Bless Me, Ultima

I had so much to write about Rudolfo Anaya's Bless Me, Ultima. Really! Just take a look at my copy that is not only long overdue (eep!) but is covered in those little sticky tabs and dog-eared where I didn't have sticky tabs handy. Unfortunately, it's taken me some time to get around to writing this entry so a lot of what I wanted to say has slipped my mind. That happens to me sometimes. I'd never read this classic of Chicano literature but the fact that we are both celebrating the same birthday this year (does that make me a classic too?) and its place on the lengthy list of books that were part of the now defunct Mexican American Studies curriculum in Arizona prompted me to pick up finally pick up a copy. It did not disappoint. And again, I was left wondering why none of my honor and AP English teachers ever introduced me to this book.

Bless Me, Ultima is the coming-of-age story of Antonio Marez, a young New Mexican boy. The story is set at the end of World War II and spans about three years of the child's life beginning with the arrival of Ultima, the well-known curandera and family friend who movies in with Antonio's family. While the story is primarily Antonio's, the boy's coming-of-age is also symbolic of, in a sense, the transitions his own family and surroundings are going through. Ultima's arrival poses the potential for upheaval in the family structure, but in reality, she serves as the anchor and the last link to a past--a culture and a way of life--that is quickly changing.

The story is told from Antonio's point of view, a child between the ages of about seven to about ten, and yet the it feels like it could be a teenager or even an adult. His struggles and fears have the potential to resonate with all because they are so typically human, those enduring issues that make up life no matter what your age--faith, good versus evil, change. Antonio reminds me of what it was like to be a child so full of questions and wonder and fear. We witness the experience of being a Mexican American child, not able to speak English, in a classroom of White children.

"At noon we opened our lunches to eat. Miss Maestas left the room and a high school girl came and sat at the desk while we ate. My mother had packed a small jar of hot beans and some good, green chile wrapped in tortillas. When the other children saw my lunch they laughed and pointed again. Even the high school girl laughed. They showed me their sandwiches which were made of bread. Again I did not feel well."

And at the end of his first school day:

"The pain and sadness seemed to spread to my soul, and I felt for the first time what the grown-ups call, la tristesa de la vida. I wanted to run away, to hid, to run and never come back, never see anyone again."

But along with this sadness we also see the comfort of family and community:

"We always enjoyed our stay at El Puerto. It was a world where people were happy, working, helping each other. The ripeness of the harvest piled around the mud houses and lent life and color to the songs of the women. Green chile was roasted and dried, and red chile was tied into colorful ristras. Apples piled high, some lent their aroma to the air from where they dried in th sun on the lean-to roofs and others as they bubbled into jellies and jams. At night we sat around the fireplace and ate baked apples spiced with sugar and cinnamon and listened to the cuentos, the old stories of the people."

Bless Me, Ultima was National Endowment for the Arts Big Read selection, an honor that recognizes its deserved place in American literature. Despite being focusing on a very specific community, it tells the story of the kinds of changes people throughout the country were experiencing--the effects of war on family, the loss of old ways to new ways. Here we see these changes from the eyes of a child who is also dealing with growing up. I think about this book in the context of its subject matter and the time in which it was published, and I feel grateful that it has endured.

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!

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.

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.

Leo Politi

Pedro, the Angel of Olvera Street (Leo Politi, 1946) Politi, a resident of Los Angeles, paid tribute to the city's ethnic neighborhoods in many of his books for children. In this 1947 Caldecott Honor book, the reader sees Los Angeles through the eyes of young Pedro and his grandfather, the older man remarking on the changes he's witnessed as the area transitions from small town to big city. In both his words and images, Politi conveys his deep appreciation for Mexican and Mexican-American culture. A large colorful market scene depicts the flavors, colors, traditions and folk arts of Mexico.The first few pages are a sort of tour of Olvera Street. Pedro shows readers the puestos, the little shops, the food, the artisans (in a double page color illustration of a blacksmith, a sandal maker, a glass blower, a candle maker, a pot maker and a silversmith) and the treats that line Olvera Street.

In Pedro, Politi introduces readers to the holiday Posada tradition that begins with a procession of "pilgrims"--including Mary and Joseph looking for a place to stay--and ends with children breaking a pinata. Because Pedro is known to have a lovely voice, he is selected to be an angel that will lead the Posada. As with some of Politi's other books the parental figure is a grandparent, in this case Pedro's grandfather.

What is especially interesting is that all the residents of Olvera Street are dressed in what appears to be more traditional (and kind of stereotypical) Mexican clothes--sombreros, huaraches, long skirts and shawls or sarapes. Is that really what Mexicans and Mexican-Americans looked like in Los Angeles in the 1940s? Or perhaps it's Politi's way of emphasizing the cultural roots of this community? I've searched for photos of Mexicans / Mexican Americans in the Library of Congress' American Memory site and a number come up that were taken during the Great Depression (including a few by Dorothea Lange), none which show Mexican Americans dressed any differently than, I'm guessing, the average White or African-American person of that period. Which is interesting to me because I've been thinking a lot about how much Latino children's books (books that feature Latinos) are very limited to being specifically about some aspect of a cultural group or the Spanish language. It's very rare to see a brown face in a book for children where that character isn't representative of something Latino. And while I think it's great that there are more and more books for children featuring Latino characters, I'm still bothered by the absence of books in which a brown child is doing things a child of any race in the U.S. would do, s/he just happens to be brown. You know, no blatant sign following the child announcing I'm BROWN! It seems like this approach to writing about brown children hasn't changed in sixty-some years, and it makes me ask the question: is that the only way books with little brown faces see the light of day?

1941

1939