Donkey Lady Fights La Llorona and Other Stories / La señora Asno se enfrenta a la Llorona y otros cuentos

author: Xavier Garza  

illustrator: Xavier Garza

translator: Maira E. Alvarez 

Piñata Books / Arte Público Press, 2015

grades 3-7 

Mexican American

In 12 blood-curdling contemporary short stories, young protagonists encounter the legendary Donkey Lady and La Llorona, along with creepy-crawly monsters, supernatural heroes, bullies, gangsters, and even the devil.

In the title story, an incredulous Margarito tries to escape the notorious rudas, Donkey Lady and La Llorona, who battle each other to claim him as her next victim. In “Holes” (“Hoyos”), a heroic, hole-digging dog helps Joe to defeat an invasion of green-skinned, red-eyed, havoc-wreaking duendes. In “Tunnels” (“Túnales”), another Joe witnesses a crime-fighting Chupacabras putting an end to a murderous team of narcotraficantes in a border-town cave. In “The Gift That Is a Curse” (“El don maldición”), Trino’s super-protective sister isn’t afraid to use her supernatural, super-gory ability to dispose of her brother’s nemesis.

What makes these gruesome stories particularly engaging for middle-school readers is their “first-person-terrified” narrative:

Instantly I am reminded of the stories Grandma Maya told me back when I was a child, about a creature she called the Blood-Sucking Beast. Why any grandmother would think it wise to fill a child’s brain with stories of a vicious green-skinned monster that preys upon unsuspecting victims by draining every single drop of blood in their bodies is a mystery to me. But she always said the Blood-Sucking Beast was real. That it stood as tall as a full-grown man and had razor-like claws that were as sharp as brand-new steak knives, like those ones you see on TV. I hear a hissing sound behind my back. Slowly, I turn to find myself face to face with the very creature from my grandma’s stories. Its glowing red eyes stare into mine. I want to run, I really do. But with every step the creature takes, I find it harder and harder to move. It’s as if the creature’s red eyes have some kind of mind control power over me that keeps me from running. The creature gets closer and closer until it is so close that the drool dripping from the monster’s mouth falls on my sneakers.

Garza’s full-color cover, in brightly toned acrylic on paper, shows several of the creatures our young protagonists will encounter; and interspersed in each chapter with bold, black-and-white art, rendered in pen-and-ink and brush, is a visually scary reminder to readers: Be afraid, be very afraid.

Alvarez’s smooth idiomatic Spanish translation reads as well as the English. The term, “finders keepers, losers weepers,” becomes the old dicho, “El que lo encuentra se lo queda.” Trino says of his sister’s witching powers, “She calls them visions. I call them a pain in the butt.” In Spanish, he says, in a tone that’s milder but no less exasperated, “Las llama visiones. Yo las llamo dolores de cabeza.” When a blood-sucking beast kills Victor’s girlfriend’s father’s dog, Victor describes Chip as “dead as a doornail!” And in Spanish, it’s “¡está más muerto que muerto!”

These Twilight Zone-creepy stories will appeal to bilingual readers who can read each one in Spanish and in English, hablantes who are learning to read English, English speakers who are learning to read Spanish, and high-energy reluctant readers in either language. For all children who love to be scared in a safe place, The Donkey Lady Fights La Llorona and Other Stories / La señora Asno se enfrenta a la Llorona y otros cuentos is highly recommended.

—Beverly Slapin

(published 11/15/15)

Quiet Place

author: Sarah Stewart 

illustrator: David Small

Farrar Straus Giroux, 2012

preschool-grade 3 

Mexican

The Quiet Place takes place in 1957, as young Isabel and her family move from an unnamed town in Mexico to what appears to be Detroit. The front endpapers, frontispiece and title page depict unhappy people, skinny dogs and a small wagon hitched to the back of the family’s battered car, which holds all their belongings—some chairs, a dresser and a few boxes. 

As they travel north and move into their new neighborhood, Isabel and her family encounter only friendly white people—friendly white border guards, friendly white parents, friendly white children, and a friendly white teacher who doesn’t speak Spanish but smiles at Isabel. Still, the girl, feeling sad and alone, retreats with her teddy bear into a large cardboard box, which she decorates and transforms into a “quiet place.”

Isabel loves her cardboard box; she feels safe and comfortable in it. The author and illustrator may not have intended for this to be a metaphor, but it is loaded with significance. Isabel’s box fills the entire book cover. On the blue flaps, she’s drawn Mexican designs of sun, moon, stars, plants and animals. The inside “walls” are bright yellow, as is Isabel’s dress. There’s an orange shining sun on top and a shuttered window drawn on the side. On the floor, there are books, crayons, and her teddy bear for company. From inside her “quiet place,” Isabel, with a book on her lap, is looking out and smiling.

There are no other Mexican families in Isabel’s new neighborhood, no other children who share her life, who speak her language, who play games with her. When a rainstorm destroys her “quiet place,” she is inconsolable. But soon, she’s able to accumulate more boxes, ones that had held presents for the white children for whom her mother has been catering birthday parties.

From inside these discarded boxes, Isabel writes home to her Auntie Lupita, who has taught her English. The entire narrative consists of these letters—all in perfect, grammatical English—in which Isabel describes her emotions and new experiences. A final spread shows Isabel, after having creatively decorated all of her boxes, joyfully celebrating her birthday with her family and some newly found friends. Some of these friends appear to be ethnically mixed, in that the artist has tinted their faces brown. In a final letter to Auntie Lupita, Isabel expresses her happiness and, rather than ending with “Missing you,” concludes with “Wish you were here.”

Small’s colorful mixed-media artwork, which includes several wordless spreads, highlights Isabel’s initial loneliness and her transformation into a joyful child who has successfully assimilated. The Quiet Place received rave reviews from The New York Times, School Library Journal, Booklist, Kirkus, and Publishers Weekly, among others. The reviewer from School Library Journal, for instance, wrote that the story “poignantly capture(s) the emotional hardships and triumphs of the immigrant experience.”

No, it doesn’t.

First, setting this story in 1957, when thousands of Mexican workers were being recruited to work in Chicago’s meat packing plants and Detroit’s auto and steel industries, is the author’s and illustrator’s convenient way of evading the racist and violent historical and contemporary realities for immigrant and migrant Mexican workers and their families—and presenting a feel-good story for the intended audience.

It’s clear that this intended audience does not include Mexican children. It does not include young children for whom Spanish is their first language. It does not include young immigrant or migrant children. And it certainly does not include young children of color. No one in this story speaks Spanish, not even a Mexican mother consoling her child. Indeed, the only Spanish words here are “salsa,” “tamales,” “guacamole,” and the phrase “muchas gracias,” which is immediately translated into English. Since young Isabel already reads and writes fluent English, she has no issues involving learning or adapting to a new language. In fact, in Isabel’s world, there are no issues—no violence, no discrimination, no racism, no bullying, no taunting, and no suffering—because author, illustrator, and publisher do not have to see any.

Suffering, like the children in crisis on the border. Now.

Terrified mothers and fathers are sending their young children to the north, because it’s too dangerous where they live. Sometimes in the company of smugglers, these refugee children are literally running for their lives. When they get here, they are picked up by the Border Patrol and brought to detention centers with no schools, no books, and no permission to be reunited with relatives in the US. None of these thousands of unaccompanied children coming from Mexico or Central America in the last few years has been given a visa. These lonely, frightened refugee children are living in limbo—they miss their parents, their grandparents, their aunts and uncles, their cousins, and their friends—and they have no idea of what will happen to them. 

Under the illusion of “diversity,” The Quiet Place portrays immigrant and migrant children as successful as long as they quickly and easily learn English and adapt to the dominant culture while discarding their own. Here, the author, illustrator and publisher have transformed Mexican and Mexican-American children’s real lives, experiences and problems into a feel-good, pain-free picture book about assimilation for young readers who have never been forced to face the enormous difficulties associated with immigration or migration. And in doing so—in giving a young Mexican girl a discarded box to live in—the author, illustrator and publisher have contributed to the public shaming of Mexican and Mexican-American children, as well as of all immigrant, migrant and refugee children in this country.

Imagine a teacher’s reading this book to a classroom of kindergarteners in, say, El Paso. Imagine the expressions on their faces. Imagine the shocked silence and the silent tears. What an awful thing to inflict on our children. The Quiet Place is not recommended.

—Beverly Slapin

(published 11/11/15)

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)

Olita y Manyula: El gran cumpleaños / Olita and Manyula: The Big Birthday

author: Jorge Tetl Argueta
illustrator: Alex “El Aleph” Sánchez
Luna’s Press Books, 2015
kindergarten-grade 2
Pipíl, Salvadoran

In this sweet little story, which has roots in Argueta’s own childhood, young Olita (Holly), who lives in the US, has come to visit friends and family in El Salvador, where it’s “green, warm and rainy.” On Sunday, Olita’s tía, cousin and two friends are taking her to Manyula’s big birthday party. Olita has no idea who Manyula is, only that she’s their “great friend” and her house is close by. The four excited children, with Tía not far behind, walk in the rain, jump puddles, stop at a bridge to admire the bubbly water of a river, and “pass through a river of food vendors.” And finally, they meet and greet the birthday girl—the great Manyula, the elephant who came to live in El Salvador more than 50 years ago, the elephant so treasured by all that the government made her a Salvadoran citizen.

While both the English and Spanish have a rhythm that will appeal to young readers, Argueta’s Spanish is the beautiful music of an accomplished poet who knows and loves the land of his birth and his childhood streets.

In English, for instance, we read:

[W]e see the San Salvador volcano. What a giant! It looks like it’s playing soccer with the winter clouds. It’s raining the way it rains around here: tik-tik, a little bit of rain; tok-tok. The sun shines and then hides again.

And in Spanish,

[V]emos el volcán de San Salvador. ¡Qué gigante! Está jugando fútbol con las nubes de invierno. Está lloviendo como llueve aquí: pin-pin un poquito de lluvia, pon-pon, más lluvia. El sol brilla y luego se vuelve a esconder. 

Sánchez’s acrylic art on canvas, on a bejeweled palette of mostly pinks, blues and greens, portray the lushness of the land and the ethnic mixture of the Salvadoran people. As the friends walk through the countryside, young readers will take in the ever-present raindrops, a giant volcano “playing soccer with the winter clouds,” a river’s “zigzag of bubbly water,” tall bamboo stalks swinging, a rainbow’s “path of colors in the sky,” and Manyula, of course, with her huge fruit-and-veggie birthday cake.

Since way before Manyula arrived in 1960, El Salvador has been plagued by US-financed and -supported death squads, assassinations, failed revolutions, gang wars, and ownership of the country by an oligarchy of 14 families who siphon the wealth, leaving behind fear, poverty and garbage. To the strong, enduring people of El Salvador, Manyula, in effect, unites the community; she’s a beloved symbol of survival and stability.

Olita y Manyula will resonate with young children on so many different levels. As a story for little ones, including migrant, immigrant and refugee children, it can be about appreciating all the beauty that, even in the toughest of situations, life can offer. It can be about living socially, outside the vast universe of Facebook or the Internet. It can be about issues involving immigration and traveling back and forth, and the nature of the place one calls “home.” Olita y Manyula: El gran cumpleaños / Olita and Manyula: The Big Birthday, Luna’s Press’s first bilingual picture book, is highly recommended. 

—Beverly Slapin
(published 10/20/15)

Sopa de frijoles: Un poema para cocinar / Bean Soup: A Cooking Poem

author: Jorge Tetl Argueta
illustrator: Rafael Yockteng
Groundwood Books / House of Anansi Press, 2009
kindergarten-grade 2
Pipíl, Salvadoran

In this elegant, bilingual free-verse poem that is also a recipe (or recipe that is also a poem), Argueta and Yockteng show a young child how to prepare a delicious and nutritious pot of bean soup—“una sabrosa / sopita de frijoles.” And in the gathering and preparation of ingredients—chopping, adding, mixing, stirring—as well as setting the table, there are gently inserted life lessons. All things are alive, all things have volition, all things are related, and all things will give back if you afford them care and respect.


From the beginning, instructing a child in this way: “Primero pones / los frijolitos / en el cielo de la mesa. / Los frijoles son estrellitas. / Los limpias / de cualquier basurita. / Los frijolitos al chocar / unos con otros / hacen  musiquita. / Tu también puedes cantar.” (“First spread / the beans / out on the sky of the table. / The beans are stars. / Throw away / any little pebbles. / When the beans touch / they clink a little song. / You can sing too.”)—slows down the process, as well it should. 


Yockteng’s paintings, rendered in watercolor on a muted earthy-toned palette of mostly browns, with some blues and reds, complement both the soup and the story. Here is a little boy, rising from his video game to try something else. Here he is separating the beans, dropping some on the floor, juggling with some while the rest cooks. Here’s mom in a support role, mopping up, drying onion-chopping tears, watching in case she’s needed, but not interfering. As the water “boils and sings” and “the beans dance together” (“El aguita hierve y canta. / Los frijolitos bailan unos / con otros. / El aguita se ha vuelto / morena como el color / de la Madre Tierra”), the wonderful aroma visually invites the child to dance as well.


It’s clear that Argueta first composed Sopa de frijoles in Spanish and then interpreted it into English. Although the English has rhythm as well, the lyrical, idiomatic Spanish bestows a kind of volition that the English doesn’t. For instance, “El fuego va a bailar / mientras los frijoles / se van ablandando / lentamente” translates to “The fire will dance / while the beans / slowly get soft.”

On the last page—¡Ayyy, que sabor!—the aroma of the bean soup has invited the whole family to the table. Sopa de frijoles: Un poema para cocinar / Bean Soup: A Cooking Poem is highly recommended.

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

—Beverly Slapin

(published 10/18/15)

Light Foot / Pies ligeros

author: Natalia Toledo

author: Francisco Toledo 

translator: Elisa Amado 

Groundwood Books / House of Anansi Press, 2007 

all grades 

Zapotec

It all began when Death saw that all the humans and animals were having baby after baby but no one was dying, and the world was getting way too crowded. To put an end to this population explosion, Death challenges everyone to a rope-skipping contest and, being immortal, she thinks she is sure to win. One by one, Man, Toad, Monkey, Iguana, Coyote, Rabbit and Alligator keel over, and Death even manages to steal a pair of leather shoes from Man’s body. Then along comes Grasshopper….

Francisco Toledo, one of Mexico’s best-known contemporary Indigenous artists, created a series of engravings of Death skipping rope with the animals, and Natalia Toledo wrote the accompanying story in Zapotec. Interpreted into English by Elisa Amado, the story appears here in Spanish and English.

Young readers will giggle as each animal is enticed into Death’s game; and they will find out why you never hear Death when she comes into a house, and why Grasshopper never did stop jumping. Light Foot / Pies ligeros complements the celebrations of el Día de los Muertos. Highly recommended.

—Beverly Slapin

(published 10/17/15)

Napí // Napí Goes to the Mountain // Napí funda un pueblo / Napí Makes a Village

author: Antonio Ramírez

illustrator: Domi 

Groundwood Books / House of Anansi Press, 2004 

preschool-up 

Mazateca

At home on the bank of a river in Oaxaca, Napí loves to dream. She says she is poor, but that is belied by the richness of her land, her culture, and the community of which she is a valued part. In the shade of a pachota (ceiba) tree “that is so big, it protects our whole village,” Napí sits with her family; her naa (mother) braids her hair and her grandfather tells the old stories. In Napí’s world everything is alive, everything has volition and beauty; the afternoons dress themselves in greens, oranges and violets, and at night,  “the trees on the riverbank slowly bloom with herons.” 

With her umbilical cord buried in the roots of her beloved pachota, this Mazateca child is tied to the land in a very real way, and when she sleeps, the pachota brings her dreams of becoming a heron, flying along the river. Domi’s gorgeous acrylic paintings, on a rich palette of jewel-like tones, complement this quiet little story of an Indian child secure and at home in the loving arms of her family and her world. Also available in Spanish. Highly recommended.

author: Antonio Ramírez

illustrator: Domi 

Groundwood Books / House of Anansi Press, 2006 

preschool-up 

Mazateca

One evening, Napí’s namí (father) does not come home from working in the field, and his worried friends fear he might have been taken away. A nightlong search in the mountains yields nothing, so the next morning Napí and her little brother skip school and go to search for him. Upriver and in the jungle, they find themselves transformed into deer and are guided by turtles, storks, a coral snake, a bat, a mouse, and an armadillo mama, who tells them, “The family is finally together again.” Accompanied by the animals, who are “like brothers and sisters, children of the same mother, the Earth,” the children race home to a joyful reunification. “It was so good to see him,” Napí says, “that I forgot to worry about where he had been.” Again, Domi’s amazing paintings, her bold colors this time surrounded by large areas of brown wash, are perfect.

Had Napí’s father been taken by Chicón, the Lord of the Earth, or by el patrón and his thugs? We don’t know. As in Ramirez’ and Domi’s previous story, the impoverishment and terror of being Indian in Mexico (and in much of Latin America) is only hinted at, but it’s there. For many Indigenous children in the south, the threat of having your parents “disappeared” is a daily reality, and these stories, while not solely “about” this terrible situation, certainly place it in its political and social context. Also available in Spanish, Napí va a la montaña. Highly recommended.

author: Antonio Ramírez

illustrator: Domi 

Groundwood Books / House of Anansi Press, 2010 

preschool-up 

Mazateca

This third story in the Napí series is bilingual and based on Domi’s own life. Forced out of their ancestral homeland, San Pedro Ixcatlán, by the government, some 75 Mazateca families work together to build a new home. Here, Napí witnesses the “giving birth to Nuevo Ixcatlán, and that meant we had to make sacrifices.” The little girl fully understands the teachings of her elders and why her family decides to stay in this new, inhospitable land—“For us Indians, the best thing to do is to resist, to stay alive and to stay together.”

Domi’s bright, bold paintings of the lush jungle and Napí’s dreams are complemented by the browns and grays of portions of the land that the people have had to clear-cut for farming.

Told in matter-of-fact language that will resonate with young children, Napí funda un pueblo / Napí Makes a Village, without polemic, tells the story of what Indigenous peoples all over the world continue to face at the hands of rapacious and powerful governments. Highly recommended.

Ramírez and Domi continue to work for Indigenous rights, especially with the Zapatista movement in Chiapas through their Colectivo Callejero, the “streetwise collective,” an organization they helped to found.

—Beverly Slapin

(published 10/17/15)

Alfredito Flies Home // Alfredito regresa volando a su casa

author: Jorge Tetl Argueta

illustrator: Luis Garay 
Spanish author: Jorge Tetl Argueta

Groundwood Books / House of Anansi Press, 2007 

grades 3-up 

Pipíl, Salvadoran

Alfredito and his grandma and parents are preparing to go home to El Salvador for Christmas—the first time they’ve returned since they fled as refugees and made their way to California on foot. This will be the first plane ride for them, and anticipation has little worms crawling in Alfredito’s stomach. The shopping for gifts for all the friends and relatives back home; the excitement of being on a plane “that jumps like a frog and leaves everything behind”; the joyful reunion with his sister and his aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and new puppies; the visit with his grandparents who “live in the cemetery…so full of little birds and is nice and hot so my grandparents don’t feel so cold and alone”; and the good-bye piñata that no one wants to end—too soon it is over and Alfredito must fly home again, to California.

Argueta inserts Spanish terms into Alfredito’s narration and his family’s dialogue, reflecting a merger of two languages in a relaxed atmosphere. The Spanish version, Alfredito regresa volando a su casa, is idiomatic and flowing, so hablantes will enjoy the story as well.

On the cover, Alfredito is in his back yard pretending to be an airplane, while a real plane flies overhead. On the ground are the universal symbols of north and south—a football and a soccer ball—and both belong to him. Garay’s glowing, acrylic-on-canvas paintings, rich in color and detail, complement this warm story of the loving reunion of a boy and his large extended family.

Some young readers will be familiar with what it means to be so desperate to have to go with “any Señor Coyote, or run through the mountains, or hide in the trunks of cars” in order to get to el norte, where there may be the possibility of employment and the possibility of sending money home to relatives. These young readers know, as does Alfredito, that not everyone, for many reasons, gets to go back home. Alfredito Flies Home // Alfredito regresa volando a su casa bring to mind the wisdom, “¡Ningún ser humano es ilegal!”—To be human is never illegal. Both versions are highly recommended.

—Beverly Slapin

(published 10/17/15)

A Visit to Cuba // Vamos a Cuba

author: Alta Schreier

Heinemann Library, 2001

grades 2-4

Cuban

A Visit to Cuba and Vamos a Cuba are part of Heinemann’s “A Visit to” series of 24 titles, simple overviews that portray the land and people, and especially children, of various countries. As with the others, each page here contains a full-color photo accompanied by a two- or three-sentence description of the land, landmarks, homes, food, clothes, work, transportation, language, school, free time, celebrations, and the arts. Appended are key facts, a glossary and index. In addition, the English version contains a section of Spanish “words you can learn.”

In 2006, a group of vociferously anti-Castro Cubans in Miami objected to the contents of A Visit to Cuba and Vamos a Cuba, complaining that they contained deceptive information and wrongfully painted an idealistic picture of Cuban life. After a politically charged struggle—and against the recommendations of two review committees, the school board’s attorney, and the school system’s Superintendent—the Miami-Dade County School District removed A Visit to Cuba and Vamos a Cuba from school libraries. The ACLU filed a lawsuit, the US Supreme Court refused to hear it, and the board’s decision was upheld. Despite the fact that A Visit to Cuba and Vamos a Cuba were the only books in the series that had received a complaint, all 24 titles were removed from Miami-Dade County’s school libraries. The litigation expenses for the Miami-Dade School District totaled more than $250,000.

It’s worth noting that the Miami Cubans do not represent all Cuban communities in the US. When, how and why families came here are attached to different historical, economic, social and political issues. Many pro-Castro Cubans fled the anti-democratic Batista regime that supported the super-wealthy, organized crime, and US corporations, while impoverishing everyone else. Those who had been allied with Batista, along with others in the middle- and upper classes, fled the new revolution. Many worried families sent their children, who became known as “Pedro Pans,” to be raised by friends and relatives here. Many came for what they believed would be a better life, and, as the revolution progressed, many returned. Some immigrants hate Fidel, others adore him—it’s complicated. But, for the most part, Cuban communities in the US find the extremism of the Miami Cubans exasperating—they appear to be frozen in a time warp.

What infuriated the Miami Cubans about A Visit to Cuba and Vamos a Cuba is not difficult to see. Alongside short, easy-to-read statements—appropriately without political commentary—are clear photos that depict Cuba’s ethnically mixed people. Here is a group of young school children mugging for the camera. Here are children and their parents enjoying an outing. Here are large groups dancing at festivals. And here is what must certainly have enraged the Miami Cubans: joyous adults and children celebrating the Cuban national holiday called “Day of the Rebellion,” the day that marks the attack on the Moncada Army Barracks by Fidel Castro and his small group of revolutionaries on July 26, 1953. The caption simply states: “Cuba’s biggest celebration is called Carnival. It is held July 26. People dance and sing at this festival.”

However, since all of the images are stock photography inexpensively reproduced from Corbis, children will see a limited picture of Cuba. For instance, the photo on the page “homes” shows people walking down the street but not any housing. The page entitled “food” is heartbreaking. Rather than depicting a family enjoying dinner together—or an open-air market that showed the many different kinds of produce—here instead is someone holding a sad little tray of starches. While the “free time” page depicts people playing baseball, Cuba’s national sport; there is no depiction or even mention of anyone playing dominoes, the national game of Cuba. Finally, somewhere in all of the Corbis collection, there must be a beach shot that highlights the amazing turquoise water surrounding the island rather than this one puny little cove.

Unlike George Ancona’s amazing photoessay, Cuban Kids (Cavendish, 2000), many of the photos here don’t do the country justice. But considering that there are few basic—and accurate—introductory picture books about Cuba for early grades, that these depict happy and healthy Cuban children, and that they were the focus of a ridiculous right-wing lawsuit, A Visit to Cuba and Vamos a Cuba are recommended.

—Lisette Silva and Beverly Slapin
(published 10/16/15)

Maya’s Blanket / La Manta de Maya

author: Monica Brown

translator: Adriana Domínguez 

illustrator: David Díaz 

Children’s Book Press / Lee & Low, 2015 

kindergarten-grade 4

In the old Yiddish tale I know, a poor tailor finally saves enough to buy some cloth to cut and sew into an overcoat. As decades pass, his coat wears out, so he cuts and sews what’s left variously into a jacket, a vest, a cap, a button and finally—a story. In the song, “Epes fun gornisht,” the refrain is “Makhn vir epes fun gornisht azai,” “That’s how we make something from nothing,” and in the end, he makes a song. The unstated teaching is about poverty, thrift, repurposing, determination, and perseverance.

Although Maya’s Blanket / La Manta de Maya contains some elements of the traditional Yiddish story—involving the recreation of an item into one that becomes smaller and smaller until nothing is left—its characters, scenarios, particular rhythmic pattern and cumulative word structure are Brown’s own. Here, Abuelita sews a blanket, imbued with a touch of magic, for baby Maya. As young Maya matures, she and Abuelita cut and sew what’s left of the blanket into other creations, all with a touch of magic: a dress, then a skirt, then a shawl, then a scarf, then a hair ribbon, and finally a bookmark, which Maya eventually loses. Coming full circle, she creates a picture book called Maya’s Blanket, exactly like the one young readers hold in their hands.

In her cumulative word structure, Brown incorporates the Spanish term in italics for each creation and the English translation for the last on the list: “So with her own two hands and Abuelita’s help, Maya made her bufanda that was her rebozo that was her falda that was her vestido that was her manta into a cinta that she loved very much. Maya wore the ribbon tied around her long, brown hair…”

Domínguez’s Spanish translation is idiomatic and reads naturally. As she did with Brown’s Marisol McDonald Doesn’t Match / Marisol McDonald no combina, I would like to have seen the Spanish terms on the English side flipped into English on the Spanish side, like this: “Así que, con sus propias manos y la ayuda de Abuelita, Maya convertió su scarf que había sido su shawl, que había sido su skirt, que había sido su dress, que había sido su blanket, en una ribbon que quería mucho. Maya usó la cinta mágica para recogerse el largo pelo castaño…”

Young readers and listeners will enjoy the entirety of this warm little story. Maya’s Blanket / La Manta de Maya is recommended.

—Beverly Slapin

 (published 9/24/15; paragraph redacted and note added 2/15/18)

Note, 2/15/18: Multiple women have come forward with public statements that David Díaz sexually harassed them. After investigating claims against Díaz, the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI) removed him from its board and conference faculty, and expelled him from the organization. Several other conferences have banned him as well. We have redacted our references to his art in this review.