Birdie’s Beauty Parlor / El salón belleza de Birdie

author: Lee Merrill Byrd

translator: Luis Humberto Crosthwaite

illustrator: Francisco Delgado

Cinco Puntos Press, 2020

preschool-up

Chicana

What do you do if you’re a little girl with a great imagination and not very much to do and the only person you have to play with at the moment is your grandma? And she’s all worn out. What do you do? You go through her drawers and dump all her makeup and everything else you need on her bed; you put a towel under her head to make sure she’s comfortable—and the grandma makeover is on!

Birdie’s Beauty Parlor / El salón belleza de Birdie uproariously depicts the close relationship between a patient, loving Chicana abuelita and her artfully ambitious young nieta.

Although Birdie’s Beauty Parlor / El salón belleza de Birdie is based on a true story about Lee Merril Byrd and her own granddaughter, Emma “Birdie” Byrd, fronteriza artist Francisco Delgado used his children, Citlali and Itzel, as models for bossy beautician Birdie; and his mother-in-law—whose many skills include relaxing under pressure—posed for Abue.

Delgado’s art— on a background spray-painted with thinned acrylic and illustrations filled in with colored pencil and acrylics—complements both Birdie’s entusiasmo sin fin and Abue’s paciencia sin fin. On one spread, for instance, Birdie is focused on pulling out one of her abuelita’s gigantic chin hairs while Abue is focused on not screaming. And on another illustration, Abue even allows her nieta to pinch her lips (¡Ay!) in order to apply the lipstick just-so. 

As always, Crosthwaite’s talent in idiomatic translation follows the hilarious tone of the story and illustrations while maintaining their rhythm and exuberance, so both young hablantes and English-speakers will laugh out loud at Birdie’s abuelita’s makeover. For instance, the rhyming English on the back cover tells young English-readers:

When Grandma’s ready to hit the hay, there’s still one game you both can play—Birdie’s make up will save the day!

And Crosthwaith’s rhyming Spanish speaks to young hablantes: 

Abue nada más se quiere acostar, pero todavía se puede jugar—maquillala bien y hazla brillar! 

(The direct English translation would be: “Grandma just wants to go to bed, but you can still play—put her makeup on and make her shine!”)

Together, Byrd’s riotous, no holds-barred story, Crosthwaite’s brilliant idiomatic Spanish translation and Delgado’s delightful illustrations are filled with humor and warmth and demonstrate the love between an exuberant little girl and her ever-patient abuelita. 

Finalmente, after treating her abuelita to a foot massage, putting earrings in her ears and expertly wrapping a bufanda around her head, Birdie holds up a mirror so both she and Abue can admire her handiwork.

Indeed, Abue’s face is a work of art: almost totally enveloped in rouge, her eyebrows and eyelids are purple, blue and yellow; white dots of talcum powder cover her chin, and bright, bright red lipstick fills much more than just her lips. ¡Birdie es la jefa¡

Now done with Abue, Birdie turns to the story’s young readers: “Who’s next?” she asks. “¿Quién sigue?”

As with Byrd’s and Delgado’s earlier Juanito Counts to Ten / Johnny cuenta hasta diez (2010), young hablantes who want to learn English and English speakers who want to learn Spanish will revel in this hilarious family story. 

*Highly recommended for all home, classroom and library collections. 

—Beverly Slapin

(published 7/28/20)

[Note: With only the English title displayed on the cover, there’s no indication until the first story page that Birdie’s Beauty Parlor / El salón belleza de Birdie is bilingual. Whether this was an error or a design decision, it needs to be corrected in the next edition—BHS]

Little Chanclas

author: José Lozano

illustrator: José Lozano

translator: Luis Humberto Crosthwaite 

Cinco Puntos Press, 2015 

preschool-grade 2 

Mexican American

Little Lily Luján loves her chanclas. In a whole school year, their flipitin-flipitónes have accompanied her to “six quinceñeras, four baptisms, three weddings, two graduations, and sixteen family barbecues.” Everyone can hear Lily coming and going, and that’s why her nickname has become “Little Chanclas.”

Although the unrelenting, noisy flipitin-flipitón of Lily’s chanclitas majorly annoys everyone—relatives, neighbors, and others in the community—no one takes her flip-flops away. After all, they are part of who Lily is and how she navigates her world.

Now, every adult (but not necessarily every child) knows that nothing lasts forever—even flip-flops. Once their delicate straps break, it’s over. Lily’s personal tragedy occurs when the straps snap during a family barbecue, one of the chanclas falls into the guacamole bowl, and Chewcho, the neighborhood bulldog, quickly swallows the other one. ¡Aye, que no! Lily’s chanclitas are gone, she’s totally bummed, and there’s no consoling her.

Lily’s relationship to her beloved flip-flops and how friends, family and community members react to the strong-willed little girl is the essence of the story. As her Abuela gently and wisely reminds frustrated family members of their own childhood flirtations with flip-flops, the unspoken subtext demonstrates the acceptance of individual differences and the care and patience bestowed on the community’s children, who are to be loved and indulged rather than scolded or punished.

Using watercolor and inks on a vibrant palette of mostly oranges, yellows, blues and greens, Lozano’s art is reminiscent of the great Mexican and Chicano murals, especially those in East Los Angeles, the Mission District of San Francisco, and the Tex-Mex border towns. Flip-flop designs fill all of the front matter and back matter, and there are chanclas on virtually every interior page as well. Stylized full-bleed illustrations that often spread to parts of the accompanying pages contain real cultural events and real characters whose faces encompass the wide range of ethnic mixes among the Raza peoples in the Chicano communities.

Adding cultural authenticity and lively storytelling for young readers and listeners—hablantes and English speakers together—are the Spanglish words and phrases, together with onomatopoetic word play, all flawlessly woven into both texts. There’s, for example, Lily Luján’s “chanclas slippity-slappetying like castanets” (or, in Spanish, her “chanclas flipitín-flipitoneaban como castañuelas”). And, after Chewcho gobbles down one of Lily’s chanclas, “Chewcho se enfermó de chanclitis.” There are also some tongue-twisting place names tossed into the mix: Benny’s Burgertería, por ejemplo, and Sukey’s Sushitería.

It would seem that author-illustrator José Lozano and translator Luis Humberto Crosthwaite —who both demonstrate a dry wit and deft command of language—worked together, a practice rarely permitted in publishing.

Of course, Lily eventually grows to love a variety of other kinds of shoes—including high heels and moccasins—as well as her beloved chanclas. But her new favorites become—CLEATS! And, while everyone hears Lily’s “clickety-clackety ruckus” on the soccer field, no one cares. As she scores one goal after another, “todos gritarán de emoción,” ¡Échale ganas, Chanclitas!

The charm and enthusiasm of Little Chanclas (the child) invites young readers and listeners into her world, and the vibrant illustrations and upbeat word play of Little Chanclas (the book) is a delight for everyone.

—Beverly Slapin
(published 8/11/16)

My Tata’s Remedies / Los remedios de mi tata // My Nana's Remedies / Los remedios de mi nana

Here are two children’s picture books by the same author. They are almost identical in title, some content and general theme; but much different in concept, approach and overall execution. Although   My Tata’s Remedies / Los remedios de mi tata  appears to be a majorly improved version of  My Nana’s Remedies / Los remedios de mi nana, I’m examining the two titles here because they were published as separate projects.

author: Roni Capin Rivera-Ashford

translators: Roni Capin Rivera-Ashford and Luis Humberto Crosthwaite 

illustrator: Antonio Castro L. 

Cinco Puntos Press, 2015 

grades 2-up 

Mexican, Mexican American

In My Tata’s Remedies / Los remedios de mi tata, young Aaron expresses interest in learning how Tata Augustine (or “Tata Gus,” as everyone calls him) makes his remedies, and the elder curandero decides that this is as good a time as any to begin the child’s education—“poco a poco te voy a ir enseñando qué usar y cuándo usarlo.” He directs his grandson to the shed in which dried flowers hang from rafters, and jars and bags are filled with other traditional medicinals—leaves, herbs and teas—each labeled, sorted and stored in its appropriate place.

As it happens, Tata’s first patient of the day is Aaron, who has hit himself in the forehead with the balero that Tata had given him. With Árnica de la Abuela and Árnica flowers—along with a handclap and a well-known healing rhyme—Tata’s remedy soon has the desired effect.

As each person in the community—relative, friend and neighbor—presents a health problem, Tata tells his grandson exactly what to get and where to find it, and then shows him how a particular herb or tea is used to solve a particular problem. Aaron learns, poco a poco, how to take away a bee sting, how to make feet stop itching, and how to cure diaper rash, burns, eye infections, and even a cold and a toothache. When Mamá and Uncle Mark arrive, they’re invited to spend the night, and Aaron gets to experience yet another cure and some stories from the family’s past. As Tata tucks him in and reminds him of the necessity of practice, Aaron thinks about how fortunate he is to have Tata as his grandfather and his teacher as well: “To have a loving grandfather is like a santo remedio—a magical cure!” / “Tener un abuelo cariñoso es como un santo remedio.”

Castro L.’s realistic and expressive single-page illustrations, rendered in colored pencil and watercolors, complement this authentic and loving portrayal of close family and community ties. Here is a horrified Sara, being stung by a bee. Here is an unhappy Justin, soaking his itchy feet in Creosote rinse. Here is baby Anita, “crying up a storm,” suffering from diaper rash. Here is Malila, in pain from a deep burn on her arm. Here is Rudy, the postman, with a red nose and watery eyes. Here is mariachi José Luis (“Guapo”), massaging his aching mouth. And here is a young child beginning to learn from his Tata how to help people in the community; a kind, generous Tata passing on his knowledge of healing and sharing—while an ever-patient Nana, with a big smile, provides comfort with fresh-baked empanadas and hot chocolate.

The endpapers remind me of earth and roots, and beautifully designed text pages—reminiscent of aged paper on which well-used recipes might be found—extend each full illustration and depict a specific herb with its common name in English and Spanish. As well, the back matter contains a helpful and educational bilingual “Glossary of Medicinal Herbs & Remedies / Glosario de hierbas medicinales y remedios,” in which each illustrated entry has both its common and scientific name in English and Spanish.

The excellent idiomatic Spanish is sometimes translated and sometimes interpreted, so the story flows in Spanish as effortlessly as English. Here, for instance, as Tata intones the children’s healing rhyme, “Sana, sana, colita de rana, si no sanas hoy, sanará mañana” (which translates as, “Heal, heal, little frog’s tail, if you don’t heal today, you’ll heal tomorrow”), young Aaron explains that it’s Tata’s way of saying, “I’ll kiss it and rub it and make it go away. Now that you’re better, you can go out and play!” In the Spanish version, of course, there is no explanation because none is necessary.

Rather than a typical European “beginning-conflict-resolution” children’s story that tells rather than shows, this beautiful book shows how oral teaching of traditional herbal remedies is transmitted across generations of community.

My Tata’s Remedies / Los remedios de mi tata, which won Antonio Castro L. an Illustrator Honor Book Pura Belpré Award, is a pleasure to look at, read, and learn from—and is highly recommended.

author: Roni Capin Rivera-Ashford

translator: Roni Capin Rivera-Ashford 

illustrator: Edna San Miguel 

Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum Press, 2002 

grades 2-up 

Mexican, Mexican American

In My Nana’s Remedies / Los remedios de mi nana, there is no community to speak of. All we see of the family are a young unnamed narrator, her unnamed Nana, and her unnamed baby brother, who observes what little action there is. The story consists in its entirety of a list of conditions (“when I have a headache…”) followed by Nana’s cure (“my nana prepares for me…”). Each double-page spread depicts the narrator’s or her brother’s problem (sore throat, sleeplessness, stomachache, headache, chill, and fright) and Nana’s dispensing the traditional or herbal remedy.

The Spanish is grammatical and functional, closely following the English. Except for the next-to-last spread, which has a number of errors. Here, the English reads:

Whenever I don’t feel well, my nana is always at my side.

“I’ll kiss it, I’ll kiss it, and make it go away; then you can go out and play.”

And the Spanish reads:

Cuando no me siento bien, mi nana siempre está a mi lado, y me dice:

—Sana, sana, colita de rana. Si no sanas ahora, sanarás mañana…—

Here, “Sana, sana,” the healing rhyme, which is used by parents and grandparents all over Latin America to take a child’s attention away from a hurt or illness, is confusing; it's neither a translation nor an interpretation of the English that precedes it. Rather, the English, if anything, should have been used to explain the Spanish (as it was done in My Tata’s Remedies / Los remedios de mi tata). And “ahora” should be “hoy.”

San Miguel’s bright and colorful single- and double-page watercolor illustrations may appeal to some children, but they’re cartoonish and jarring. For instance, the young narrator and her little brother have exaggerated expressions and Walter Keane-like eyes, Nana’s eyes are often hidden behind her spectacles, and there’s just too much going on in each illustration. In addition, some of the pictures are confusing: the narrator’s “little baby brother,” on one page, is an infant; a few pages later, he’s about three years old; and on a later page, he’s a toddler. 

The back matter contains a “Medicinal Plants Glossary / Glosario de plantas medicinales,” with illustrations of several medicine plants, along with their common and scientific names in English and Spanish. The introduction to this section in English, in referring to the Native peoples of Mexico and southwestern US, uses the word, “Indian,” eight times (Mayo Indians, Yaqui Indians, Seri Indians, etc.); while the Spanish more accurately refers to the Native Nations without the extraneous ending “Indians” (“Los Mayos viven al sur de Sonora en las orillas,” “Los Yaquis viven a lo largo de las márgines del río Yaqua,” etc.). 

In Mexico, the southwestern US, and all over Latin America, curanderas are important and esteemed community members who practice and teach traditional and herbal cures to everyone, not just to their immediate families. But here, on a close to last spread, our young narrator (who is finally smiling) says, “How lucky I am to have such a special nana! She is my very own, personal healer.” (“¡Qué fortuna tener una nana tan especial! Ella es mi curandera personal.”) Except for information about specific traditional cures, there is no story here—no cultural teaching—and, unlike My Tata’s Remedies / Los remedios de mi tata, there is no relationship with the community. Many lost opportunities here; My Nana’s Remedies / Los remedios de mi nana, the earlier version, is marginally recommended.

—Beverly Slapin

 (published 6/12/16; revised 6/14/16)

Charro Claus and the Tejas Kid

author: Xavier Garza 

illustrator: Xavier Garza 

translator: Luis Humberto Crosthwaite 

Cinco Puntos Press, 2008 

kindergarten-grade 4 

Mexican, Mexican American

¡Orale! Did you know that Santa Claus has a Mexican cousin? ¡De veras! Pancho, young Vincent’s tío, is Santa’s primo! He can speak Spanish and English and sings like a mariachi. Pues, Santa is getting older, the border along the Río Grande is too long—and he needs help. So when Pancho agrees to help his primo deliver gifts to all the children living in towns on the US-Mexican border, his raggedy, ill-fitting mariachi outfit is transformed into “a gold jacket with matching sequined trousers, rattlesnake-skin boots with silver spurs, a big sombrero covered in gold sequins and blinking Christmas lights, a great big cape and a golden mask.” He becomes—¿estan listos?—the great Charro Claus, and his nieto,Vincent, who jumps out of his tío’s magic sack of presents, becomes Charro Claus’s assistant, the mask- and cape-wearing Tejas Kid!

With their broken-down wagon turned brand new, a sack filled with magic dust, and their incredible Flying Burritos—decked out in lucha libre masks and tiny capes—suddenly rising up in the air, Charro Claus and the Tejas Kid are off! And, on this particular Christmas Eve, on this magic night, nothing can keep the two from delivering toys to all the children who live along the border.

Not even rain or cloudy skies or walls or wire fences keep them from crossing back and forth to El Paso and to Ciudad Juárez, to Roma and to Miguel Alemán, to Río Grande City and to Camargo. On that big starry night, there’s no town or city, no matter how big or small, that the newly named Charro Claus forgets. How could he? The border is his home!

The English and Spanish texts are attractively laid out close together, either on the same page or opposing pages, offering opportunities for hablantes and Spanish learners to read or follow along in either or both languages. And Spanish words are occasionally sprinkled into the English text, the way that bilingual people speak.

In an interesting afterword, Garza relates family stories about and childhood experiences with individuals who adopted the persona of Santa Claus’s Mexican cousin, “Pancho Claus,” bringing gifts to the neighborhood kids. Garza later wrote this version for his young son, Vincent, changing “Pancho” to “Charro” and modeling tío and nieto after themselves.

Garza’s expressive characters, in bold, full-page, graphic novel-type illustrations, heavily saturated and thickly drawn in acrylic on paper—and his warm, bright palette of mostly reds and oranges with dark blue star-lit skies—will easily draw young readers into the magic of the story.

I’d like to see every child living in the towns on both sides of the outrageous, forbidding, miles-long barb-wired fence—and especially, every refugee child held in the border-town detention centers—own a copy of this book. They could all use a little magic, right about now. Charro Claus and the Tejas Kid is highly recommended.

—Beverly Slapin

(published 11/27/15)

Maximilian: The Mystery of the Guardian Angel, a Bilingual Lucha Libre Thriller // Maximilian: The Bingo Rematch, A Lucha Libre Sequal

author: Xavier Garza

illustrator: Xavier Garza 

translator: Luis Humberto Crosthwaite
translator: Carla González Campos 

Cinco Puntos Press, 2011 
grades 6-up

Mexican American

Lucha Libre is a battle between good and evil, between técnicos and rudos. The symbolism of Lucha Libre plays out in the realities of the streets of Mexico and the impoverished Mexican-inhabited border towns of southern Texas: the struggle between extreme poverty and extreme wealth, between honesty and dishonesty, between justice and injustice. Everywhere in the Lucha Libre world, the battle is the same, everyone understands the symbolism, and the masked, caped and costumed luchadores—the “social wrestlers”—are the superheroes of the community.

In both novels, artist, teacher and storyteller Xavier Garza, who lives in San Antonio, captures drama and everyday life along the border, in a way that will appeal to middle readers.

In Mystery of the Guardian Angel, soon-to-be sixth grader Maximilian, like many Mexican-American youngsters, is a Lucha Libre fan. He knows the names and stories of all the luchadores, collects the colorful masks of his favorites, and attends every such event he can. If Max had to name the one luchador in the world that he idolizes, this would be the iconic Ángel de la Guarda (Guardian Angel), the greatest of all Lucha Libre legends, the fearless luchador who has been taking on all rudos—in the ring and in movies—for some four decades. 

But Max’s world suddenly changes when he slips over the guardrail and discovers the identity of the Guardian Angel, someone closer to him than he ever would have imagined. And Max wants to be him.

Garza’s extended network of luchadores—among them the hated rudos Vampire Velasquez, la Dama Enmascarada, and the chain-collar wearing Dog-Man Aguayo; and the técnicos Aztec Princess, el Toro Grande, and, of course, el Ángel de la Guarda—in many ways mirror Maximilian’s extended family of parents, siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins. All are complex, fiery, and have each other’s back; and readers will find out that their personal boundaries often cross the guardrails as well.

There is enough fast-moving action here to hold the attention of the most testosterone-filled middle-grade boys. Here, despite the rules that mixed tag team matches prohibit men and women from wrestling with each other, the rudos are not above cheating:

A dazed Toro Grande turns and is instantly greeted by a clobbering left punch followed by a staggering right uppercut from la Dama Enmascarada. She then bounces off the ropes to build up steam and delivers a devastating dropkick that knocks el Toro Grande right down to the mat…. La Dama Enmascarada is going wild on el Toro Grande. She begins to stomp him with her feet. She goes as far as doing the Mexican hat dance on el Toro Grande’s back. It’s humiliating!

As well, there are life lessons. Years ago, when young Rodolfo, then new to the world of Lucha Libre, had complained about the intense training, retired luchador Joaquin Anaya told him:

You see that man over there?….His wrestling moniker is el Demonio. His real name is Alejandro. He left his job as a railroad worker to pursue his dream of becoming a masked luchador. He has a wife and six kids. One day your life could be in his hands. And vice versa. Every time you and your opponents go out into that ring, you’re completely dependent on each other. You have to work together. One wrong move, one missed fall or slight miscalculation can send both of you to the hospital or worse.

What young Maximilian discovers and how his discovery plays out is a coming-of-age tale in itself.

author: Xavier Garza

illustrator: Xavier Garza

translator: Francisco Vargas

Cinco Puntos Press, 2013 
grades 6-up

Mexican American

In Bingo Rematch, conflict reigns as Maximilian is beginning junior high, a challenge everyone who’s ever been to junior high will remember. In school, will the mean eighth-graders prevail? In the ring, there’s an all-out war between the técnicos and rudos, of course. Who will sacrifice himself to save a semi-conscious tag-team partner? There’s an almost all-out, “no holds barred brawl” between Tía Dolores and Tía Socorro, who both claim the Queen Bingo trophy. Will Father Martinez rig the lotería game in order to achieve peace? Will a moral lesson end a life-long feud? Maximilian’s love, Celia, “the girl of his dreams,” abruptly moves to California, and a new girl with a mysterious connection enters the scene. Will Max’s and Celia’s long-distance love last or will the newcomer's machinations have dire consequences? When Max comes to the realization that he belongs to Lucha Libre “royalty,” will he learn how being involved in Lucha Libre can devastate family relationships?

As in Guardian Angel, Bingo Rematch is an intense, quick-paced page-turner that will grab both English readers and hablantes, especially boys. As both Lucha Libre stories careen from action to hilarious telenovela and back again (in Guardian Angel, for instance, spurned girlfriend becomes ruda in order to tackle and humiliate ex-boyfriend who finds out too late that…), middle readers will also encounter often-explosive, yet enduring, family relationships and outside-the-ring, bonding camaraderie among Lucha Libre’s “sworn enemies.”

Garza’s full-color covers, in acrylic on paper, shows us a determined, young, die-hard Lucha Libre aficionado; and he begins each chapter with bold, black-and-white art—rendered in pen-and-ink and brush—that recaptures the feel of the old El Santo comic books.

One of the things that make these books outstanding is their careful Spanish translation, done at least as well as the English version; I’m especially impressed at the way the idiomatic English is interpreted into idiomatic Spanish. (In Bingo Rematch, for instance, Max’s mom lets his sister Rita know that she knows who broke the piggy bank. In English, Mom tells Rita: “Don’t lie. I caught you red-handed.” And in Spanish, it becomes, “No me eches mentiras, Rita…Te agarré con las manos en la masa.” In addition, the brilliant book design features parallel translations that facilitate bilingualism, so both English speakers who are learning Spanish and hablantes who are learning English can enjoy the story without having to break the action to locate the translation. 

Both Maximilian & the Mystery of the Guardian Angel and Maximilian & the Bingo Rematch are fresh, engaging bilingual novels, action-packed and sometimes over-the-top silly. Guardian Angel won Xavier Garza a 2012 Pura Belpré Honor Award, and both novels are highly recommended.

—Beverly Slapin

(published 11/1/15)