Crossing the Line (Border Town Series)

In an interview with NPR, Malin Alegria described her new teen series, Border Town, as being like Sweet Valley High, "but with brown kids." Depending on your view of Sweet Valley High and other books in that particular genre, one might be a little hesitant to get excited. Formulaic plots? Cheesy writing? Kinda lame high school drama? One dimensional characters? Ehhh. Do we really need more of that? The teen romance series has gone of the way of the dinosaur for a reason, yes? 

Fortunately, there's a lot to like about Crossing the Line. The protagonist, Fabiola Garza, isn't your typical teen series character. She's not one of the cool kids. She's kind of awkward, but isn't bothered by fact that she doesn't really fit in with any particular group at school. She actually, gasp, seems pretty content with who she is! After describing the many cliques that exist at school to her younger sister Alexis, who is about to start high school, Alexis asks Fabi the loaded high school question: "What are you?" To which Fabi responds: "I guess I'm normal." Nothing wrong with that!

Throughout the novel Fabi contends with her younger sister's growing popularity as she finds a place for herself among the popular kids, a mean girl bully, and the mysterious attacks on undocumented workers, including one of the employees at her family's restaurant. Is there romance? There is a boy, but for now they're just friends. Which is a refreshing change from so many books and movies for teens where the existence of a romance seems to be a requirement.

Crossing the Line has its moments of teen angst in the form of conflict between Fabi and her younger sister who is in love with a popular football player, and Fabi's occasional bullying at the hands of Melodee. But it is also full of humor as seen in the funny opening scene in which Fabi attempts to by a box of tampons on the down-low, but realizes it's a nearly impossible feat in a town where everyone knows everyone. Lest we think it's all fun and games, the storyline in which a group of teens is attacking and robbing undocumented workers sheds light on the anti-immigrant sentiments currently seen around the country.

Unlike the Sweet Valley High books, the story lines aren't flat, the characters are multi-dimensional, and conflicts don't come off feeling contrived and formulaic. The only character who seems to be a sort of stereotype and perhaps around for the sake of additional conflict is Melodee, the popular (white?) girl who once dated the football player Alexis is interested in and who bullies Fabi. I also have a bit of an issue with the cover featuring two very similar-looking thin girls since the description in the book of the sisters is one of opposites. Alexis is described as having "light-colored skin and petite figure" while Fabi has "strong indigenous features and thick frame." Hmmm. The issue of misrepresentation in book covers is an ongoing one.

I'm curious about the fresas, the rich kids from Mexico. Is there conflict between Mexican-American kids and fresas? I would also be interested in knowing what kind of reception this (and the rest of the series) gets from teens who live in border towns. The text is peppered with Spanish words, but no worries, the terms are explained in a "Tex-Mex for Beginners" glossary at the end of the book.

This would make a great summer read. The next book in the series is due out in early July. Can't wait!

Mexicans in Sweet Valley? Si!

Last fall I posted the link to an interview with YA author Malin Alegria in which her new teen series Border Town was mentioned. Having grown up reading teen romance series from Sweet Valley High to Couples to The Girls of Canby Hall (seriously, I read them all) I was excited about this new series that Alegria described as being like SVH with brown kids. I pre-ordered the first book in the series, and while I waited for it to come in I thought I'd revisit my youth and read some Sweet Valley High. 

While we can assume that Penny Ayala, one of Elizabeth Wakefield's newspaper pals, is either Latina or bicultural based on her last name (I'd have to read the series from the beginning to find out if her ethnicity is ever mentioned--summer project?) it isn't until book #42, Caught in the Middle, that a Latino character is prominently featured. Finally, some representation in the curiously all-white California world of the Wakefield twins!

In Caught in the Middle, popular (though secondary character in the series) cheerleader Sandra Bacon has met the boy of her dreams. The only problem is...he's MEXICAN! Say it ain't so! 

Throughout the book (written by Kate Williams) we are reminded of just how different Sandy and Manny are. Manny and his family are: ______________ fill in the blank with whatever stereotype about Mexicans you can think of. Okay, I'm exaggerating. There's that scene when the couple goes to the Dairi Burger and Manuel mentions that he happens to know the burger is the specialty of the house. I was expecting him to say he knows this because his uncle / cousin / other family member is actually the cook at the Dairi Burger! But he doesn't. The point is, they come from different worlds, and his world is, well, weird! Williams writes on page 5: "After all, Manual came from a completely different world. His family was from Mexico and still spoke Spanish at home." We are also informed that, among his distinguishing characteristics, he has a lot of younger sibling he has to care for which is why he seems so mature. His mom makes tortillas from scratch. His home is repeatedly described in way that indicates it's cozy or homey but the subtext is that it's kind of run down and not as nice as the homes of Sandy and her white friends.

Sandy's parent, by the way, really dislike Mexicans. "Those people" are different, Mrs. Bacon tells Sandy when Sandy is trying to tell her about her new boyfriend. Sandy's parents don't want her dating a Mexican guy. What does she do? Of course, she hides this from them. She lies and betrays the person she claims to love. She even almost lets him get in trouble with the law by denying that she knows him. There came a point where I appreciated the Bacons' at least openness about their views on Mexicans. Sandy? I just wanted to slap that girl hard by the time I reached the last few chapters of the book.

Of course, in SVH style, all is resolved in the end. Sandy confesses to her parents. Just as Manuel is about to be arrested on suspicion of tampering with her boat and possibly causing it to explode, she confesses that not only does she know him but she's actually MADE OUT with him AND he didn't tamper with the boat, he saved her life! The Bacons have a change of heart, at least toward this one Mexican. Mr. Bacon even shakes his hand. And they live happily ever after. 

Whew! That's a lot of SVH for one post. Part II coming soon!

An Island Like You: Stories of the Barrio

An Island Like You: Stories of the Barrio by Judith Ortiz Cofer. New York: Puffin Books, 1995.

It seems fitting that the first Pura Belpre Award winner in the narrative category is by Judith Ortiz Cofer who, like Belpre, is a native of Puerto Rico. Cofer came to the United States at a young age and, like the characters in the stories that make up An Island Like You, grew up in Paterson, New Jersey. This collection of stories features Puerto Rican-American teens growing up teetering that all-too-familiar line between cultures. In addition to the cultural divide between the children and their parents, socio-economic and racial divisions, provide conflict throughout the stories. 

While twelve separate short stories, characters reappear throughout giving each distinct person an opportunity to share his or her voice. Each character is a study in adolescence with all its complexities and its ups and downs. The reviled bully of one story becomes the heartbreaking hero of another. The bad girl who draws little sympathy in one story mourns her father in another. Cofer created multidimensional characters that are more than just one thing or another. Weaving them throughout each other’s stories allows the reader to see them in different lights, to understand how they relate to one another, and to discover the sources of their pain and inner conflict, proving that there is often more than meets the eye. Cofer’s characters are diverse in personalities, interests, and appearances, breaking the stereotypes that often come with Latino, and in this case specifically Puerto Rican, characters in the media. You get the punk, the beauty, the ugly duckling, the brain, and more. Their cultural background makes them different in some ways, and yet, as teenagers they belong to a distinct culture of sorts that has nothing to do with differences in language or appearance. One of the most interesting features is the fact that many of the characters are not fluent in Spanish, perhaps one of the reasons why many of them struggle with conforming to the world in which their parents are trying to raise them, one in which they attempt to insert the culture, religion and ways of their own childhoods into a completely different time and place. One of my favorite passages that illustrates these clashing worlds is from “Home to El Building:”

Anita walks slowly past the familiar sights: shops, bodegas, and bars of the street where she’s lived all her life, feeling like she’s saying adios, and good riddance to it all. Her destination is the future. She is walking toward love. But first she has to get past her life that’s contained by this block. The barrio is like an alternate universe. That’s what they call it on Star Trek when the crew of the starship Enterprise find themselves in another world that may look like Earth, but where the natives have history turned around, and none of the usual rules apply. In these streets, on this block, people speak in Spanish, even though they’re in the middle of New Jersey; they eat fruits and vegetables that grow only in a tropical country; and they (Anita is thinking of her parents now) try to make their children behave like they were living in another century....

Having grown up in the alternate universe that was my Miami neighborhood, I know exactly what Anita is talking about, as will many other young reader growing up with similar experiences.

While there are no specific pop cultural references, some of the stories do have a somewhat dated tone. The story “White Balloons,” in which the neighborhood teens rally to help out a gay man who grew up on the barrio and returns, sick with AIDS, to fulfill a dream before he dies, feels like it comes from a very specific period in the past. I am not so deluded to think that uninformed and backward attitudes towards homosexuality and AIDS have changed drastically, but these have changed to some extent in the past couple of decades, which makes the story feel very early-to-mid-1990s. 

Not sure how often this book is assigned as high school or college reading. It was assigned in a recent class I took on books and other material for young adults. I have to wonder if this is a testament to its ability to stand the test of time or if there has been no other work of Latino-focused YA published since 1995 worthy of inclusion on the reading list of a YA literature course. Nevertheless, it is a classic of Latino youth literature. The struggle to find one's place will resonate with teens regardless of racial or cultural background.

Pura Belpre Reading Challenge

This summer I had the pleasure of attending the Pura Belpré Award ceremony during the ALA (American Library Association) conference in New Orleans. I had no idea how inspiring it would be to listen to the speeches given by the amazing writers and illustrators being honored for their positive portrayal of Latinos in youth literature.  

The medals. So pretty! I really should not be allowed so close to award medals.

Being the fifteenth year of the award, the posters given out featured Carmen Lomas Garza's Quinceañera. Each table also featured one of the award winning books as its centerpiece. This one shows Amy Novesky's Me, Frida whose illustrator, David Diaz, won an illustrator honor.

The programs featured the art work of Eric Velasquez, who won the illustrator medal for his book Grandma's Gift

Oralia Garza de Cortés and Sandra Rios Balderrama, the ladies who started it all, escorting the symbolic quinceañera.

Recently I was thinking that I should read all the Pura Belpré books. There are a lot of Newbery reading challenges online, where readers challenge themselves to read all the Newbery winners. Why not a Pura Belpré challenge? So the goal for the next year is to read as many of the Belpré medal and honor books in both categories awarded. Won’t you join me? 

I’ve thought about doing this in some kind of order--oldest to current or the reverse. It just so happens that I’ve read three of the books honored in 1996, the first year the award was given, so I’m starting with 1996. However, I don’t necessarily plan to stick to reading the books chronologically as I’m currently reading Pam Muñoz Ryan’s The Dreamer, the 2011 winner for narrative. 

Some interesting facts about the Belpré award that you may not already know: 

• The Pura Belpré medal is awarded to a Latino or Latina writer and illustrator “whose work best portrays, affirms, and celebrates the Latino cultural experience in an outstanding work of literature for children and youth.”

• The award is named for Pura Belpré (1899-1982), a Puerto Rican born author and storyteller who was the first Latina librarian at the New York Public Library. While at the NYPL she advocated for library services, including bilingual story time, to the growing Latino population in the city.

• Pura Belpré wrote a number of children’s books that drew from her own cultural background, retelling the folk tales of Perez and Martina and of Juan Bobo.

• The Pura Belpré Award is a joint award given by the Association for Library Service to Children (ALSC), a division of the American Library Association, and REFORMA, the National Association to Promote Library and Information Services to Latinos and the Spanish Speaking.

• The Award, which is given in the categories of narrative and illustration, was first given in 1996. It was awarded every two years until 2008 after which it became an annual award.   

There is a complete list of the Pura Belpré Award winners and honor books on the award's Webpage. If you're interested in reading more about Pura Belpré or the history of the award and its winners, check out these resources:

The Pura Belpré Awards: Celebrating Latino Authors and Illustrators. Edited by Rose Zertuche Treviño. Chicago: American Library Association, 2006.

The Storyteller's Candle / La Velita de los Cuentos. Written by Lucía González; Illustrated by Lulu Delacre. San Francisco: Children's Book Press, 2008.

Piri Thomas and Gary Soto

Piri Thomas, the Puerto Rican-Cuban-American poet and activist, passed away last week. He is best known in the YA world for Stories from El Barrio, his 1978 collection of short stories and poems about young people growing up in Harlem, one of the earliest YA books written by a U.S.-born Latino for and about Latino youth. In 1978, Thomas wrote an editorial for the New York Times in response to the case involving the 1976 removal of nine titles, including his autobiographical novel Down These Mean Streets, from the libraries of Long Island junior and senior high schools. In the essay, he addresses the role writing and libraries played in his life as a young person. I'm linking to the essay in honor of Piri, but also because it sounds a lot like Sherman Alexie's response earlier this year to a Wall Street Journal article about the "ever-more-appalling" YA lit. Thirty-some years later, different subject matter, same players.

Also, Cynthia Leitich Smith has added Jo Ellen Misakian's interview with Gary Soto on her blog. Soto, author of many children's and YA books, discusses his writing as well as the Gary Soto Museum at Fresno State University. It looks amazing!

P.S. There is at least one other cover for a more recent edition of Stories from El Barrio, but I love this one because it has that 70s / 80s YA paperback look that takes me back!

Malin Alegria on NPR

There is a great interview with YA author Malin Alegria on NPR. It's part of their "2 Languages, Many Voices: Latinos in the U.S." series. I'm looking forward to her Border Town series. The prospect of a Sweet Valley High with brown kids makes me giddy. Yes, it's true, I read practically all of the SVH books during my junior and high school years. So why can't I remember any Latino characters? I recall SVH having at least one African American character. Sweet Valley High takes place in California, doesn't it? There have to be a few Latinos. Right? Wikipedia (I know, I know!) shows two Latino names on the list of characters: Penny Ayala and Manuel Lopez. I forgot about Penny! Looks like I'll have to tackle that stack of SVH books sitting on my bookcase to find out how Penny and Manuel are portrayed. Not kidding about the stack of Sweet Valley High books.