How to Tell the Difference is a work in progress. We welcome additions
to these criteria. Please send them, along with full citations.
Look
at the Language Structure.
Does the book mock
language and culture?
“Fossilitos,
schmossilitos,” declared Poquito Tito, the smallest of the small ones. “We want
to see los dinosaurios with our own ojos,” he said, pointing to his eyes.
“¿Por
qué? asked Skippito.
“Because,
Bobocito,” said Don Diego, the biggest of the small ones, “We hear they are
reelly, reelly beeg, dude!”[1]
OR
Does the book promote respect for the language
and culture?
And
Tito replied, A
lo que Tito respondió
“No
way, José! I won’t let you come in— —¡Ni lo sueñes, José!
Not
by the hairs of my chinny-chin-chin.” —Por las barbas de mi abuela,
No
entrarás aunque te duela.[2]
Is the dialogue forced and clunky, with literal
Spanish phrases immediately followed by faulty English translations that are
clumsy and confusing to Spanish-speaking children?
Cristál,
Abuelita’s silver dog, rises on stiff legs to greet me. “Hola, perrita, mi
amigita [sic]. Hello, little dog, my dear friend. Como estás hoy día? How are
you today?”[3]
OR
Does the language flow naturally, both in
English and in Spanish?
When
I ask Papá to explain,
he
says if you don’t have blood
from
one tribe, you have it
from
another—El que no tiene
sangre del Congo
tiene del Carabalí.[4]
For bilingual or multilingual children, is
fluency in English presented as more important and valuable than fluency in
their own families’ language(s)?
“Say
something in English,” a woman asks me, and everyone is quiet, waiting. I don’t
know what to say. “It is good to be here,” I stammer at last. They laugh and
clap. “Imagine, Consuelo! Your son—and all your children—speaking English. So
smart!”[5]
OR
Is fluency in English presented realistically,
as a necessary tool?
Luckily,
I had some English when I got here. “It is good to have Eeenglish in your
pocket,” my parents pressed us always, “por
las cochinas dudas.” For the dirty doubts, that is. Just in case. So, for
the dirty doubts, we’ve all got a little English.[6]
Look
for Fakelore.
Is the story described as an “original” story
based on the folklore of a general region?
An
original story based on the folklore of Oaxaca, here is a book rich with the
customs and symbols of its culture.[7]
OR
Does the story (or stories) have deep roots in
the original stories of a particular people?
These
stories, despite their importance as moral teachings for Mayan children, are
also expressions of a millenarian tradition that has come from the deepest soul
of the Mayan people. Some of the stories in this volume are very old, and they
continue to be passed on while being reshaped to suit the current historical
situation.[8]
Look
at the Author’s Relationship to the Story.
Does it seem that the author is engaging in
“cultural tourism” in order to gather material for the “multicultural” market?
In 1990, I
went to Oaxaca (wa-HAH-ka), Mexico, where a friend introduced me to Leovigildo
Martínez. A jovial spirit and a magnificent painter, “Leo” introduced me to
Oaxacan markets and villages. As a fine artist, he had never illustrated
picture books but suggested we collaborate on Oaxacan tales for children. The
idea was to take threads of existing folklore, then create original stories to
be understood universally. The region's phenomenal array of indigenous
cultures—their pyramids, textiles, fiestas, and crafts—posed too delicious a
challenge to turn down. Although I had never written for children, I told Leo, “Me
gusta la idea.”[9]
OR
Does the author have the kind of deep
understanding of the story or stories that will result in an honest telling?
During
my childhood, whenever I wanted to listen to my mother telling Mayan stories, I
brought my small chair close to the kitchen fire where she cooked the
tortillas, pleading: “Mother, let’s tell stories again. Please tell me the
story of the injured little dove.” Then, my mother would laugh. This is the
first story that I remember her telling me, and she knew that I liked her stories
very much. So, while the firewood burned under the comal (a big circular clay pan) cooking delicious tortillas of
yellow corn, my mother would recall her memories, and then, with the
captivating voice of a storyteller, she would start her stories in our
Jakaltek-Maya language.[10]
Look
at the Author’s Background.
Does the author’s background seem devoid of the
qualities necessary to write about the culture?
Matthew
Gollub lives in Los Angeles, but has visited Oaxaca many times…. Mr. Gollub has
lived abroad and worked as a copyeditor, newscaster, cultural liaison, and
performing member of a Japanese drum troupe. [11]
OR
Does the author’s background seem inclusive of
the qualities necessary to write about the culture?
Nobel
Peace Prize winner and noted Maya activist Rigoberta Menchú Tum brings the
world of her childhood vividly alive in The
Girl from Chimel…. Menchú’s stories of her grandparents and parents, of the
natural world that surrounded her as a young girl, and her retelling of the
stories that she was told present a rich, humorous and engaging picture…[12]
Look
at Descriptions of Ceremony.
Is ceremony described in an inflammatory and
prurient way, absent any real information that could present an opportunity for
empathy?
The body was cut up: the skin
stuffed with cotton, went to decorate the façade of the palace where the
priests lived; the right thigh went to the emperor; the head was impaled on a
stake; the blood was smeared on the statues of the temple. The rest was eaten
by the family of the man who had captured the victim or was thrown to the wild
beasts kept in the palace….[T]he smell of decaying flesh and coagulated blood
was masked by copal incense.[13]
OR
Is ceremony described in a way that presents an
opportunity for empathy?
When
someone violates nature’s laws, when someone cuts down trees, stealing away the
oxygen, or removes the vegetation around lakes so that they dry up, when
someone cuts down the mountain brush so that the mountains crumble, then Rajaw
Juyub’, the keeper of things, appears.
[I]f
they apologize, if they ask for forgiveness and make an offering to the
Creator, then they will live a long time. Their hair will turn white and they
will become respected elders.
Sometimes
Rajaw Juyub’ appears as a dog or a coyote or another kind of animal. Sometimes
in the mountains we come across a creature roaming peacefully. It might be
Rajaw Juyub’, the one who judges the way people treat nature.
This
is why the grandmothers and grandfathers of the Maya lands bring him candles
and flowers, a lot of honey and other offerings.[14]
Look
at Descriptions of Belief Systems.
Are there
explanations of invented belief systems, described in New Age jargon?
See
how the spirals of the heart reach out, giving themselves one to the other? It
is by reaching out to one another that we, too, create something beautiful to
last throughout the ages. No matter where life leads you … if you follow the heart your path will be one of wonder.[15]
OR
Are belief systems described accurately and
respectfully?
When
the villagers had had enough to eat, they decided to honor the weasel…. The
villagers agreed to give her the best hens, roosters and turkeys they had. Some
brought her hens they had fattened with corn. Others brought roosters that had
grown plump from pecking the new food, and still others brought their
red-throated turkeys as an offering.
But
since there are always cheats, some villagers hid their best hens and roosters
and brought the weasel the smallest of chicks. The weasel noticed how miserly
these villagers were and decided to teach them a lesson, for you must always
give thanks for a gift.
That
evening, as everyone slept, the weasel went back to the village. She snuck into
the hen houses of the misers and stole all their fat hens, roosters and
turkeys.
This
is how the weasel taught us not to be miserly and to be grateful for what we
are given.[16]
Look
at Descriptions of the Culture.
Does the description embody the author’s
paternalistic superiority and colonialist arrogance?
One reason the people of Yucatán treat their ancestors
with such respect is that they have provided their grandchildren with an
important source of income. People come from all over the world to see the
wonderful stone structures the ancient Maya left behind. And when visitors
come, they spend money on food, hotels, and souvenirs.[17]
OR
Is the culture described from the perspective of
someone who lives it?
I am Rigoberta. Chimel is the
name of my village when it’s large, and Laj Chimel when it’s small, because
sometimes the village is large and sometimes it’s small. During good times,
when there’s honey and the corn is so heavy it bends its green stalks, when the
yellow, green, purple, white and multicolored orchids bloom, displaying their beauty,
then my village is big and it’s called Chimel. During bad times, when the river
dries up and ponds can fit into the hollow of my hand, when evil men walk the
earth and sadness can hardly be endured, the village becomes small and is
called Laj Chimel. Right now, I’m remembering Chimel…[18]
Look
at Contemporary Lives.
Do descriptions reflect outsiders’ value
judgments and socio-historical misstatements?
Like
most project tenants, Sonia’s family did not have a lot of money, but still she
knew they were more fortunate than her cousins and aunts and uncles back in
Puerto Rico, whom she visited every summer. Home in America, Sonia attended
good schools…[19]
OR
Do descriptions reflect how people see their own
communities?
In
Mayagüez, barefoot Sonia buys a cranberry piragua,
its
crushed ice pyramid topped with sweet syrupy tamarind.
At
Boquerón Beach, a sea wave gives Sonia a ride
on
its mundillo-lace skirt; returns her
to sun-bleached sand.
When
the sky starts to rust, porch voices tell family stories.
Sonia
plays jacks with her cousins.
Hundreds,
no, thousands of tree frogs sing, “Kokee-kokee!”
They
lull Sonia to sleep.
When
she returns to New York, she can’t sleep
without
the kokee-kokee-kokees.[20]
Are external measures of poverty described as reasons for poverty?
People
she’d grown up with were poor. And many of them weren’t as lucky as she had
been: They’d had trouble learning to speak English, trouble finding jobs.[21]
OR
Are external measures of poverty—such as
unemployment, language barriers, alcoholism—set in their appropriate contexts?
When
América gets home, she hears her dad yelling. He has been laid off from the
factory. The family gathers for supper around a wooden table in the small
kitchen. Her mother tells her father angrily: “I was called a ‘wetback’ at the
market today. No matter what we do—we don’t belong.” Tio Filemón comes into the
room, drunk and loud. “Never say you don’t belong,” he says. “We belong
anywhere, everywhere. Once you believe you don’t belong, you’ll be homeless
forever. Maybe we’ll go back to Oaxaca, maybe we won’t. For now, this is home.”[22]
Look
at the Lives of Agricultural Workers.
Are the lives of agricultural workers portrayed
as without much hardship, without much danger, without having to struggle for
equal rights? Are complex issues, such as racism, poverty, and horrible working
conditions, minimized?
When they needed food, César’s parents
shopped in the nearest town. Signs over some stores said White Trade Only.
César’s family was Mexican. They could not shop at those stores. César missed
Arizona. He wanted to ride a horse. He wanted to climb a tree.[23]
•••
Sometimes
the fields smelled of pesticides. The farmers sprayed pesticides to kill
insects that might eat the plants. Some of these pesticides made the workers
sick.[24]
OR
Are the lives of agricultural workers portrayed
realistically? Are complex issues, such as racism, poverty, and horrible
working conditions described honestly?
The
towns weren’t much better than the fields. WHITE TRADE ONLY signs were
displayed in many stores and restaurants. None of the thirty-five schools Cesar
attended over the years seemed like a safe place, either. Once, after Cesar
broke the rule about speaking English at all times, a teacher hung a sign on
him that read, I AM A CLOWN. I SPEAK SPANISH. He came to hate school…[25]
•••
[Cesar]
was small and not very strong, but still a fierce worker. Nearly every crop
caused torment. Yanking out beets broke the skin between his thumb and index
finger. Grapevines sprayed with bug-killing chemicals made his eyes sting and
his lungs wheeze. Lettuce had to be the worst. Thinning lettuce all day with a
short-handled hoe would make hot spasms shoot through his back.[26]
Look
at the Issue of Migration or Immigration.
Does the book ignore the issues of
documentation, stating or implying that citizenship is easily attainable for
all migrants or immigrants?
Before
becoming citizens, newcomers to this country must qualify to live here as
permanent residents…. After five years, or three if married to a U.S. citizen,
law-abiding permanent residents over eighteen can apply for citizenship for
themselves and their children under eighteen…. The new citizens can vote, serve
on juries, compete for all government jobs, travel freely outside the United
States, and sponsor parents and brothers and sisters who wish to come live in
the United States![27]
OR
Does the book show the pain and confusion of
children whose families do not have documentation?
Yesterday
as she passed Miss Gable and Miss Williams in the hallway, she heard Miss Gable
whisper, “She’s an illegal.” How can that be—how can anyone be illegal! She is
Mixteco, an ancient tribe that was here before the Spanish, before the
blue-eyed, even before this government that now calls her “illegal.” How can a
girl called América not belong in America?[28]
[1]
Schachner, Judy, Skippyjon Jones and the
Big Bones. Dutton Children’s Books, 2007.
[2]
Salinas, Bobbi, The Three Pigs: Nacho,
Tito and Miguel/ Los tres credos. Piñata Publications, 1998.
[3]
Córdova, Amy, Abuelita’s Heart. Simon
& Schuster, 1997.
[4]
Engle, Margarita, The Wild Book.
Harcourt, 2012.
[5]
Bunting, Eve, Going Home. Harper,
1996.
[6]
Johnston, Tony, Any Small Goodness: A
Novel of the Barrio. Scholastic, 2001.
[7]
Gollub, Matthew, The Twenty-Five Mixtec
Cats. Tambourine Books (William Morrow), 1993.
[8]
Montejo, Victor, The Bird Who Cleans the
World and other Mayan Fables. Curbstone Press, 1991.
[9]
Gollub, Matthew, www.matthewgollub.com/bio.html.
[10]
Montejo, Victor, The Bird Who Cleans the
World and other Mayan Fables. Curbstone Press, 1991.
[11]
Gollub, Matthew, The Twenty-Five Mixtec
Cats. Tambourine Books (William Morrow), 1993.
[13]
Helly, Mathilde, and Rémi Courgeon, Montezuma
and the Aztecs. Holt, 1996.
[15]
Córdova, Amy, Abuelita’s Heart. Simon
& Schuster, 1997.
[17]
Staub, Frank, Children of Yucatán.
CarolRhoda Books, 1996.
[19]
Winter, Jonah, Sonia Sotomayor: a judge
grows in the Bronx/ la juez que creció en el Bronx. Atheneum, 2009.
[20]
Bernier-Grand, Carmen T., Sonia
Sotomayor: Supreme Court Justice. Marshall Cavendish, 2010.
[21]
Winter, Jonah, Sonia Sotomayor: a judge
grows in the Bronx/ la juez que creció en el Bronx. Atheneum, 2009.
[22]
Rodríguez, Luis J., América Is Her Name.
Curbstone Press, 1997.
[23]
Wadsworth, Ginger, César Chávez.
Lerner/ First Avenue Editions, 2004.
[24]
Wadsworth, Ginger, ibid.
[25]
Krull, Kathleen, Harvesting Hope: The
Story of Cesar Chavez. Harcourt, 2003.
[26]
Krull, Kathleen, ibid.
[27]
Herald, Maggie Rugg, A Very Important Day.
Morrow, 1995.
[28]
Rodríguez, Luis J., América Is Her Name.
Curbstone Press, 1997.
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