Wounded Falcons

 

author: Jairo Buitrago

translator (from Spanish): Elisa Amado

illustrator: Rafael Yockteng

Groundwood Books, 2021 

grades 3-up

“It was a bad day at school.” Young Adrián’s face is bloody and bruised, his shirt is torn, and his fists are clenched with rage. It’s always a bad day at school. Adrián gets into trouble with everyone—except his friend, Santiago, who never has any problems and never has any bad days. Yet the two are friends.

Before going home, the two friends sit in the middle of a garbage-strewn empty lot “that doesn’t belong to anyone, where no one ever comes.” In a clump of grass, Adrián finds a young, wounded falcon, scared and unable to fly. The boy wraps the bird in his jacket to keep her warm, and promises to take care of her.

At home, Adrián looks to his mother for advice about curing the bird’s broken wing—but receives instead a mean-spirited promise: We already know what happened at school…Later, your father will give you what you deserve. The next day, Adrián skips school and meets up with Santiago in the empty lot “where no one ever comes.” Santiago takes him and the falcon to someone who “cures broken bones”—and pays for the treatment with his Christmas money. Together, the two friends gently care for the wounded falcon. And in science class, “even though the others laugh and whisper,” Adrián speaks for the first time, giving a talk “about birds of prey, about their strength, about their beauty.”

Adrián encloses the falcon and her nest in a box he has built and sets it in a tree. When he is sad, he visits with the falcon: “They know each other, they can feel their hearts beating when they are together.” 

Weeks later, there is a storm—and the two friends discover that “the falcon has gone with the squalls of rain and the wind.” The next day, they go back to the lot “that belongs to no one, where no one comes.” They look up and see a falcon—like a bolt of lightning—dive from the sky, grab a pigeon in flight—and scream to salute them. Santiago sees tears on his friend’s cheeks: “his friend who never cries, not even when they were both little children.” As the two friends silently go home,

Santiago thinks that Adrián has a big heart, even if he gets into trouble. Tomorrow when they leave school to go to the empty lot that belongs to no one, where no one comes, maybe they can see the falcon hunting again, and they will be closer than ever.

Young readers will intuit that the title—Wounded Falcons—refers to both the bird of prey and the bullied child. For the falcon and Adrián—both wounded and now healing—it will be a good day.

Buitrago’s sparse descriptions and economy of words—together with Yockteng’s digitally-created illustrations that resemble pen-and-ink drawings—lay out the scenarios and encourage young readers to draw their own interpretations and conclusions. The final illustration will surprise them. 

•Wounded Falcons is highly recommended for home, school and library collections.

—Beverly Slapin

(published 9/18/2021)

What the Aztecs Told Me

authors: Claudia Burr, Krystnya Libura, and Maria Urrutia

Groundwood Books, 1997

grades 3-5  

Mexica (Aztec)

It seems that more and more American writers seek out the parts of other people’s cultures that they see as exotic or exciting. Maybe it is because they feel that their own lives in this “western” society are dull and monotonous. Unfortunately, this tendency has clouded the minds of those who write and teach from outside the culture. What the Aztecs Told Me is no exception. It tells about the Mexica or Aztec culture before the invasion of what we now call Mexico through the eyes of the Spanish friar, Bernardino de Sahagún.

As with so many other books on the “Aztecs,” this one seems fixated on the subject of human sacrifices. In fact, the first six pages of this 30-page book are about sacrifices—as if to say that this was the most important aspect of Mexica life. Accompanying Sahagún’s account are drawings by Spanish missionaries to justify the often brutal methods they used to force thousands of Mexica to convert from their “pagan” way of life to the “light” of medieval Christianity. As biased as all this material is, the authors never question Sahagún’s work.

Once we wade through what seems like overkill for any fifth-grade student, we are finally treated to scant descriptions of the day-to-day life of the Mexica. I wonder if the authors or the members of the Canada Council and Ontario Arts Council—the funders of this book—see the irony in their own words:

[T]he culture and events that Friar Bernardino recorded had almost disappeared by the time he wrote his work. Only a few elders remained who could remember Mexico before the Spaniards arrived. It is thanks to them that we can glimpse this vanished world.

Maybe, if Sahagún, Cortez, and their cohorts had not been so successful in “civilizing” the Native peoples of Mexico, we would have more such elders to learn from. Still, there are many elders throughout Mexico whose oral traditions dispute the Spanish accounts. If the authors had really wanted to show their respect for the Mexica, they would have sought out some of our elders, rather than retelling the invader’s accounts one more time. Not recommended.

—Marco Palma
(published 4/15/13)

This review first appeared in A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children, edited by Doris Seale and Beverly Slapin (AltaMira Press, 2005). We thank the publisher for permission.

Discovering the Inca Ice Maiden: My Adventures on Ampato // A Gift for Ampato

author: Johan Reinhard

National Geographic, 1998

grades 4-6 

Inca

Incredibly detailed, close-up photos of a frozen Incan mummy, a 14-year-old who lived about 500 years ago, send shivers up my spine. I don't think I'll sleep well tonight, picturing the little frozen girl clutching her dress tightly to her body. Why was she buried on the rim of a volcano? Was it human sacrifice, as the author states and describes in great detail? Or was it something else? I feel like he's taking me on an invasive tour of this young woman's death, relishing the blood-curdling “sacrifice” aspect of the whole tour de ice force.

Young readers will love Discovering the Inca Ice Maiden; it is easy to read, almost as if the author were telling a tale to a fourth- or fifth-grader, and the gruesome pictures will totally capture their interest. Strange that violence, mutilation, and human sacrifice are what make our children want to read. And it is this kind of information that the education system mandates in their social studies frameworks.

Reinhard takes us step by step on this “discovery” (I think “encountering” is a better word). It reminds me of Donald Johanson's writing about “Lucy,” the “Australopithecus Afarensis” woman he encountered in Hadar, Ethiopa. He stumbled on Lucy’s remains in much the same way Reinhard stumbled on the “Ice Maiden” by being in the right place at the right time, or as Johanson says, “I guess I'm just lucky. Luck plays a big part in this business.”

I found myself studying the many maps and photographs with a magnifying glass to sift through the grains of pumice, the volcanic ash, and the ice floes to see if I could uncover anything myself—the photographs from the National Geographic team are that clear and compelling.

Several years ago in Tampa, Florida, I toured an exhibit that had been confiscated as part of a smuggling plan gone awry. It was being displayed for a short time before being sent back to Cuzco. All of this is to say: What is the right way to handle cultural invasion? Ask a “leading authority” about human sacrifice in ancient Inca civilization? Send the mummy to Johns Hopkins for x-ray techno-games-analysis? Hurry back to the site to make sure no other “robber” gets the prize before “you” can cart it down the mountainside? You know, ethical things like that. Still, the story is compelling and I couldn't put it down. But I am pretty sure I'm going to have nightmares involving feathers and gold and silver statues—all very, very cold. Recommended with caveats.

  

author: Susan Vande Griek, Susan 

illustrator: Mary Jane Gerber

Groundwood Books, 1999

grades 5-8 

Inca

It was only a matter of time—one year, to be exact—before Reinhard’s finding found its way into a young adult novel. It happened in A Gift for Ampato, Susan Vande Griek’s heavy-handed, badly written, Eurocentric recreation of Inca society 500 years ago.

Timta and her friend Karwa are both selected to be “chosen ones,” young girls groomed for life in the sacrifice pool of the Great Inca. Chosen to become the ultimate sacrifice, Timta does not want the honor, saying to her friend,

I cannot see myself among the gods, Karwa. I only want to stay here among my people and the llamas in this stony valley. Oh, Karwa, you are so good, so believing, so sure of things. Why can't I be like that?

Karwa lets her off the hook by answering,

I think we are each as we are, Timta. What is right for me maybe is not what is right for you, no matter what the priests or women say. I would gladly go to the gods for my people, for you. Can you see that, Timta? Do you understand? I would go for you.

At the same time, Riti, whose own daughter had been sacrificed the last time the gods were angry (the volcano was letting off minor eruptions) has had it with these people. She packs up her things, loads them on her llamas, and is leaving for the coast when she meets up with the runaway Timta, saves her from the guards, and together they head down the mountain to a new life away from human sacrifice and false gods.

Maybe young Inca women were rebellious of family and society in those days. Maybe they did run away from responsibility. Maybe they did think of themselves as individuals rather than as members of a highly defined society. Maybe they would let a friend take their place at the most important event in their lives. Maybe they did possess the same values as modern American middle-class teenagers who are products of over-permissive parenting and a materialistic culture. Or, more likely, maybe the author decided that young readers couldn’t possibly relate to teenage members of a society in which emphasis is placed on the welfare of the group rather than that of the individual. In any case, this book just doesn’t work. 

Why is the idea of human sacrifice seen as something to which today’s young people cannot relate? Why are gory details that both fascinate and repel young people—and set into a fake social context—seen as worthwhile reading? If this concept were discussed in terms relevant to young people—like Buddhist monks who believe in something so deeply that they are willing to give their lives; or like young men being sent off to die in wars they do not understand—maybe then the term “human sacrifice” would make more sense. Not recommended.

—Judy Zalazar Drummond
(published 4/11/13)

These reviews, in a slightly different form, first appeared in A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children, edited by Doris Seale and Beverly Slapin (AltaMira Press, 2005). We thank the publisher for permission.

Cinco de Mayo: Yesterday and Today

authors: Maria Christina Urrutia and Rebeca Orozco

Groundwood Books, 1999

grades 2-4 

Mexican

This picture book is about the Battle of Puebla, when, on May 5, 1862, outnumbered and poorly armed Mexican forces won an historic victory against the French colonial army. The battle is celebrated yearly on the fifth of May—El Cinco de Mayo—and memorialized with a holiday in regions of Mexico and Mexican-American communities. What makes this book special is that it places engravings that appeared in the French media at the time of the battle alongside color photographs of a contemporary reenactment of the battle at a celebration that took place in San Miguel Tlaixpan, Mexico. The historical accounts are based on war reports by the Mexican generals, and the text is based on contemporary oral accounts from festival participants. This seamless interweaving of history and legend is highly recommended.

—Beverly Slapin

(published 4/6/13)