Cinco
Puntos Press, 2004
high school-up
Mexican American
The Hollywood of Sáenz’s first novel
for young adult readers is a ragged barrio of Las Cruces, New
Mexico, where Sammy Santos and his friends live in the year 1969. Toward the
end of his junior year of high school Sammy begins to notice classmate Juliana
Ríos, whose self-confidence in the face of racist teachers inspires Sammy.
Juliana, however, hides a desperate home situation that results over the summer
in her violent death.
Afterward, Sammy wonders if he will
ever love another girl again. His mother died years earlier, and over the next
year, Sammy endures more losses—a neighbor’s husband, a best friend drafted and
then killed in Vietnam, another friend dead of a heroin overdose, two gay classmates
brutally beaten and then driven out of town by bigoted whites. Along with the
troubles, however, comes Sammy’s political awakening, when he and his friends
campaign for a change in student government, organize a strike against strict
dress codes, and pass out armbands against the war. These struggles give Sammy
and his friends a sense of hope and purpose and bring him closer to his father
as well.
Sáenz is an acclaimed poet, and his
story sings in the language of young people who move effortlessly between
English and Spanish and use both languages to understand their world. The
emotions expressed are honest and powerful—true to the characters’ culture and
time period, yet so deeply felt that teenagers of all backgrounds today can
identify themselves and their friends in the unforgettable cast. There are many
priceless moments when the teens stand up to authority figures, showing that
resistance is possible and hope exists in the bleakest of circumstances. One of
the most memorable is when Sammy, five weeks from graduation, stands up to a
dictatorial school administrator, Colonel Wright, who tries to shut down the
student protest against the war on Vietnam:
He grabbed my arm. I
hated the warmth of his hand. “Pifas is dead,” I said. And he let go of me. He
knew who I was talking about. He’d read it in the newspaper, he’d seen a
picture of Pifas’ mother kissing his coffin, clutching a flag—clutching a flag
instead of clutching a son. God. “Epifánio Jose Espinosa was killed in action.
In Viet Nam. Epifánio. They brought him home. Not all of him, Colonel. They
couldn’t find his hands. Blown clean off. His hands, Colonel, they stayed in
Nam. His hands stayed there, Colonel. Say it. Goddammit! Say his name for me.”
He grabbed my arm again and started dragging me toward the office. But I wasn’t
going to let him. I pulled away from him. I was stronger. He knew I was
stronger. “Epifánio,” I said. “His name meant epiphany. It’s what happens at
the end of a story or poem when something is revealed. It means we’ve learned
something.”
As I reread sections to
finish up this review, I am in tears. Sammy
& Juliana in Hollywood is that strong, that good. Highly recommended.
—Lyn Miller-Lachmann
(published 3/26/14)
(published 3/26/14)
I want to echo the strong recommendation for this novel. It's one of my all-time favorites, a reading experience to be savored. Absolutely genius.
ReplyDeleteWhen I first read this book, I would read aloud the passages to my sister. It drove her crazy. Until she had to read it for herself.
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