point, she manages to extend her range of motion and hold herself and everyone else together.
Perhaps it is the family’s togetherness that makes this novel so special. As grueling as it is to care for a child confined to a wheelchair, a child who communicates with facial expressions and an eight-word vocabulary, the family’s love for Sal, and his love for his parents and brother, are profound. They are a tight, cohesive unit willing to face whatever comes together. They fight insurance companies, school administrators, and childhood bullies to ensure Sal has access to the best care and experiences available. They joke and laugh together. They have disagreements. They are, in every way that matters, a typical family.
There is one final piece of magic in Trapp’s book, and it might be the most important. His writing allows the reader to get to know Sal as a person, a fellow human being, and to overcome the all-too-common initial reaction that individuals with special needs are unrelatable or somehow “other.” By the end of the story, I loved Sal, as well as the rest of his family.
Emotional, hilarious, and unflinchingly real, Brian Trapp’s "Range of Motion" is, quite simply, an amazing novel.
January 5, 2026
I wish I had read this book as a young nurse working my first part-time job in a pediatric nursing facility. I had no experience caring for children with disabilities, and while I can still see the faces of some of the children I cared for, I don’t remember feeling attached to any of them. I simply didn’t know how. Few families came to visit, and at the time I assumed they didn’t know how either.
What a gift this book is to families who are trying to unite, to do their best, and to be the kind of family that loves deeply, laughs often, and functions as a cargiving team—each member contributing in their own way. Even Gabe, the twins’ father, shows up in the role he believes is his to play: providing levity, stability, and income.
This book is also a gift to young health professionals. It offers a deeper understanding of empathy—not as a single skill, but as something expressed in many different ways. It gently teaches that caring is not one-size-fits-all, and that presence, patience, and curiosity matter just as much as clinical competence.
And it is a gift to anyone who wants to support a family in their community. Real support can only come from understanding what daily life at home looks like. This book opens that door.
Finally, kudos to the author for acknowledging “secret communication” (but honestly, who wouldn’t want to experience it? a reason to be envious of Michael!)—and for reminding readers that there are many ways to listen, connect, and communicate if we are willing to pay attention.
This gift of a book is a recommended read for families, caregivers, health professionals, and neighbors seeking deeper understanding and compassion for families living with a neurodivergent family member.
What a gift this book is to families who are trying to unite, to do their best, and to be the kind of family that loves deeply, laughs often, and functions as a cargiving team—each member contributing in their own way. Even Gabe, the twins’ father, shows up in the role he believes is his to play: providing levity, stability, and income.
This book is also a gift to young health professionals. It offers a deeper understanding of empathy—not as a single skill, but as something expressed in many different ways. It gently teaches that caring is not one-size-fits-all, and that presence, patience, and curiosity matter just as much as clinical competence.
And it is a gift to anyone who wants to support a family in their community. Real support can only come from understanding what daily life at home looks like. This book opens that door.
Finally, kudos to the author for acknowledging “secret communication” (but honestly, who wouldn’t want to experience it? a reason to be envious of Michael!)—and for reminding readers that there are many ways to listen, connect, and communicate if we are willing to pay attention.
This gift of a book is a recommended read for families, caregivers, health professionals, and neighbors seeking deeper understanding and compassion for families living with a neurodivergent family member.
Want to Read
January 29, 2026I want to read this but I’m… scared. I have cerebral palsy myself (literally from a brain bleed like Sal’s), and I’m a fraternal twin whose brother was a wheelchair user from Duchenne muscular dystrophy. He died a month before our 20th birthday. So to say this book will likely hit close to home is an understatement. I don’t know if I’m ready for it, even 17 years after my twin’s death.
March 10, 2026
A wonderful book about brotherly love, twins, disability, and life - all tied together with an incredible sense of humor. This book had me laughing, crying, reminiscing. As a twin myself, there was so much I could relate to, and the author did an amazing job portraying the twin relationship in written words. I can’t wait for another book by Brian Trapp.
March 12, 2026
I absolutely loved this novel. There were moments when I laughed, cried, yelled, and smiled alongside the characters. The story never has a dull moment, and before you even realize it, you have learned a great deal about disability.
May 24, 2025
Center for Fiction First Novel Prize read
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews