My Very Own Room / Mi propio cuartito

author: Amada Irma Pérez

translator: Consuelo Hernández

illustrator: Maya Christina González

Children’s Book Press / Lee & Low, 2000

grades 2-up 

Mexican, Mexican American

When we were kids, we slept four in a bed; the girls slept in one bed and the boys in another. Living with ten people piled into a small house was just our reality. For me, there was no place to be by myself, to read, to do my homework; it was a common occurrence to see my homework stuck to the table or with milk spilled on it, and there was no such thing as quiet in our house.

For a large traditional Mexican family such as ours, it was a matter of both culture and economics: family and friends came and went, and people either shared space with relatives or lived in made-over garages. There wasn’t much room, so children usually slept together in one or two beds and sometimes on the couch or on the floor.

My Very Own Room reminded me of my impossible wish. The narrator is a nine-year-old girl who shares a room with five brothers and imagines her own space “with my own bed, table, and lamp—a place where I could read the books I loved, write in my diary, and dream.” How she transforms a storage closet into a perfect, private space shows, not only her own determination and resourcefulness, but how her family joyfully pitches in and helps out. Here’s a bed from Tío Pancho, who is returning to Mexico. Here’s a white ceramic glass lamp from the Blue Chip store, for redeemed Blue Chip stamps. Here are several paint cans, each with a little paint in it that when blended, makes a gorgeous magenta color for her walls. And here are lots and lots of books, borrowed from the library.

González’s art, in oil pastel on a rich palette of bold, warm colors, complement the story. I especially like the image of the whole family licking Blue Chip stamps, the swirls of the paint colors coming together, and finally, “the luckiest, happiest little girl in the whole world,” falling asleep under a blanket of books in her very own room.

Hernández’s idiomatic Spanish translation reads as well as the English, so both hablantes and English-speakers can enjoy this warm story of a little girl who is part of a loving family and finds a way to acquire her own space. Based on the author’s own family story, My Very Own Room / Mi propio cuartito is highly recommended.

—María Cárdenas
(published 3/27/14)

My Diary from Here to There/ Mi diario de aquí hasta allá

author: Amada Irma Pérez

translator: Consuelo Hernández

illustrator: Maya Christina González

Children’s Book Press, 2002

kindergarten-grade 4

Mexican, Mexican American

My Diary from Here to There/ Mi diario de aquí hasta allá is the semi-autobiographical journal of a young girl who migrates with her family to the US from Mexico. Her father is a US citizen, but the family must wait in Mexicali, near the border, while he leaves for Los Angeles to look for work and secure their green cards. It is a difficult process for Amada—she leaves behind a dear friend in Mexico, and is afraid of losing herself and her connection to the place where she was born:

Mamá and Papá keep talking about all the opportunities we’ll have in California. But what if we’re not allowed to speak Spanish? What if I can’t learn English? Will I ever see Michi again? What if we never come back?

While she is waiting, young Amada also expresses sadness at how she cannot see her father (who is now working in the fields of Delano) and fears that he will not be able to obtain green cards for the rest of the family. Yet they wait patiently, the green cards finally arrive, and the family is able to cross the border and be reunited. The book ends on a triumphant note:

You know, just because I’m far away from Juárez and Michi and my family in Mexicali, it doesn’t mean they’re not here with me. They’re inside my little rock; they’re here in your pages and in the language that I speak, and they’re in my memories and in my heart.

González’ vibrant, jewel-toned acrylics—full of blues and greens and yellows, with red and purple highlights—are as bright and hopeful as the story itself. The illustrations are playful at times, especially in portraying Amada’s mischievous younger brothers. There is also a great deal of symbolic depth in the artwork. Butterflies flit across almost every page: some on Amada’s dress, some on her blanket, some in the skies, some on her diary. They seem to represent Amada and to connect her to her friend, Michi, and to Mexico. In some places, Amada, her parents, and her brothers all seem to have the same faces, but that’s because they’re family. The illustrations are stylized and portray a sort of magical realism as we see the world through Amada’s eyes. Father’s arm, for instance, stretches all the way around Amada, her mother, and her brothers; to Amada, his embrace signifies the warmth and connection of a large, loving family.

Consuelo Hernández’ Spanish translation is fluid and natural sounding. Interestingly, the translator is actually Amada Irma Perez’ mother—a detail you would never know without reading the fine print on the last page. I question the publisher’s decision not to credit her excellent translation on the book cover.

My Diary from Here to There is a heartfelt story that’s real and deeply connected to the author. It portrays a meaningful female friendship, something that is not all that common in picture books. Most importantly, the central theme is that you can move from place to place without losing your connection to yourself, your family, your culture, or your language. Amada’s pride at being Mexican and her desire to maintain her Spanish language create an important example for young readers.

Unfortunately, although My Diary broaches a lot of important issues, it doesn’t invest any energy in exploring them. At the beginning, we learn that Michi’s sisters and father work in the US and that she envies the fact that Amada’s family will stay together. Family separation is a huge theme in the lives of many children, yet this issue is not explored.

While Amada is waiting for her father to get the green cards for the rest of the family, he writes to her about the conditions under which farm workers labor and even mentions César Chávez. Yet again, these issues are just left hanging. Finally, on the bus into the US, the police detain a woman without papers—and her children. This incident is mentioned but not discussed, leaving young readers to question why only some immigrants have easy access to documents.

Ultimately, My Diary from Here to There/ Mi diario de aquí hasta allá could be a great jumping-off point for discussion when used by adults who are willing and able to address some of the issues that are avoided here. Recommended.

—Grace Cornell Gonzales
(published 6/14/13)