Family Poems for Every Day of the Week / Poemas Familiares para cada día de la semana

author: Francisco X. Alarcón

illustrator: Maya Christina González 

Children’s Book Press / Lee & Low, 2017 

preschool-up 

Mexican American

We all know that a circle has no beginning and no end. In Family Poems for Every Day of the Week / Poemas Familiares para cada día de la semana, everything is circular, everything is happening at the same time, and everyone is present at every moment. 

Each double-page spread contains an etymology of a particular day of the week. With Spanish predominating and English following, an individual poem stands alone and, at the same time, joins with the others to create a circle with the subliminal message that we are all related.

The life and work of the beloved, openly gay Chicano poet and educator, Francisco X. Alarcón, straddled three cultures. Creating work for children and adults in Nahuatl, Spanish and English, Alarcón passed on too soon—almost at the completion of this, his last book. Here, he returns to visit as a queer child, embodied in the book’s young narrator. Alone or in the company of family and friends, this child traverses the days of the week, displaying varying emotions: boredom, loneliness, thoughtfulness, joy—and, as did Alarcón, awareness of everyone and everything in the many circles of life. 

Although Spanish is a gendered language and Alarcón’s poetry maintains it as such, Maya Christina González's art is gender-expansive and loaded with visual subtext. While each of Alarcón’s poems is rich, brilliant and almost always playful, so is González s art. As she writes in her Illustrator’s Note, the art “tells the story inside the story.”

Rendering her full-bleed double-page spreads in watercolor, gouache and acrylic markers, González uses color as a form of spiritual expression. Her bright palette encompasses both warm and cool colors that dance together on every page, complementing rather than competing with each other. As well, lines are rounded and curved, and everywhere there are circles. In backgrounds, on clothing, in the patterns on the animales, and even on the faces of the elders, they display a connectedness of everything and everyone.

Alarcón’s craft, as always, shines. On each spread he presents two or more poems in Spanish and English. Although he connects them to a particular day of the week, neither is a translation; rather, each has its own internal rhythm that reflects both the dreams and realities of the young narrator. 

For instance, on Monday, there is daydreaming:

este día se llama igual que la Luna— por eso quizás	this day is named after the Moon— maybe that’s why
al mediodía aún estoy soñando con la Luna el lunes	at noon I’m still daydreaming on the Moon on Monday

But Monday also brings an impossible wish:

cómo me gustaría que el lunes se volviera en domingo otra vez	how I wish Monday would just turn back into Sunday
para que mis papacitos no tuvieron que salir a trabajar al amanecer	so my dear parents wouldn’t have to go out to work at dawn

Family Poems for Every Day of the Week / Poems Familiares para cada día de la semana is both playful and serious, an LGBTQ-friendly children’s book that works with words and images in ways that encourage young readers and listeners—hablantes and English-speakers alike—to embrace who they are and how they see themselves. It’s full of verbal and visual communication that sends messages of love, comfort and belonging to everyone who is part of the great circle. 

There are far too few books for young people like this. One of my all-time favorites is González’s Call Me Tree / Llámame arbol (Children’s Book Press / Lee & Low, 2015). (See De Colores review here: http://decoloresreviews.blogspot.com/2015/02/call-me-tree-llamame-arbol.html). And Family Poems for Every Day of the Week / Poemas Familiares para cada día de la semana is another. 

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


—Beverly Slapin
(published 2/11/18)

Francisco X. Alarcón: ¡Presente!

I Know the River Loves Me / Yo sé que el río me ama

author: Maya Christina González

translator: Dana Goldberg 

illustrator: Maya Christina González 

Children’s Book Press / Lee & Low, 2009 

all grades 

Mexican American  

Deep inside, young children everywhere know that all the elements of Creation are alive and have volition and feelings. Young Maya is no different. She knows the river loves her and that her love comes with the responsibility to take care of the river. 

With lyrical prose and flowing pictures, González shows the relationship between child and river—the river holds her reflection, sings her name, cools her down, holds her up, and is always there for her. In return, young Maya collects the garbage others have left—bottles, papers, plastic six-pack holders—and takes it all away.

González’s ink-and-charcoal illustrations, on double-page spreads, are sparse and lovely. In every illustration, Maya is smiling: waving to the river, dipping her feet, communing with her reflection, jumping on the river’s back and leaping into the river’s arms. While she paints Maya in monochromatic browns with long, flowing hair, González uses generous swirling and whirling lines on a palette of vibrant blues, aquas and greens to capture the river’s flow; browns for the birds, greens for the fishes and frogs, and a smattering of pinks and purples for the flowers and butterflies. One of my favorite illustrations is a smiling Maya (of course), standing on a bridge; her dress is patterned in the swirling blue lines that actually join with the river.

Dana Goldberg’s Spanish translation reads as elegantly as the English—“I watch her change like me” becomes “Veo que el río cambia como cambio yo”—so the youngest readers and listeners in either or both languages will enjoy this charming little book over and over.  I Know the River Loves Me / Yo sé que el río me ama is highly recommended. 

—Beverly Slapin

(published 5/21/15)

Call Me Tree / Llámame árbol

author: Maya Christina González  

translator: Dana Goldberg 

illustrator: Maya Christina González

Children’s Book Press / Lee & Low, 2015 

all grades 

Mexican American

Using watercolor, ink and pencil on a gorgeous, vibrant palette of mostly pinks, oranges, blues and greens, González constructs double-page spreads full of magical realism. In this inviting scenario, there are children and trees, in some places leaning into each other; in some places, so close they actually enjoin. The clouds are pink cotton-candy puffs, the roots are curlicues, and different patterns of leaves and bark imply different species as the children’s faces imply varying ethnicities. 

It’s not much of a stretch to imagine the children as the trees and the trees as the children; rather, they are a part of each other, hair/ leaves blowing in the wind, little feet reaching down into the earth to join with the roots, arms/ branches open wide to take in new experiences; at one with each other and the world. For children, Call Me Tree/ Llámame árbol is about knowing who you are and your place in the world; for adults, it’s about appreciating children for the amazing little beings they are.

González’s spare text in English and Goldberg’s Spanish version are both lyrical and expressive, so young hablantes and English learners, as well as English speakers and Spanish learners, will appreciate both.

Some sing songs / Some sing along / All trees have roots / All trees belong

Unos cantan canciones / Otros se unen al coro / Todos los árboles tienen raíces / Todos los árboles tienen un lugar

“Some sing songs, others join the chorus; all trees have roots, all trees have a place.” What a lovely and loving message for all children!

By portraying the children as gender-neutral in addition to multi-ethnic, González opens up more possibilities for child readers and listeners: young children who identify as girls or boys or both or neither can see themselves in everyone. In this sense, Call Me Tree/ Llámame árbol may be a first. It’s brilliant, loving, compassionate, and a thing of beauty—a treasure to be savored, over and over.

This beautiful little book brings to mind something that the great Cuban revolutionary, José Martí, said: “Trabajamos para los niños porque los niños saben amar, porque los niños son la esperanza del mundo.” (“We work for children because children know how to love, because children are the hope of the world.”) Call Me Tree / Llámame árbol is highly recommended. Thank you, Maya and Dana.

—Beverly Slapin
(published 2/6/15)

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 Colors, My World / Mis colores, mi mundo

author: Maya Christina González

illustrator: Maya Christina González

Children’s Book Press / Lee & Low, 2007 

preschool-grade 3 

Mexican American

Unless they actually live in the desert, young children are likely to think that this environment is harsh, hot and dusty and its flora consist entirely of cacti and tumbleweeds.

My Colors, My World is a refreshing, poetic, beautifully illustrated bilingual “concept book” that invites youngest readers and listeners to explore colors, shapes, science, geography, and how people live in their environments. 

As an exuberant little girl thinks about the colors in and around her desert home in the Mohave Desert, sometimes everything seems to be relatively monochromatic, but on close examination, everything becomes a brilliant riot of colors, tones, shapes, and textures. While young Maya shares her day of simple pleasures—from standing in the wind, to swaying on her swing, to having tea with the flowers, to greeting her Papi as he comes home from work, to watching “the hot pink sky turn into a dark blue night”—she invites young readers into her world.

Introducing a new color on each page with the words of the colors painted in those colors, González’s acrylic-on-paper illustrations, in the rich colors of the desert, are big and bold and imaginative and joyful. And the Spanish translation is as simple and elegant as the English.

This lively and colorful little book uses magical realism to draw in young children who see life in everything. Here, the sun and the moon have faces, a little bird closes its eyes to the wind, houses lean to one side, and Maya invites purple irises to be her guests for tea—offering them a pastry that she’s made out of a mud pie, a marigold flower, a stone and a leaf.

My Colors, My World / Mis colores, mi mundo is an engaging way to introduce children to all the colors of the desert world and to inspire them to look at their own worlds as well. It’s highly recommended.

—María Cárdenas
(published 3/12/14)

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)

From the Belly Button of the Moon and Other Summer Poems / Del Ombligo de la Luna y otros poemas de verano

author: Francisco X. Alarcón

illustrator: Maya Christina González

Children’s Book Press / Lee & Low, 1998

kindergarten-grade 4 Me

Mexican

These 22 poems, in Spanish and English, celebrate the poet’s memories of his joyous childhood summers with his relatives in Mexico. Here, in the beloved town of Atoyac, he listens to his grandmother’s stories, enjoys his auntie’s delicious breakfasts, finds out about his origins, and learns that “Mexico” means “from the belly button of the moon.” Here, everything has life, everything has spirit. In “Isla/Island,” “toda isla / sueña / con ser / un continente” (“every island / dreams / of being / a continent”) and in “Mar/Sea,” “tus olas / se rien / a carcajadas” (“your waves / burst out / laughing”). And everything expresses joy.

González’s vibrant folk art paintings are full of contrasting colors and wide, bold, expressive brush strokes that complement Alarcón’s words. Highly recommended.

—Beverly Slapin

(published 4/7/13)

Animal Poems of the Iguazú / Animalario del Iguazú

author: Francisco X. Alarcón

illustrator: Maya Christina González

Children’s Book Press / Lee & Low, 2008

kindergarten-grade 2 

South American

Alarcón, author of an acclaimed series of bilingual seasonal poems, uses his visit to the Iguazú Waterfalls as inspiration for this collection. Poems depict the variety of animals that inhabit the rainforest in this region at the junction of Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay. We read of Toucan (“for a beak / I have two / papaya slices”), Parrot, Hummingbird, Martin Pescador (also known as the kingfisher), Lizard, Jaguar, Monkey, Turtle, and others. Poems also describe the earth, the sky, and the falls, and honor the indigenous Guaraní of the region. A final poem, “Same Green Fate,” urges the preservation of the rainforest: “let’s listen to / the green voice / of the rainforest … protect all of us / for the Earth’s fate / for your own sake…”

González’s mixed-media illustrations give life and personality to the creatures of the Iguazú. Because Alarcón has created the poems in both Spanish and English, readers fluent in both languages will notice that these aren’t literal translations but rather take advantage of the unique sounds and rhythms of each language. In all, this is a lively and colorful book that will hold the interest of young children and also makes a good choice for second language learners at the elementary and middle school level. Highly recommended.

—Lyn Miller-Lachmann
(published 4/7/13)