You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train

I don't know if that's the best title for this entry, but I like it. Howard Zinn said you can't be neutral on a moving train. I'm thinking about neutrality and award committees. I'll take credit for the Caldecott pun that exists in there somewhere (you know, train, Locomotive). Anyway, this past week the Horn Book Magazine posted a short online article about the Caldecott results, speculating as to why a particular book was not honored at all and inviting others to post their theories in the comments section. The people went off! The people are up in arms about Mr. Tiger's Caldecott snub. Well, I want to vent my outrage too.

The Caldecott and the Newbery each honored four books. One medalist and three honors per award. Not one of those eight books is by or about a person of color. If I'm wrong (and I've been known to be wrong), please call me out. I'm going to drag the Printz Award in here too. I'm doing this for several reasons: (1) Two of this year's Pura Belpré Award honors went to books that fall in that fuzzy age overlap area shared by ALSC and YALSA. (2) The Printz, like the Newbery and Caldecott, also gave four honors. Not one to an author of color or to a book about a protagonist of color. (3) The people (librarians) love them some Printz (just like they love them some Newbery and Caldecott).

Twelve books. None by or about people of color (sidenote: what other term can I use for us besides "poc"? Anyone?) I’m not saying there’s a deliberate conspiracy going on. I mean, obviously there isn't. Books by and about Latinos, African-Americans, Asian-Americans, American Indians and anyone else who is not white (or a zombie / dragon / paranormal hybrid of some sort) are so far off the radar of most librarians and publishers and booksellers and educators they don't even warrant conspiring against. 

What goes on in these award committee meetings is top secret. None of us will ever know what went on in the decision-making process so it's easy to speculate. Why aren't artists and writers of color recognized by the Newbery, the Caldecott or the Printz? It's the age-old question. Every year we knock our heads against the wall and bemoan this injustice only to be poo-pooed or to be pretty much ignored. Only two African-Americans (Leo Dillon and Jerry Pinkney) and one Latino (David Diaz) have ever won a Caldecott honor (all three won the medal) in its seventy-six year history. Of these three, only the work of Leo (and his wife, Diane) Dillon had a specific cultural focus. Only one Latina (Margarita Engle) has ever been honored with a Newbery (an honor for The Surrender Tree) in ninety-two years! African-American authors have been recognized about thirteen times, but this number includes both honors and medalists (three) and about half of that number went to works by two authors (Virginia Hamilton and Christopher Paul Curtis). The Printz doesn't have as long a history but is moving in a similar direction.

What does this say? This says to everyone that in the history of these awards that honor the most distinguished in books for children and young adults, only a handful of us have been worthy. When I think about all the amazing Latino illustrators and authors whose books I've read, this just makes me sad. And angry! For neither Niño Wrestles the World nor Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass to have gotten some mention by one of these three awards just seems wrong. I wonder if the Coretta Scott King folks feel as put upon.

It's a lot of pressure on the committee members who take on the responsibility of determining which books are most distinguished. But let's not kid ourselves about a neutrality that exists in this decision-making process. The members of these committees are all humans formed of biases, interests, dislikes, areas of expertise, life experiences. We drag these things around with us in everything we do. To think that we can put on glasses that make us view things in a totally neutral manner is unrealistic. The continued lack of diversity in the selections made by these committees isn't something we can or should ignore. It matters that we talk about it. It matters that white librarians, publishers, booksellers and educators know that we expect more from them.

The Caldecott, Newbery and Printz probably get the most media play of any of the youth media awards. They, along with the Margaret A. Edwards Award, were the only three mentioned in the New York Time's coverage. If you are sitting in the convention center the morning of the youth media award announcements you can hear it. The power and popularity of these three awards among the librarians that fill the room is palpable. These awards mean something to a lot of people. Yes, they're just awards, and no, they aren't just awards. 

The question often comes up in these discussions about diversity and awards about the function of awards like the Belpré and the CSK. Some would even suggest that their existence is what keeps books by and about these groups maginalized. The existence of these awards should certainly not make books that fit their criteria left out of consideration for the Newbery or the Caldecott, of course. They serve a different function--to continue to recognize and celebrate our cultures. The fact that they do it when no one else will is a bonus. Or maybe it's the other way around? It would be great if we could do an experiment where these awards aren't given for X number of years, and then see if during that period we see a difference in the number of books by or about people of color that are recognized. I have a sneaking suspicion we wouldn't.

I wonder if one of the issues is that librarians, booksellers and publishers (okay, white librarians, booksellers and publishers) can't get past the cultural element in books about Latinos (or any other non-white group) in order to find the universal message. Is it that they view the only audience for these books as being Latinos? Do they have a difficult time conceiving of a readership for these books that wouldn't see them as just books about Latinos? Does this readership not exist because these books are marketed (by bookstores and in libraries) as books about Latinos, only to be featured during Hispanic Heritage Month? Which came first? The chicken or the egg?

Head over to the Cooperative Children's Book Center listserv where there's a great conversation about multicultural literature going on this month. Also, check out Meg Medina's blog where the Pura Belpré Award winner wrote about this topic as well.

El Dia de los Muertos / The Day of the Dead

It’s probably safe to say that el Dia de los Muertos, or the Day of the Dead, has reached a point of recognition in American society that it did not have even a decade ago. So much so that the candy company Russell Stover now makes Day of the Dead themed candy with bilingual wrappers. This is the first year I see these, and thanks to the packaging I learned the Spanish word for marshmallow. Mmm, malvavisco. Sounds, um, yummy. 

The Day of the Dead is sometimes explained as a sort of Mexican or Latin American version of Halloween, but it really is not. El Dia de los Muertos, which actually spans two days from November 1 to November 2 (or three, starting October 31, depending on who you ask), is a time when people remember their loved ones who have passed away. It is believed that on those days the souls of the dead return to visit. We honor them and welcome them back by creating ofrendas, altars on which offerings of their favorite foods, photos, belongings and other items are set out for their return. In Mexico and other countries that commemorate this time, it is customary to also visit and clean the graves of loved ones. I asked my mother what her family did when she was a girl in Mexico and she said they would visit her brother's grave, clean it, bring flowers and wreaths and pray, but that they did not create a home altar. Some people also played music in the cemetary. The Day of the Dead is also a time when death is recognized, and even celebrated, as a natural part of the cycle of life, a reminder that the dead are always still with us, and that death is not something to be feared.

There are a number of books for children about the Day of the Dead. A search for books to read to my own son turned into a research project of sorts as I began to look at the books I found under a more careful lens. I found that many of the books about the Day of the Dead include the following:

• a child who has lost a grandparent and is preparing to welcome him or her back during the Day of the Dead
• conflict in which either the child is uncertain of how the deceased loved one will find him or her or is trying to figure out what to contribute to the ofrenda
• ends with the child receiving or believing to have received a sign of the deceased loved one’s visit
• usually takes place in an unnamed location, but we can assume that it is a small, rural area outside of the United States based on the appearance of the surroundings and the outfits worn by the main and background characters
• feature key characteristics of the Day of the Dead including skeletons or skulls, pan de muertos, the ofrenda, marigolds, and a cemetary
• illustrations in which the children (and their families) are depicted as rural or peasants, are wearing somewhat dated and more culturally traditional clothing, or wear what appear to be Catholic school-type uniforms

A couple of other common threads I noticed among a few of the books:

• the reader, via the young protagonist, is reassured that the skeletons are nothing to be afraid of and should be mocked or poked fun at
• references to the Day of the Dead as the equivalent of Halloween 

Another common issue I found with these books is the subject classification assigned. Admittedly, I can be a little obsessive about Library of Congress subject headings. I discovered that there is no subject heading for the Day of the Dead. Perhaps this isn’t a huge deal in terms of being able to find books since online catalogs allow users to search by keyword. However, I have issues with what could be an inaccurate description of books about the Day of the Dead. The subject heading assigned to books about the holiday is All Souls’ Day. Not being an expert in religious holidays and observances, I dug a little to find out exactly what All Souls’ Day is about. I discovered that while All Souls’ Day is observed on November 2 it has a somewhat darker connotation than what we’ve come to know of the Day of the Dead. All Souls’ Day is affiliated with souls in purgatory who aren’t yet ready for their final destinations (whether they are heading upstairs or not). The idea of souls in limbo doesn’t exactly connect, in my mind, with the celebration of the Day of the Dead, a time in which the spirits of deceased loved ones are remembered and welcomed back for a brief period of time. Perhaps something has been lost in the cross-culture translation of the Day of the Dead. 

I deliberated about outlining why I would not recommend specific titles, and then considered only listing the books I would recommend. Since I did not read all the children’s books on the subject that are available at my library (and lest you think I did), I decided to compile a list of the books I looked at and highlight the ones I recommend. The titles highlighted (with two asterisks next to them) would be recommended to anyone wanting to introduce a child to the Day of the Dead or, more generally, to the ideas the underlie the celebration: that our loved ones are always with us, even when they are gone, and that death is a part of the life cycle that should not be feared.

• **Ancona, George. Pablo Remembers: The Fiesta of the Day of the Dead (Pura Belpre Honor Book for Illustration, 1996)
• Freschet, Gina. Beto and the Bone Dance (2001)
• **Johnston, Tony. Day of the Dead
• Joosse, Barbara M. Ghost Wings
• Krull, Kathleen. Maria Molina and the Days of the Dead
• Levy, Janice. I Remember Abuelito: A Day of the Dead Story
• Levy, Janice. The Spirit of Tio Fernando: A Day of the Dead Story
• **Morales, Yuyi. Just A Minute: A Trickster Tale and Counting Book (Pura Belpre Medal for Illustration, 2004) 
• **Morales, Yuyi. Just In Case: A Trickster Tale and Spanish Alphabet Book (Pura Belpre Medal for Illustration, 2009; Pura Belpre Honor Book for Narrative, 2009)

Yuyi Morales’ Just in Case and Just A Minute are not about el Dia de los Muertos per se, but both make the connection between the living and the dead through the character of Señor Calavera who in one book comes for Grandma Beetle and in the other brings the deceased Grandpa Zelmiro to celebrate a birthday with the living.

I should also mention that I found one Spanish language book at my library. El Dia de Muertos by Ivar Da Coll was published by Lectorum, a Spanish language book distributor based in New Jersey. In El Dia de Muertos, two young siblings await the arrival of their grandmother who, for once, is alive! The grandmother tells them humorous stories and passes on the traditions of the Day of the Dead celebration. The book is written in rhyme which makes it fun to read. Unfortunately, the four books I highlighted as recommended above are not bilingual in that they do not offer parallel English and Spanish text. They do integrate Spanish words into the English narrative with either a glossary or in-text translation as explanation of Spanish words and concepts.

If you wish for specifics on why certain titles were not recommended send me a message, and I’d be happy to let you know. I don’t think any of the book I didn’t choose include any especially egregious errors or misrepresentations (although, of course, what is egregious is subjective). The biggest issue I had with any one of the books is the way in which one in particular depicts immigration and compares life in, I’m assuming, Mexico and life in the United States.

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!