Earth to Moon
Moon Unit Zappa
HarperCollins / Dey Street
While I’m an avid reader, I’m also a slow reader. Truth be told, it can often take me up to 90 minutes to process the instructions on a Swanson’s frozen TV dinner. But that wasn’t the case here. In fact, it was the polar opposite.
So, what was it about Earth to Moon that held me spellbound from the starting gate? Why did I burn through the 350 pages with the same ease as the fistful of Nag Champa sticks smoldering away on my nightstand, one after another? How did I become thwacked so soundly?
The answer: Moon Unit Zappa is a fascinating person who has led an extraordinary, yet often conflicted life. She’s also a gifted writer with an incredible story — one that begins in the late ’60s and early ’70s during her wide-eyed days of Snow White and Aquaman, Sambo’s and Roman Meal.
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“Earth to Moon!” her mother would often bellow and belittle. “The world doesn’t revolve around you!” Well, maybe it should, as Moon shines brightly throughout, engaging readers posthaste, and keeping them enthralled. Her seemingly transparent, honest voice enhances her deeply personal account of a girl struggling to find “normal” in an abnormal home run by an aggressive, ever-present, witchy mother (Gail) and a passive, less-than-present, rock star father (Frank).
Moon writes openly of her often uncomfortable early childhood — feeling “wiggly,” while surrounded by Frank’s “smelly,” “scary” disciples and a procession of notorious groupie babysitters. The dysfunctional home life guided by Gail’s tarot cards, Ouija Boards, and psychics would become even more harrowing when Frank was away on tour, which was quite often. For me, Moon’s recollections of her parents’ incessant fighting, Gail’s uncontrollable fury, and Frank’s unbridled philandering were shocking and disappointing. Additional accounts of Gail’s disciplinary tactics involving cold water submersion and handcuffs were almost too horrific to believe or even imagine.
If I wanted to read (another) book about Frank Zappa, I’d do so. Fortunately, Earth to Moon is uniquely Moon’s story. Hooray! In fact, there’s nearly another 100 pages following Frank’s untimely death in 1993, and the story remains riveting to the very end. Moon recalls feeling like “a hot mess served on a garbage can lid” — “a doormat in a people-pleasing tsunami” — questioning whether anyone would “know or care if I vanished.” And she describes her parents’ relationship as “a Bermuda Triangle of toxic love.”
As a longtime ardent admirer of the Zappa family product line, I always perceived Moon as one of the “cool kids” — blessed and beautiful, talented and successful. So, I was taken aback to discover how she’s grappled with the same personal struggles, professional setbacks, emotional anguish, and physical insecurities as the rest of us. What? Moon Zappa had acne? Like, I’m so sure! No way!
Despite being referenced by first name only, it doesn’t take a Mensa member to figure out who “Dale” is. Hence, as an admitted decades’ long creeper, a major personal bullet point was learning that Dale’s nether region coif resembled a fawn’s tail. I knew it! Thanks for the confirmation, Moon. That’s information I’ve really needed to know for a very long time.
Not only is Moon a masterful storyteller, but she’s also a world-class wordsmith. She points out the “uneven symphony” of the construction crew working outside the Zappa home, while comparing the rapid-fire gobbledygook spewing from a certain “Val” to “hiccuping feathers.” She recalls how her friend’s mother had “a soft voice that sounds like the padding in a jewelry box.” Dude, that’s solid stuff. She also drops “gobsmacked,” three times. Impressive, indeed. But the winner of the “Best Quote” honor arrives at the banquet when Moon refers to one of Frank’s extramarital conquests as “that bag of cunt.” BRAVO!
In the end, Moon Unit Zappa is a survivor. She’s come through a myriad of splintered personal relationships, particularly within her immediate family, and an array of professional highs and lows in TV, movies, and music. But she shares her candid roller coaster tale with a fair measure of lighthearted, self-deprecating humor. In the spirit of full disclosure, I will confess openly to putting the book down (a few times) and walking outside to physically shake off my own emotional overload after reading some of Moon’s heavier accounts.
In sum, Earth to Moon met and exceeded my expectations. Maximum payoff, to be sure. But one can only imagine how Moon’s story might have played out had she not slipped that note under Frank’s studio door, or had Jon Bon Jovi not been a Pisces.
