Mar 27 2014

Book Review: La Línea by Ann Jaramillo

By Lila Quintero Weaver

DESCRIPTION FROM THE BOOK JACKET: When fifteen-year-old Miguel leaves his rancho deep in Mexico to migrate to California across la línea, the border, his life is about to begin. Or so he thinks.

MY TWO CENTS: “It’s been six years, eleven months and twelve days since I left to go north across la línea. It’s time for you to come.” So reads the note that Miguel receives from his father on his fifteenth birthday. During the long separation (his mother has also emigrated), Miguel, his grandmother, and sister, Elena, 13, eke out a meager existence in drought-stricken San Jacinto, Mexico. Surely life holds more than this! In the note, Papá instructs Miguel to pay a visit to Don Clemente, the wealthy patrón of the area. Years back, Papá rescued Don Clemente from a house fire. Now the old man repays that debt by funding Miguel’s flight to El Norte.

The arduous journey across la línea involves several modes of travel: by bus, riding the roof of a freight train, and crossing the desert on foot. Miguel encounters a wide array of obstacles en route, including the unwelcome surprise that Elena is along for the journey, too. Despite a series of setbacks, the siblings and a helpful new acquaintance named Javier press on toward their dream. At one point, bandits decimate their resources. At another, Mexican officials send them packing south— all the way to the Guatemalan border, in fact. Next, the trio sneaks a ride north by clambering on the roof of a freight train. The risks involved can’t be overstated. Nicknamed mata gente (people killer), such trains are responsible for dismemberments and deaths, not to mention exposure to cold, heat, and roving bands of ruthless gangs. I won’t even begin to list the perils they encounter in the next leg of the journey, the desert.

I respect the authoritative voice behind this novel. Ann Jaramillo is an ESL instructor with many years’ exposure to the true, and often harrowing, stories of border crossings by Mexicans and Central Americans. Her depiction of the mechanics involved is well informed. She describes life before and during the flight to the United States effectively, and highlights the poverty and bleak opportunities on the Mexican side with convincing detail, within age-appropriate limits.

Readers will encounter frequent terms and phrases in Spanish, not always translated, but whose meanings are usually discernible through context.

TEACHING TIPS: Teaching Books offers a detailed curriculum guide for La Línea.

Miguel and Elena’s immigrant journey reflects recent and ongoing sociopolitical conditions. More importantly, they add faces and human emotions to related current events. Students can use this novel as a jumping-off point for the investigation of true immigration stories. They can achieve better understanding of what motivates people to emigrate/immigrate by researching their own family histories, or by comparing the characters’ experiences with that of other Latino and non-Latino settlers of the Americas.

This is a good text for enhancing Spanish vocabulary. It can also be used to increase awareness of rural Mexican customs.

LEXILE: 650

AUTHOR: Ann Jaramillo lives in Salinas, California. La Línea is her first novel. Ms. Jaramillo’s intimate knowledge of the Mexican-American immigrant journey comes through her work as an instructor of English as a Second Language, and her marriage of many years to Luis Jaramillo, a lawyer of Mexican-American heritage who has served migrant farmworkers for decades. In the author’s note, she explains that the inspiration for writing La Línea came from accounts of perilous crossings that her middle-grade students shared with her.

For more information about La Línea visit your local library or bookstore. Also check out WorldCat.org, Indiebound.org, Goodreads, Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Mar 20 2014

Book Review: Pancho Rabbit and the Coyote: A Migrant’s Tale by Duncan Tonatiuh

By Lila Quintero Weaver

DESCRIPTION FROM THE BOOK JACKET: A young rabbit named Pancho eagerly awaits his papa’s return. Papa Rabbit left two years ago to travel far away north to find work in the great lettuce and carrot fields to earn money for his family. When Papa does not return home on the designated day, Pancho sets out to find him. He packs Papa’s favorite meal—mole, rice and beans, a heap of still-warm tortillas and a jug full of fresh aguamiel—and heads north. He soon meets a coyote, who offers to help Pancho in exchange for some of Papa’s favorite foods. They travel together until the food is gone and the coyote decides he is still hungry…for Pancho!

Award-winning author and illustrator Duncan Tonatiuh brings to light the hardship and struggles facing families who seek to make better lives for themselves by illegally crossing the borders.

MY TWO CENTS: Who does not love a fable, beautifully told? Pancho Rabbit and the Coyote is an allegory of migration, simplified for young children and illustrated with highly original art adapted from the style of Mixtec codices.

The adventure begins when Papa and his migrant companions, Señors Ram and Rooster, fail to return at the appointed time. Pancho sneaks off at night to find him. Perils along the journey provide appropriate levels of tension for early readers, but each danger that Pancho faces has a factual counterpart in the experiences of many undocumented Latino immigrants. First, there is—pardon the expression—a wily coyote who promises to guide Pancho to his father. Children will instinctively realize that this coyote isn’t a true friend. Plus, physical dangers lurk at every turn—snakes, hunger, thirst, a river crossing, a dark tunnel, and a ride on the roof of a train. Most young children will accept these scary moments as tropes of fable and nothing more, helped by the fact that Tonatiuh softens each danger appropriately. For example, when Pancho nearly loses his balance on the roof of the train, the range of dire consequences implied by a fall will escape a child’s notice.

Pancho is a sturdy soul, driven to press through by his burning desire to reunite with Papa. As time goes by, the coyote demands more food from Pancho—food intended for Papa. This mirrors the exploitative nature of many human coyotes, infamous for charging exorbitant sums for their services and not always delivering on their promises. At last, Pancho and the coyote cross the border and spend the night in a hut. When the coyote discovers that Pancho’s food stores are depleted, things go from bad to very bad. “‘In that case,’ said the coyote, ‘I will roast you in the fire and eat you!’” As Pancho cowers in a corner, the huge shadow of a long-fanged coyote looms over him. Shades of Little Red Riding Hood! Just in time, Papa, Señor Rooster and Señor Ram burst into the hut, and the treacherous coyote runs off into the night.

Why were the returning farm workers delayed? “‘A gang of crows attacked us,’ said Señor Rooster. ‘They took the money and gifts we were bringing back to our families and left us stranded in the desert.’” This introduces yet another parallel to reality, the bandits that prey on defenseless immigrants. Back at the rancho, the welcome fiesta goes off without a hitch. The rabbit children beg their father to never leave them again, but he cannot guarantee it. “‘If it doesn’t rain again next year and if there is no food or work on the rancho, what else can I do?’” The children insist they will go with him, but Mamá has a more practical wish. “‘Let’s hope it rains.’”

No discussion of this book can be complete without delving into the art. In a video linked below, Duncan Tonatiuh explains the origins of his style and how meeting immigrants of Mixtec heritage prompted him to adapt the art for contemporary illustration.

Let’s review a few characteristics of Mixtec art:

Strong outlines of external and internal shapes
Flat colors within those shapes
Faces of humans and animals represented in profile
Stylized perspective—rugs, tables, other flat surfaces do not recede in space, but appear vertically placed

All of these characteristics are present in Tonatiuh’s art, along with notable adaptations:

Modern settings
Elements of collage
Textured surfaces, sometimes with photographic fidelity
Facial expressions that raise emotional content

To elaborate on facial expressions, take note of how variations in characters’ eyes, ears, lips and posture are used to denote sadness, fear, determination, and joy.

To learn more about ancient Mixtec people and their elaborately illustrated manuscripts, see this site.

TEACHING TIPS: An author’s note addresses the human issues allegorized in the story of Pancho Rabbit and the rest of the animal characters. There is also a glossary of Spanish terms.

Pancho Rabbit and the Coyote is a fable that can be read on two levels. The average young child will relate to it exactly as it appears on the surface—an enchanting story with animal characters that embark on an adventure. Parents and teachers will have to decide how much to reveal to unsuspecting children about the characters’ human counterparts. Children who have firsthand experience or family stories that parallel the perilous journeys of Pancho Rabbit are much more likely to catch the story’s underlying meaning. A wise teacher will take this into account.

Many young children will be fascinated by the art, which is unique among picture books. Since Tonatiuh has incorporated rich textures into the illustrations, kids may enjoy a treasure hunt based on specific textures. Here is a list of those represented: ram’s wool, coyote and rabbit fur, denim and other textiles, dried chiles, wood grain, brick, corrugated metal roofing, prickly cacti, straw matting, gravel, rubber tire, snakeskin, topsoil, and feathers.

Just because it’s a picture book, there’s no reason that Pancho can’t be enjoyed by older kids, especially artistic teens. If they seem reluctant, show them Duncan Tonatiuh’s TED Talk video, “Life on the Other Side,” embedded in his website. Many teens will conclude that he’s a pretty cool dude, one worth emulating. You’ll also find a touching multi-voice poem recorded by fourth-graders in Texas. It models an excellent approach to getting young migrants or second-generation immigrants talking about their experiences and feelings.

THE AUTHOR: Duncan Tonatiuh was born in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. His deep interest in the plight of undocumented immigrants originates in childhood friendships in Mexico and associations he has formed in New York, where he studied art and lives. He is the author-illustrator of other award-winning books, including Diego Rivera: His World and Ours, Dear Primo: A Letter to My Cousin, and a forthcoming book on Sylvia Mendez.

Duncan has earned a chest full of medals and awards for Pancho Rabbit and the Coyote, including:

Pura Belpré Author and Illustrator Honor book 2014
New York Public Library’s annual Children’s Books list: 100 Titles for Reading and Sharing 2013
Kirkus Best Books of 2013
Best Multicultural Children’s Books 2013 (Center for the Study of Multicultural Children’s Literature)
Notable Children’s Books from ALSC 2014
Notable Books for a Global Society Book Award 2014

Mar 19 2014

Diversity in Kid Lit was ‘On Fire’ at National Latino Children’s Literature Conference

My signed conference poster! The gorgeous artwork comes from Laura Lacamara’s new book, Dalia’s Wondrous Hair.

By Lila Quintero Weaver

Let me float down to earth, grab a keyboard and pound out a report about the National Latino Children’s Literature Conference. That was my self-talk on March 15. The two-day conference, held at the University of Alabama and headed by mover-and-shaker Dr. Jamie Naidoo, had wrapped up at 4 pm the previous day.

Sixteen hours later, my whole being still felt tingly with the residual vibrations of what we’d experienced: great dialogue, stimulating talks, and warm connections with people passionate about the same thing, increasing diversity in children’s books. And it’s amazing how many presentations referenced last year’s incendiary New York Times article on minority characters in kid lit. The conference stirred my juices, but before I could touch my keyboard to write about it, Marianne Snow posted a great recap on her blog. There’s no way that I could improve on her account.

That’s not the end of the story. Over the same weekend, The New York Times published a pair of essays from prize-winning YA author Walter Dean Myers and his son Christopher, an author-illustrator of note, on the scarcity of characters of color in children’s books. Spine tingling, timely, and powerful. Clearly, diversity in children’s books is a topic on fire!

And now, back to the conference. Since Marianne’s recap covers only the second day, here are select quotes and highlights from the first day:

Literary agent Adriana Dominguez outlined some of the challenges facing Latin@ children’s literature: “Many editors think about Latino books as niche or institutional.” Neither of these spells the huge sales figures that the industry has become hungry for. She pointed to the Harry Potter phenomenon as a watershed moment in children’s publishing. Previously, marketing departments targeted libraries and schools, but the commercial success of Harry Potter and other blockbusters has shifted the dynamics.

Members of the audience asked how to best advocate for Latin@ children’s literature. Librarians can push these books, Dominguez said. She cited the late Rose Treviño as a personal mentor and a role model in the field of library services to children. Ms. Treviño was a beloved Houston public librarian who served the local Latin@ community and brought Latin@ books to the attention of a wider audience. Her passionate advocacy was captured in this extensive interview by Cynthia Leitich Smith.

Someone else asked, would more Latinos on the “inside” of publishing help to balance the equation? Yes, Dominguez said, because “you’re a stronger advocate for something you truly believe in.” She pointed out that graduate programs in publishing are recruiting zones for the “big five.”

In her keynote, recent Pura Belpré winner Meg Medina raised the topic of universal themes, those that address the experiences of all children, regardless of demographic labels. She reminded us that “Latino” is a uniquely American concept. Many Latin@ children grapple with the additional challenges of biculturalism. She shared that in her work, she strives to present a range of Latin@ characters, a “whole tapestry,” not merely those that the public has come to expect. (In her Monday post, Meg offered a terrific conference recap of her own.)

7789203 Author-illustrator Laura Lacámara gave the day’s final keynote. Her journey into publishing has taken some interesting turns. She was first an illustrator of children’s books. Then came her debut as a writer, Floating on Mama’s Song, a story inspired by her mother’s devotion to opera. But Laura didn’t illustrate it; Yuyi Morales did. Now, hot off the presses is Laura’s newest book, her first to write and illustrate, the delightful Dalia’s Wondrous Hair (see the conference poster image, above). Count on a book talk in the near future!

The variety of breakout sessions boggled the mind. Thursday, I sat in on Lettycia Terrones’s illuminating talk on image-making in Latin@ children’s literature, followed by Araceli Esparza’s “Roots of Race in Chicano/Latino Picture Books,” another enriching experience. The next day, I heard an expert presentation by Catalina Lara on the Latin@ child and language.

Social media is an excellent tool, but let’s not forget the value of face-to-face meetings. They spark connections like nothing else. Next time you hear about a conference that addresses diversity or Latin@ children’s books, consider attending.

Mar 17 2014

Immigrant Stories and My Long Night in the ER

Image by Lila Quintero Weaver, ©The University of Alabama Press

By Lila Quintero Weaver

I have long been riveted by immigration stories. These days, my focus has turned to immigration’s impact on Latino children. I was an immigrant child. With my family, I bade farewell to our relatives, native culture and language, and set off into the unknown. Nearly all immigration stories hold these elements in common, but I have a growing preference for reading about journeys that only faintly resemble mine. They expand my understanding of current immigration issues and make me feel more connected to the wider Latino community.

My family emigrated from Argentina in 1961. We landed in Alabama. Latinos were rare in the American South back then, and in our new home the prejudice we encountered was subtle—especially taking into account the intense racial bigotry that vented its full force on African Americans, and which I, for one, was horrified to witness.

Things have changed in the South lately—indeed, across America, as the immigration picture grows ever more complicated. New stories are bound to emerge from these troubled times. My eyes are peeled for them, mostly because of what I’ve seen in my backyard.

The shift in Alabama’s tolerance for outsiders came home to me one summer night in 2005, during a five-hour stretch in the emergency room. Earlier that evening, floaters sprang up in my field of vision. These are sometimes an early warning of retinal separation. The ER physician couldn’t tell me much. He instructed me to see a specialist the next day. Good news: no retinal tear.

Now for the bad news. During those long hours in the waiting room, I caught wind of heightened anti-Latino sentiment. Out of approximately 60 people seated in the waiting room, fifteen or so were Mexicans or Central Americans. Some spoke no English, and the ER was not prepared. When I overheard halting communication between one Spanish speaker and a flustered triage coordinator, I volunteered to interpret. Soon after that, other Latinos sought my help, including a young couple with a feverish baby. They had returned to the ER a second day in a row and after a long wait, still had not been attended. They feared they were being discriminated against. I checked with the receptionist and managed to resolve their concerns. So it went. My long wait turned into a flash education on the lives of recent immigrants.

As the evening wore on, I overheard white people sitting nearby making snide comments about the Latinos. Some even put on faces of disgust. My heart sank. Alabama had reached a tipping point, I realized. It was no longer the Alabama that my family encountered in 1961, curious about foreigners, but not threatened by us. And by us, I don’t mean that I perceive myself to be a target of revived bigotry. My complexion is too light to draw notice. And my English, correct and unaccented, slips past the radar of most bigots.

But never mind all that. Injustice against anyone offends me, and racial injustice boils my blood.

Alabama’s overall tolerance of brown-skinned people began to crumble in the years that followed my visit to the ER. A recent influx of Hispanic immigrants to the state—the Latino population almost doubled between 2000 and 2010—has stirred the ancient fires of bigotry. I started hearing misinformed grumblings about “illegals” milking public assistance. In the local newspaper, letters to the editor railed against Spanish signage. Recently, a candidate for governor ran on the promise to revert driver’s-license tests to English-only. Meanwhile, farmers, foresters, landscapers, roofers, and other business owners countered that Latino employees demonstrated superior work ethic. We want them here, they said.

Somehow bigotry won out, culminating in the 2011 passage of HB 56, the harshest anti-immigration law in the United States, modeled after legislation in Arizona. Immigrant communities, civil rights activists, and religious and economic sectors around the state raised an outcry before the bill was voted into law, but the legislative body had its mind made up. As a result, thousands of recent immigrants fled the state. Ultimately, federal courts diluted the law and Latinos with strong community ties and business connections returned.

My alarm over the plight of new immigrants took me on a circuitous route to Latino children’s literature, where I’ve discovered a strong body of immigration stories. As an immigrant, I’m finding familiar ground and fresh exposures. I’m most riveted by the contrasts, and few stories present sharper contrast to my family’s safe passage than the books I’ve been reading lately.

This January, I read La Línea, by Ann Jaramillo, and Pancho Rabbit and the Coyote, an allegorical picture book by Duncan Tonatiuh. Both deal with the fictional experiences of undocumented immigrants. (Check back soon for corresponding book talks.) The power of these narratives has led me to Enrique’s Journey, a highly acclaimed 2006 nonfiction work by Sonia Nazario that follows the arduous journey of a Honduran teenager through similar territory. In 2013, an adaptation for young readers was released, and that’s the version I’ll discuss in an upcoming book talk.

Recently, The New York Times reported on the scientific connection between reading literary fiction and the development of “empathy, social perception and emotional intelligence.” How does this transformative effect take place? Good literature narrows the gaps that exist between us and the “other.” When a character is well crafted, we don’t have to share everything in common with her to enter her point of view.

Empathy, or at least clearer understanding of the human issues involved, could make a night-to-day difference in our society’s attitude toward new immigrants. Last year, I was pleased to spot a bestselling immigration story, Esperanza Rising, on the official school-designated summer reading shelf of my local Barnes & Noble. I would love to see more immigration titles added to reading lists and classroom settings, especially those that humanize current-day migrants. In fact, if I had one additional wish regarding these books, it’s that parents would read them alongside their children. Call me a dreamer, but I believe a steady consumption of strong immigration stories could help us stem the tide of xenophobia and fortify America’s claim on the proud distinction, “a nation of immigrants.”

——————–

And now for some related immigrant stories, told through the power of music. A music video directed by Alex Rivera for Aloe Blacc’s hit song “Wake Me Up,” features actual Latino immigrants reenacting the heartbreak of separation and the joy of reunion. The singer is of Panamanian descent.

Read more in Colorlines, where you’ll find a link to a second Alex Rivera music video on immigrant life, “El Hielo,” sung by La Santa Cecilia.

Mar 4 2014

2014 Reading Challenge: February

February was a great month for our 2014 Reading Challenge. What a great mix of titles from award winners to debut novels, such as Bird by Crystal Chan and The Secret Side of Empty by Maria E. Andreu. Thank you to everyone for participating in the challenge and purposely selecting books by/about/for Latin@s. We even had a few newcomers this month, which is awesome! It’s never to late to join this fiesta! Also, remember that you’re not required to review the books you read. If you do post a review somewhere, we will link it to the book covers below. If you choose not to review, we will link the covers to Goodreads. This month, we have to give a special shout-out to Crystal Brunelle, who is a co-blogger at Rich in Color. She has already read 15 titles! WOW! We can’t wait to see what everyone reads next!

A note to participants: As you complete books, please send us the information, so we can share what you’re reading each month.

Feb 20 2014

The Kid Lit World Needs Gary Soto and Others Like Him

By Cindy L. Rodriguez

When Gary Soto’s book, the one attached to the Marisol Luna American Girl doll, was released in 2005, I was in my fourth year of teaching middle school and attending graduate courses. In other words, I was buried in essays–correcting them and writing them–and was clueless that Soto’s book about a 10-year-old Chicago girl had sparked negative national media attention, protests, and harassing phone calls to the author’s home. For more information on the original story, click here.

The 2005 book-and-doll release is old news, but only a few months ago, eight years later, Soto wrote this piece in the Huffington Post, explaining why he has has stopped writing children’s literature.

I’m not going to rehash the Pilsen vs. Des Plaines debate, and I’m not going to say it was right or wrong for Soto’s fictional family to decide they wanted to move because the neighborhood was too dangerous. Those debates were had in 2005.

This post is about Gary Soto, an award-winning, prolific Mexican-American writer, leaving a business that needs him and many others like him. Gary Soto has written picture books, chapter books, poetry, and novels for middle school, high school, and adults. In the often-referenced New York Times article about the lack of Latin@ books in classrooms, Gary Soto is listed as one of the exceptions.

“While there are exceptions, including books by Julia Alvarez, Pam Muñoz Ryan, Alma Flor Ada and Gary Soto, what is available is ‘not finding its way into classrooms,’” said Patricia Enciso, an associate professor at Ohio State University.

Do we need more Latin@ books, written by a variety of authors, in classrooms? Yes. But, Soto and the others are already there, on the shelves, in students’ hands. I’ve read his short stories with my students, and a colleague recently read Buried Onions with her eighth graders based on my recommendation. He is in anthologies and on school book lists. Soto, along with a handful of other Latin@ authors have paved the way, and now he has vowed not to write any more children’s literature.

This comes at a time when 53 million Hispanics live in the U.S., according to the 2012 census. Hispanics are the second largest race or ethnic group (behind non-Hispanic whites), representing about 17 percent of the total population. Meanwhile, a study by the Cooperative Children’s Book Center reported the number of children’s books with multicultural content has not increased in 18 years.

Soto’s retirement from the kid lit world saddens me, as a reader, writer, and supporter of Latin@s in kid lit. We have lost a giant in the business, and I worry that what happened to Soto could discourage writers from including Latin@ characters in their manuscripts. Writers have legitimate fears about “getting it right” and not offending readers, especially if they are crossing into territory–gender, race, religion, ethnicity, culture, sexuality–that they do not understand first-hand. Think about it, Soto, a member of the Latin@ community, was at odds with members of the Latin@ community, over a Latina doll and her story. What does this mean for other writers, especially non-Latin@s who want to write Latin@ characters? Should they not bother? Should they use made-up locations to avoid referencing a specific community? Are the subjects of poverty and crime off limits?

I hope writers aren’t scared away from including Latin@ characters, and I hope Gary Soto reconsiders his retirement from kid lit. Also, wherever we each stand on the Pilsen-Mattel issue, I hope we all can at least tip our hat to Soto for his contribution to Latin@ literature.

Too Many Tamales Chato Goes Cruisin' Baseball in April and Other Stories Buried Onions The Afterlife