★★★★
Ah, a Christmas classic! I very much enjoyed the animated Mickey Mouse version when I was a kid, but I had never read the book until now. I did read Charles Dickens in high school, and I'd definitely forgotten how dated his writing is. The familiar story was entertaining and heartwarming, even if I did have trouble parsing some phrases, and had to settle for getting the gist of some passages. If it weren't for the accompanying illustrations, I'm not sure if I would have figured out that Bob Cratchit's "comforter" was a scarf!
One particular quote struck me as timelessly relevant. At one point (on pages 116-117 of my edition), the Ghost of Christmas Present says to Scrooge, "There are some upon this earth of yours who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name; who are as strange to us and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us."
Friday, December 28, 2018
Monday, December 24, 2018
Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood by Trevor Noah
★★★★
I'm a fan of The Daily Show, and I wanted to read this book as soon as I heard about it, but it wasn't until I watched Trevor Noah's latest Netflix special, Son of Patricia, that I finally bumped this book to the top of my to-read list. After watching him do stand-up, it's easy to imagine Trevor Noah's voice narrating each of the stories in this book, especially when there's dialogue. He uses some profanity, about the same as he uses in his stand-up.
True to its subtitle, the book focuses mostly on Trevor Noah's childhood, plus a few anecdotes from young adulthood. The book is organized by theme, not chronologically, so it sometimes feel disjointed as stories jump from childhood to adolescence back to childhood and then to young adulthood. Still, there's a storytelling arc that spans Trevor Noah's development as an individual, as he matures and comes to understand the world around him. The book just barely touches upon the fact that he eventually became a world-famous comedian; it doesn't at all address how he got into comedy or how his career came to be.
Trevor Noah discusses a number of heavy topics with just enough humor to bring perspective and entertainment while still allowing for the gravitas each subject deserves. He talks of race, identity, poverty, domestic violence, gun violence, police, prison, and healthcare. Mostly I was blown away by his account of living during apartheid in South Africa. Of course I knew apartheid existed, but I really did not understand the extent of how insanely unjust the system was, and how recently that system existed. This wasn't the mid-1800s, or even the 1950s, it was just a couple decades ago, in the years of my own youth. A worthy read if only for the educational value.
I'm a fan of The Daily Show, and I wanted to read this book as soon as I heard about it, but it wasn't until I watched Trevor Noah's latest Netflix special, Son of Patricia, that I finally bumped this book to the top of my to-read list. After watching him do stand-up, it's easy to imagine Trevor Noah's voice narrating each of the stories in this book, especially when there's dialogue. He uses some profanity, about the same as he uses in his stand-up.
True to its subtitle, the book focuses mostly on Trevor Noah's childhood, plus a few anecdotes from young adulthood. The book is organized by theme, not chronologically, so it sometimes feel disjointed as stories jump from childhood to adolescence back to childhood and then to young adulthood. Still, there's a storytelling arc that spans Trevor Noah's development as an individual, as he matures and comes to understand the world around him. The book just barely touches upon the fact that he eventually became a world-famous comedian; it doesn't at all address how he got into comedy or how his career came to be.
Trevor Noah discusses a number of heavy topics with just enough humor to bring perspective and entertainment while still allowing for the gravitas each subject deserves. He talks of race, identity, poverty, domestic violence, gun violence, police, prison, and healthcare. Mostly I was blown away by his account of living during apartheid in South Africa. Of course I knew apartheid existed, but I really did not understand the extent of how insanely unjust the system was, and how recently that system existed. This wasn't the mid-1800s, or even the 1950s, it was just a couple decades ago, in the years of my own youth. A worthy read if only for the educational value.
Friday, December 7, 2018
Seedfolks by Paul Fleischman
★★
My daughter read this book for school in 7th grade, but I'm not too keen on it. It's about a very diverse neighborhood coming together in the making of a community garden. Overall, the intent and the message of the book are positive. What troubles me is the delivery. Some might call this book "racist"; at the very least, the writing incorporates various levels of "racial insensitivity", or a lack of "racial awareness".
Listed below (at the end of this review) are race-related excerpts from the book that I believe are worth discussing, or at least clarifying. Each chapter is narrated in the first person by a different character, and most references are in the narrator's thoughts. No offense is intended in any of these references, but there's a lot to unpack just in reading the words in print. My concern is that the text itself does not provide enough context, and without sufficient analysis, young readers might come away from this book with misunderstandings about race-related concepts. Some of my examples might be nit-picky, but I think when a book is expressly written to showcase diversity, when it specifically shines a spotlight on race, it should go out of its way to get it right.
Having only 69 pages, the book is more of a novella. I was disappointed when I realized that each character gets only one chapter, so we don't see the individual stories developed. The garden itself is like the main character, and it's the growth of the garden that is told through the eyes of different people.
Aside from my concerns about race, the book includes references to a number of other topics that might be worth discussing with young readers as well. For example, death (some of the characters have family members who have died), marijuana, guns in schools, an armed robbery that results in physical abuse and PTSD, and a pregnant teenager who wishes to miscarry.
Anyway, here are the race-related references that caught my attention:
Page 4: "Gibb Street was mainly Rumanians back then."
Rumania is an alternate spelling of Romania.
According to Wikipedia: "In English, the name of the country was formerly spelt Rumania or Roumania. Romania became the predominant spelling around 1975."
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Romania
As an elderly person, Ana (the narrator of this chapter) would be accustomed to using the spelling she grew up with.
Page 5: "Then Negro families in the Depression."
According to Merriam-Webster online, the term "Negro" is "dated, now sometimes offensive".
Source: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/Negro
Ana is still the narrator, and again, as an elderly person, she might be accustomed to using the terms she grew up with. In her old age, she might not understand that "Negro" is no longer an acceptable term to use to refer to African-Americans. She probably does not mean to refer to African-Americans in a belittling way, but if she said it out loud, an African-American might be offended.
These days, "African-American" and "black" are appropriate words to use. Some African-American / black people may have a preference for which term they prefer.
Sources:
https://www.urban.org/urban-wire/say-african-american-or-black-first-acknowledge-persistence-structural-racism
https://www.politico.com/blogs/media/2013/04/an-african-american-or-a-black-160773
Page 10: "She gave me some binoculars and told me all about the Chinese girl."
Wendell (the narrator of this chapter) is referring to Kim, who is Vietnamese. He probably does not know Kim's ethnicity, so he guesses Chinese. He probably does not mean any harm, but if he said this out loud, Kim might be offended. Vietnamese language and culture is different from Chinese language and culture. Interchanging the two perpetuates the stereotype that all Asian cultures are the same, and not worth distinguishing one from the other. Instead, if you don't know a person's exact Asian country of origin, "Asian" is the appropriate word to use.
Page 14: "He doesn't speak Spanish, just an Indian language."
Gonzalo (the narrator of this chapter) is referring to his great-uncle. Since Gonzalo is from Guatemala, he is probably not using "Indian" to refer to the Asian subcontinent of India. Instead, he means someone whose ancestry is native to a particular place. There is much debate about how we should refer to these peoples: Indians? American Indians? Native Americans? Indigenous? Members of these groups typically have their own preferences regarding what to call themselves. Since Gonzalo is talking about his own family, he is using the word he is most comfortable with.
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Native_American_name_controversy
Page 26: "People bent over like coolies, walking sometimes three or four blocks, a gallon jug in each hand, complaining all the time about the water."
Sam (the narrator of this chapter) studies words as a hobby, so his use of "coolie" seems particularly unexpected.
According to Merriam-Webster online, the term "coolie" is "usually offensive".
Source: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/coolie
Sam is probably using the word "coolie" to mean "unskilled laborer". However, in America, the word has derogatory connotations stemming from the xenophobic treatment of Chinese immigrants during the mid-to-late 1800s. It's probably best not to use this word casually, except in historical context, especially when speaking about a group that includes Asians.
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coolie
Page 26: "With a few exceptions, the blacks on one side, the whites on another, the Central Americans and Asians toward the back."
See the Politico source above related to "Negro". Using "black" as a noun is a subject of debate. The same could probably be said for using "white" as a noun. Saying "black people" and "white people" would be less controversial.
Page 36: Sae Young (the narrator of this chapter) is an adult from Korea. Her entire chapter is written in broken English with poor grammar.
Though other narrators are also immigrants, this is the only chapter written in poor English. It feels like the literary equivalent of the on-screen Asian character having an accent. This kind of representation perpetuates the "other-ing" of Asians in America.
Page 43: "They liked to call me 'field slave' and 'sharecropper.' Ask how Massa's crops is doing."
This is an example of explicit racism. Young readers should understand this type of behavior is not acceptable. Some may need an explanation of "Massa".
Page 67: "It had been such a wonderful change to see people making something for themselves instead of waiting for a welfare check."
Not race-related, but the implication that people who receive welfare checks are lazy is troubling. This type of classism might also be worth discussing with young readers.
Page 69: "It was a little Oriental girl, with a trowel and a plastic bag of lima beans."
According to Merriam-Webster online, the term "Oriental" is "dated, now usually offensive".
Source: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/oriental
As with the use of "Negro", Florence (the narrator of this chapter) is an elderly person who might be accustomed to using the terms she grew up with. She probably does not mean to refer to Asians in a belittling way, but if she said it out loud, an Asian person might be offended.
My daughter read this book for school in 7th grade, but I'm not too keen on it. It's about a very diverse neighborhood coming together in the making of a community garden. Overall, the intent and the message of the book are positive. What troubles me is the delivery. Some might call this book "racist"; at the very least, the writing incorporates various levels of "racial insensitivity", or a lack of "racial awareness".
Listed below (at the end of this review) are race-related excerpts from the book that I believe are worth discussing, or at least clarifying. Each chapter is narrated in the first person by a different character, and most references are in the narrator's thoughts. No offense is intended in any of these references, but there's a lot to unpack just in reading the words in print. My concern is that the text itself does not provide enough context, and without sufficient analysis, young readers might come away from this book with misunderstandings about race-related concepts. Some of my examples might be nit-picky, but I think when a book is expressly written to showcase diversity, when it specifically shines a spotlight on race, it should go out of its way to get it right.
Having only 69 pages, the book is more of a novella. I was disappointed when I realized that each character gets only one chapter, so we don't see the individual stories developed. The garden itself is like the main character, and it's the growth of the garden that is told through the eyes of different people.
Aside from my concerns about race, the book includes references to a number of other topics that might be worth discussing with young readers as well. For example, death (some of the characters have family members who have died), marijuana, guns in schools, an armed robbery that results in physical abuse and PTSD, and a pregnant teenager who wishes to miscarry.
Anyway, here are the race-related references that caught my attention:
Rumania is an alternate spelling of Romania.
According to Wikipedia: "In English, the name of the country was formerly spelt Rumania or Roumania. Romania became the predominant spelling around 1975."
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Romania
As an elderly person, Ana (the narrator of this chapter) would be accustomed to using the spelling she grew up with.
According to Merriam-Webster online, the term "Negro" is "dated, now sometimes offensive".
Source: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/Negro
Ana is still the narrator, and again, as an elderly person, she might be accustomed to using the terms she grew up with. In her old age, she might not understand that "Negro" is no longer an acceptable term to use to refer to African-Americans. She probably does not mean to refer to African-Americans in a belittling way, but if she said it out loud, an African-American might be offended.
These days, "African-American" and "black" are appropriate words to use. Some African-American / black people may have a preference for which term they prefer.
Sources:
https://www.urban.org/urban-wire/say-african-american-or-black-first-acknowledge-persistence-structural-racism
https://www.politico.com/blogs/media/2013/04/an-african-american-or-a-black-160773
Wendell (the narrator of this chapter) is referring to Kim, who is Vietnamese. He probably does not know Kim's ethnicity, so he guesses Chinese. He probably does not mean any harm, but if he said this out loud, Kim might be offended. Vietnamese language and culture is different from Chinese language and culture. Interchanging the two perpetuates the stereotype that all Asian cultures are the same, and not worth distinguishing one from the other. Instead, if you don't know a person's exact Asian country of origin, "Asian" is the appropriate word to use.
Gonzalo (the narrator of this chapter) is referring to his great-uncle. Since Gonzalo is from Guatemala, he is probably not using "Indian" to refer to the Asian subcontinent of India. Instead, he means someone whose ancestry is native to a particular place. There is much debate about how we should refer to these peoples: Indians? American Indians? Native Americans? Indigenous? Members of these groups typically have their own preferences regarding what to call themselves. Since Gonzalo is talking about his own family, he is using the word he is most comfortable with.
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Native_American_name_controversy
Sam (the narrator of this chapter) studies words as a hobby, so his use of "coolie" seems particularly unexpected.
According to Merriam-Webster online, the term "coolie" is "usually offensive".
Source: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/coolie
Sam is probably using the word "coolie" to mean "unskilled laborer". However, in America, the word has derogatory connotations stemming from the xenophobic treatment of Chinese immigrants during the mid-to-late 1800s. It's probably best not to use this word casually, except in historical context, especially when speaking about a group that includes Asians.
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coolie
See the Politico source above related to "Negro". Using "black" as a noun is a subject of debate. The same could probably be said for using "white" as a noun. Saying "black people" and "white people" would be less controversial.
Though other narrators are also immigrants, this is the only chapter written in poor English. It feels like the literary equivalent of the on-screen Asian character having an accent. This kind of representation perpetuates the "other-ing" of Asians in America.
This is an example of explicit racism. Young readers should understand this type of behavior is not acceptable. Some may need an explanation of "Massa".
Not race-related, but the implication that people who receive welfare checks are lazy is troubling. This type of classism might also be worth discussing with young readers.
According to Merriam-Webster online, the term "Oriental" is "dated, now usually offensive".
Source: https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/oriental
As with the use of "Negro", Florence (the narrator of this chapter) is an elderly person who might be accustomed to using the terms she grew up with. She probably does not mean to refer to Asians in a belittling way, but if she said it out loud, an Asian person might be offended.
Wednesday, December 5, 2018
Refugee by Alan Gratz
★★★★½
An important book and something of an introduction to readers of all ages who want to learn more about refugees.
Mahmoud is a 12-year-old boy in Aleppo, Syria in 2015. His family is fleeing civil war and heads for Germany.
Josef is a 13-year-old boy in Berlin, Germany in 1938. His family is fleeing Nazi persecution and heads for Cuba.
Isabel is an 11-year-old girl in Havana, Cuba in 1994. Her family is fleeing starvation and civil rights abuses and heads for America.
Some people think trigger warnings are getting overused, but I can see how it might be helpful in a case like this. The book very quickly delves into matter-of-fact descriptions of the Nazi's inhumane treatment of Jews, the horror of having your home destroyed by a missile, and the hopelessness of living in fear of your own government and not having enough food. As you might expect in refugee stories, a number of difficult topics arise, for example, death, suicide, mental illness (PTSD), children taking on adult roles, and loss in many forms. I think the book's content might be better suited for middle schoolers, but if your upper elementary student wants to read it, at least be sure to discuss the book with them before, during, and/or after their reading.
I gave the book just shy of 5 stars because I wasn't sure what to make of it at first. In the beginning, there seemed to be a lot more "telling" rather than "showing", and everything felt melodramatic, like the book was written with the express purpose of manipulating your emotions. Of course, the subject matter is emotional, and the book eventually gave way to more natural storytelling, even if plenty of chapters ended in cliffhangers. Some reviewers seem to dislike the way the three stories are broken up and interspersed with each other, but I wonder if that strategy actually helps young readers to break up the intensity, so they can process each event individually and not get too overwhelmed by each main character's plight.
I was impressed by the wide range of ideas this book managed to incorporate. It provides an overall picture of how political conflicts can turn ordinary people into refugees, and how these tragedies happen all over the world and throughout human history. It's thought-provoking to consider how Germany was the place from which refugees fled in 1938, but then became the place that welcomed and assisted refugees in 2015; similarly, how Cuba was in a position to receive refugees in 1938, but then became a country of origin for refugees in 1994. We see incidences in which refugees take on an "each man for himself" mindset in order to ensure their own survival, and other scenarios when refugees support and assist each other as people sharing a common struggle. We see people in positions of power who separate themselves from the humanity of the situation by reminding themselves and others that they are "just doing their job." We encounter onlookers who turn their noses up at the "dirty refugees", locals who take advantage of the refugees' desperation to make their own money, and also people who go out of their way to provide water and food and assistance.
I found especially interesting the section at the end of the book that describes the historical facts related to each of the stories and explains how some characters were based on real people.
An important book and something of an introduction to readers of all ages who want to learn more about refugees.
Mahmoud is a 12-year-old boy in Aleppo, Syria in 2015. His family is fleeing civil war and heads for Germany.
Josef is a 13-year-old boy in Berlin, Germany in 1938. His family is fleeing Nazi persecution and heads for Cuba.
Isabel is an 11-year-old girl in Havana, Cuba in 1994. Her family is fleeing starvation and civil rights abuses and heads for America.
Some people think trigger warnings are getting overused, but I can see how it might be helpful in a case like this. The book very quickly delves into matter-of-fact descriptions of the Nazi's inhumane treatment of Jews, the horror of having your home destroyed by a missile, and the hopelessness of living in fear of your own government and not having enough food. As you might expect in refugee stories, a number of difficult topics arise, for example, death, suicide, mental illness (PTSD), children taking on adult roles, and loss in many forms. I think the book's content might be better suited for middle schoolers, but if your upper elementary student wants to read it, at least be sure to discuss the book with them before, during, and/or after their reading.
I gave the book just shy of 5 stars because I wasn't sure what to make of it at first. In the beginning, there seemed to be a lot more "telling" rather than "showing", and everything felt melodramatic, like the book was written with the express purpose of manipulating your emotions. Of course, the subject matter is emotional, and the book eventually gave way to more natural storytelling, even if plenty of chapters ended in cliffhangers. Some reviewers seem to dislike the way the three stories are broken up and interspersed with each other, but I wonder if that strategy actually helps young readers to break up the intensity, so they can process each event individually and not get too overwhelmed by each main character's plight.
I was impressed by the wide range of ideas this book managed to incorporate. It provides an overall picture of how political conflicts can turn ordinary people into refugees, and how these tragedies happen all over the world and throughout human history. It's thought-provoking to consider how Germany was the place from which refugees fled in 1938, but then became the place that welcomed and assisted refugees in 2015; similarly, how Cuba was in a position to receive refugees in 1938, but then became a country of origin for refugees in 1994. We see incidences in which refugees take on an "each man for himself" mindset in order to ensure their own survival, and other scenarios when refugees support and assist each other as people sharing a common struggle. We see people in positions of power who separate themselves from the humanity of the situation by reminding themselves and others that they are "just doing their job." We encounter onlookers who turn their noses up at the "dirty refugees", locals who take advantage of the refugees' desperation to make their own money, and also people who go out of their way to provide water and food and assistance.
I found especially interesting the section at the end of the book that describes the historical facts related to each of the stories and explains how some characters were based on real people.
Labels:
book,
book: 4-and-a-half stars,
children,
multicultural
Wednesday, November 21, 2018
A Wrinkle in Time (Time #1) by Madeleine L'Engle
★★★
I first read this book for school in 4th grade, and mostly I remember not understanding it. Literally the only thing I remembered about the book is the scene when the children first arrive on Camazotz, and everyone is behaving in unison. Reading this book now essentially felt like I was reading it for the first time.
I have to admit, I am not generally a reader of sci-fi, so a book about space and time travel wouldn't normally interest me. But with this book being in the media so much because of the new movie, and everyone heaping praise on the book, I figured I should give it a chance.
I was struck by how dated the writing was - the book was first published in 1962 - and I wonder if children reading the book today notice it? The way Meg calls her parents "Mother" and "Father", and Calvin using phrases like "golly day". I found it endearing in a charmingly nostalgic way.
I really liked Meg. With all her faults and emotions, she was a really authentic character to me. I liked Calvin, too, even though it seemed so random that he just showed up.
It wasn't until almost the very end of the book, when the travelers landed on the planet Ixchel, that I finally got roped in. I liked the beasts on that planet, and I wanted to see how the book would end. The actual events turned out to be anticlimactic, but it was satisfying to finally realize what the book was about: the power of love (reminiscent of Harry Potter, until I remembered that this book came first) and how the essence of people and things - what they mean to you - is more important than visible, physical characteristics. Also, I liked Meg's evolution from being completely dependent on others to being empowered to do what was required, despite being scared and unsure.
Interestingly, there were Christian references strewn throughout, and it seemed to me that the power of good in the universe was meant to come from a Lord that was constant through all the worlds and galaxies. This was somewhat surprising because while other series like The Chronicles of Narnia and The Golden Compass are known for their religious and anti-religious themes, respectively, I hadn't heard about the religious nature of this book at all! It actually made for an intriguing combination, the scientific and mathematically-oriented minds of Mr. and Mrs. Murry and Meg, and the faith and love of a Christian God powering the goodness of the universe.
I first read this book for school in 4th grade, and mostly I remember not understanding it. Literally the only thing I remembered about the book is the scene when the children first arrive on Camazotz, and everyone is behaving in unison. Reading this book now essentially felt like I was reading it for the first time.
I have to admit, I am not generally a reader of sci-fi, so a book about space and time travel wouldn't normally interest me. But with this book being in the media so much because of the new movie, and everyone heaping praise on the book, I figured I should give it a chance.
I was struck by how dated the writing was - the book was first published in 1962 - and I wonder if children reading the book today notice it? The way Meg calls her parents "Mother" and "Father", and Calvin using phrases like "golly day". I found it endearing in a charmingly nostalgic way.
I really liked Meg. With all her faults and emotions, she was a really authentic character to me. I liked Calvin, too, even though it seemed so random that he just showed up.
It wasn't until almost the very end of the book, when the travelers landed on the planet Ixchel, that I finally got roped in. I liked the beasts on that planet, and I wanted to see how the book would end. The actual events turned out to be anticlimactic, but it was satisfying to finally realize what the book was about: the power of love (reminiscent of Harry Potter, until I remembered that this book came first) and how the essence of people and things - what they mean to you - is more important than visible, physical characteristics. Also, I liked Meg's evolution from being completely dependent on others to being empowered to do what was required, despite being scared and unsure.
Interestingly, there were Christian references strewn throughout, and it seemed to me that the power of good in the universe was meant to come from a Lord that was constant through all the worlds and galaxies. This was somewhat surprising because while other series like The Chronicles of Narnia and The Golden Compass are known for their religious and anti-religious themes, respectively, I hadn't heard about the religious nature of this book at all! It actually made for an intriguing combination, the scientific and mathematically-oriented minds of Mr. and Mrs. Murry and Meg, and the faith and love of a Christian God powering the goodness of the universe.
Saturday, November 10, 2018
A Mango-Shaped Space by Wendy Mass
★★★★
Before reading this book, I had heard of synesthesia, but only by having read an article or two. I don't know any synesthetes personally, so I can't judge for myself whether or not this book did a good job realistically portraying what it's like living with synthesthesia. According to some Goodreads reviews, however, it sounds like the author rather exaggerated the condition. While some people complained that the book gave the impression that synesthesia is a kind of disability, I can only say that by the end of the book, it seemed to me more like a really impressive super power. I left the book thinking that synesthesia must be a kind of blessing, a pretty special gift.
On the surface, the book serves as an introduction to synthesthesia, but it actually turns out to be something of a safe space for thinking about death. The book addresses the loss of family members and much-loved pets with both a gentle matter-of-factness and compassion. The main character, Mia, is remarkably self-aware and in touch with feelings of sadness. But the book overall is not heavy, in fact it's spotted with light humor, mostly stemming from Mia's young teen perspective or the actions of her quirky siblings. (I really enjoyed her brother Zack, even though he was only a minor supporting character.)
One thing that didn't sit right with me, though, was how Mia explored her synthesthesia without her parents' knowledge. First, she seemed to be greatly affected by the acupuncture, and probably could have benefited from having close support throughout the experience. Second, it just didn't seem right that an adult would take a 13-year-old to an acupuncturist without first touching base with the child's parents, or that an accupuncturist would accept a minor as a patient without parental consent.
Also, there was a bit about how Mia felt compelled to "cheat" on a math quiz by using her synesthesia to her advantage. I would have liked to see this story arc play out a bit more, especially since the potential was there when Mia started meeting with a math tutor. I don't know if synesthesia is recognized as a type of neurodiversity for which accommodations in school are allowed, but it seemed to me like the type of "cheating" Mia implemented was more along the lines of a technique she could use to help manage her colors in the context of math.
Besides dealing with synesthesia and grief, the book offers up a typical slice of middle school life as Mia also has to navigate friends, school work, and boys. A good read for any middle schooler, but especially for those coping with loss.
Before reading this book, I had heard of synesthesia, but only by having read an article or two. I don't know any synesthetes personally, so I can't judge for myself whether or not this book did a good job realistically portraying what it's like living with synthesthesia. According to some Goodreads reviews, however, it sounds like the author rather exaggerated the condition. While some people complained that the book gave the impression that synesthesia is a kind of disability, I can only say that by the end of the book, it seemed to me more like a really impressive super power. I left the book thinking that synesthesia must be a kind of blessing, a pretty special gift.
On the surface, the book serves as an introduction to synthesthesia, but it actually turns out to be something of a safe space for thinking about death. The book addresses the loss of family members and much-loved pets with both a gentle matter-of-factness and compassion. The main character, Mia, is remarkably self-aware and in touch with feelings of sadness. But the book overall is not heavy, in fact it's spotted with light humor, mostly stemming from Mia's young teen perspective or the actions of her quirky siblings. (I really enjoyed her brother Zack, even though he was only a minor supporting character.)
One thing that didn't sit right with me, though, was how Mia explored her synthesthesia without her parents' knowledge. First, she seemed to be greatly affected by the acupuncture, and probably could have benefited from having close support throughout the experience. Second, it just didn't seem right that an adult would take a 13-year-old to an acupuncturist without first touching base with the child's parents, or that an accupuncturist would accept a minor as a patient without parental consent.
Also, there was a bit about how Mia felt compelled to "cheat" on a math quiz by using her synesthesia to her advantage. I would have liked to see this story arc play out a bit more, especially since the potential was there when Mia started meeting with a math tutor. I don't know if synesthesia is recognized as a type of neurodiversity for which accommodations in school are allowed, but it seemed to me like the type of "cheating" Mia implemented was more along the lines of a technique she could use to help manage her colors in the context of math.
Besides dealing with synesthesia and grief, the book offers up a typical slice of middle school life as Mia also has to navigate friends, school work, and boys. A good read for any middle schooler, but especially for those coping with loss.
Sunday, November 4, 2018
An American Family: A Memoir of Hope and Sacrifice by Khizr Khan
★★★★★
I am usually a notoriously slow reader, so it's noteworthy that I read this book in a mere 3 days.
I followed the 2016 presidential campaign closely, and I remember seeing Khizr and Ghazala Khan at the Democratic National Convention. Their presence was unassuming, but Mr. Khan's speech was electrifying. (The book ends with the telling of how he came to be a speaker at that convention.)
Mr. Khan is eloquent and thoughtful. His personal journey to America is a testament to American ideals. I actually felt like it was a privilege to have been given this opportunity to read about his life, and that Mr. Khan was gracious in his openness in sharing not only his personal story, but also his son, with the world. I was moved by his integrity, gratitude, and sense of duty.
Mr. Khan is the eldest of 10 children born to farmers in Pakistan. His path to becoming a Harvard-educated lawyer in America is unique and remarkable, but not unusual among immigrant stories. In reading this book, I was on the one hand completely in awe, marveling at his tenacity and resourcefulness. Yet, on the other hand, I know there are millions of other immigrant stories that are equally compelling and inspiring. This book is a much-needed window into the experiences of one immigrant, and, in my opinion, also goes to show just how much we need even more books to be eye-opening accounts of other immigrant experiences.
Mr. Kahn values education and family above all else, but the guiding principle by which he lives is his steadfast belief in the equal dignity of all people. He doesn't just talk the talk; he walks the walk, and he taught his sons to do the same.
I adored his recounting of how he met and courted his wife Ghazala, especially his observation in hindsight that the rules of propriety at the time that prohibited any political conversations early in their relationship very likely helped their relationship to develop.
Once they got to America, I was surprised at the complete lack of discrimination they experienced. I admit, I wondered if maybe Mr. Kahn was so smitten with America that he didn't recognize racism when it happened, or maybe even that his love for America was so genuine and earnest that it endeared him to everyone he met. Or who knows, maybe Houston in the 1980s was actually just a really tolerant place!
Throughout the book, Mr. Khan repeatedly returns to his favorite principles as outlined in the Constitution. He is especially fond of the 14th Amendment, which was particularly poignant to read at this time when the 14th Amendment is under attack.
I am usually a notoriously slow reader, so it's noteworthy that I read this book in a mere 3 days.
I followed the 2016 presidential campaign closely, and I remember seeing Khizr and Ghazala Khan at the Democratic National Convention. Their presence was unassuming, but Mr. Khan's speech was electrifying. (The book ends with the telling of how he came to be a speaker at that convention.)
Mr. Khan is eloquent and thoughtful. His personal journey to America is a testament to American ideals. I actually felt like it was a privilege to have been given this opportunity to read about his life, and that Mr. Khan was gracious in his openness in sharing not only his personal story, but also his son, with the world. I was moved by his integrity, gratitude, and sense of duty.
Mr. Khan is the eldest of 10 children born to farmers in Pakistan. His path to becoming a Harvard-educated lawyer in America is unique and remarkable, but not unusual among immigrant stories. In reading this book, I was on the one hand completely in awe, marveling at his tenacity and resourcefulness. Yet, on the other hand, I know there are millions of other immigrant stories that are equally compelling and inspiring. This book is a much-needed window into the experiences of one immigrant, and, in my opinion, also goes to show just how much we need even more books to be eye-opening accounts of other immigrant experiences.
Mr. Kahn values education and family above all else, but the guiding principle by which he lives is his steadfast belief in the equal dignity of all people. He doesn't just talk the talk; he walks the walk, and he taught his sons to do the same.
I adored his recounting of how he met and courted his wife Ghazala, especially his observation in hindsight that the rules of propriety at the time that prohibited any political conversations early in their relationship very likely helped their relationship to develop.
Once they got to America, I was surprised at the complete lack of discrimination they experienced. I admit, I wondered if maybe Mr. Kahn was so smitten with America that he didn't recognize racism when it happened, or maybe even that his love for America was so genuine and earnest that it endeared him to everyone he met. Or who knows, maybe Houston in the 1980s was actually just a really tolerant place!
Throughout the book, Mr. Khan repeatedly returns to his favorite principles as outlined in the Constitution. He is especially fond of the 14th Amendment, which was particularly poignant to read at this time when the 14th Amendment is under attack.
Thursday, November 1, 2018
How To American: An Immigrant's Guide to Disappointing Your Parents by Jimmy O. Yang
★★★½
This book was a fun read, and funny, too!
First off, like Fresh Off the Boat, this book might not be for everyone. Jimmy - usually I refer to authors by their last name, but somehow, "Jimmy" just fits; plus, I can't bring myself to call him "Yang" when I know his proper last name is "Ouyang". Anyway, maybe it's part of his comedy shtick, but he frequently idolized the "gangster rapper" lifestyle, including the objectification of women. The book includes swearing, drugs, and a whole chapter about how he worked as a strip club DJ.
I most enjoyed this book's beginning and end. The first couple chapters were devoted to Jimmy's typical immigrant experiences. As a child of Chinese immigrants myself, I could easily relate to much of his story. The last couple chapters described how Jimmy navigated Hollywood as an Asian-American, and how his roles - especially the time he spent filming Crazy Rich Asians - helped him to come to terms with his Asian-American identity. The struggle is real, and having books that explore and validate my own experiences really does make me feel empowered and visible.
In the middle, we follow Jimmy's less-than-glamorous ascent to stardom. Even while in seemingly rock-bottom type situations, he describes each episode of his life with such matter-of-factness, humor, and optimism that the book never feels too heavy. Most times I felt like I was just along for an entertaining ride.
Now, I'm a big fan of formal education - like if you want to be an actor, you can still go to college and get an acting-related degree. But Jimmy is a walking example of how a person with enough spunk, passion, and, yes, you have to have talent, too, really can approach life as one big educational opportunity with lessons to learn in every experience.
This book was a fun read, and funny, too!
First off, like Fresh Off the Boat, this book might not be for everyone. Jimmy - usually I refer to authors by their last name, but somehow, "Jimmy" just fits; plus, I can't bring myself to call him "Yang" when I know his proper last name is "Ouyang". Anyway, maybe it's part of his comedy shtick, but he frequently idolized the "gangster rapper" lifestyle, including the objectification of women. The book includes swearing, drugs, and a whole chapter about how he worked as a strip club DJ.
I most enjoyed this book's beginning and end. The first couple chapters were devoted to Jimmy's typical immigrant experiences. As a child of Chinese immigrants myself, I could easily relate to much of his story. The last couple chapters described how Jimmy navigated Hollywood as an Asian-American, and how his roles - especially the time he spent filming Crazy Rich Asians - helped him to come to terms with his Asian-American identity. The struggle is real, and having books that explore and validate my own experiences really does make me feel empowered and visible.
In the middle, we follow Jimmy's less-than-glamorous ascent to stardom. Even while in seemingly rock-bottom type situations, he describes each episode of his life with such matter-of-factness, humor, and optimism that the book never feels too heavy. Most times I felt like I was just along for an entertaining ride.
Now, I'm a big fan of formal education - like if you want to be an actor, you can still go to college and get an acting-related degree. But Jimmy is a walking example of how a person with enough spunk, passion, and, yes, you have to have talent, too, really can approach life as one big educational opportunity with lessons to learn in every experience.
Labels:
book,
book: 3-and-a-half stars,
multicultural,
non-fiction
Monday, October 22, 2018
Fresh Off the Boat by Eddie Huang
★★★★★
I am the straightest arrow you'll ever meet - I'm a downright prude when it comes to sex, drugs, and violence - so I purposely put off reading this book for years. I knew that Eddie Huang, and this book, had a reputation of being crass, brassy, and overdone, but as a child of immigrants from Taiwan, someone who loves Chinese/Taiwanese food and is a big fan of the Fresh Off the Boat TV show, I've kept this book on my to-read list, and I finally got around to reading it.
This book definitely is not for everyone. Making my way through early chapters, I fully expected to rate the book no higher than 3 stars. Huang uses the slur "Chinaman" the way black people have reclaimed the n-word, except it's not really a thing in the wider Chinese community, so it's jarring. The narrative includes plenty of profanity, makes obscure (to me) references to hip-hop and sports culture, and employs so much slang that I sometimes actually did not understand what Huang was trying to say. Luckily, I do have a working knowledge of basketball, so I could follow lines like, "[Mom's] still the best cook in the family...even the aunts admit my mom goes hard in the paint," (pg. 5) and, "I was into glasses, especially goggles, because Kareem wore them and he had the ill sky hook." (pg. 6)
I knew that Huang had walked away from the TV show because he didn't feel the show accurately represented his family, but I did not know just how much his family was sanitized for American TV audiences. I think the show presents an Asian-American family that is exactly what Americans are willing to accept at this time, but I also believe that Huang's actual origin story is profound in the way it shines a light on the struggles of immigrant families and the diversity of experiences that exist within a group perceived as homogeneous.
What really struck me about Huang's autobiography is how I could simultaneously identify so strongly with some of his experiences - being called "chink", eating at a white friend's house for the first time and encountering new-to-him American foods, feeling a kinship with Chinese/Taiwanese culture by knowing and appreciating the food - but then be so completely taken aback by some of his life choices. On the one hand, he hated the model minority stereotype, yet he participated just enough to show that, "I didn't want to play their stupid Asian Olympics, but I wanted to prove to myself that if I did want to be the stereotypical Chinaman they wanted, I could." (pg. 189) He took honors classes, attended academic summer camps, went to the "Love Boat" study tour in Taiwan, and even became a lawyer, but then he also did drugs, sold drugs, got into fights, and got arrested for assault! I appreciate that this book absolutely took me out of my comfort zone and challenged my own notions of what it means to be Asian-American.
Ultimately, I think this book is about Huang's struggle with identity, his constant efforts to not be defined as others see him and to figure out not only what it means to be true to himself, but also what it means to be an American while also being Asian-American. Huang wrote this book when he was just 30 years old, so it lacks the kind of gravitas you might expect from memoirs in general; it's clear that life to him is about living and learning, and he's just getting started. I recommend this book to anyone interested in exploring race and better understanding the experiences of immigrant families. It's definitely best approached with an open mind free of preconceived notions.
I am the straightest arrow you'll ever meet - I'm a downright prude when it comes to sex, drugs, and violence - so I purposely put off reading this book for years. I knew that Eddie Huang, and this book, had a reputation of being crass, brassy, and overdone, but as a child of immigrants from Taiwan, someone who loves Chinese/Taiwanese food and is a big fan of the Fresh Off the Boat TV show, I've kept this book on my to-read list, and I finally got around to reading it.
This book definitely is not for everyone. Making my way through early chapters, I fully expected to rate the book no higher than 3 stars. Huang uses the slur "Chinaman" the way black people have reclaimed the n-word, except it's not really a thing in the wider Chinese community, so it's jarring. The narrative includes plenty of profanity, makes obscure (to me) references to hip-hop and sports culture, and employs so much slang that I sometimes actually did not understand what Huang was trying to say. Luckily, I do have a working knowledge of basketball, so I could follow lines like, "[Mom's] still the best cook in the family...even the aunts admit my mom goes hard in the paint," (pg. 5) and, "I was into glasses, especially goggles, because Kareem wore them and he had the ill sky hook." (pg. 6)
I knew that Huang had walked away from the TV show because he didn't feel the show accurately represented his family, but I did not know just how much his family was sanitized for American TV audiences. I think the show presents an Asian-American family that is exactly what Americans are willing to accept at this time, but I also believe that Huang's actual origin story is profound in the way it shines a light on the struggles of immigrant families and the diversity of experiences that exist within a group perceived as homogeneous.
What really struck me about Huang's autobiography is how I could simultaneously identify so strongly with some of his experiences - being called "chink", eating at a white friend's house for the first time and encountering new-to-him American foods, feeling a kinship with Chinese/Taiwanese culture by knowing and appreciating the food - but then be so completely taken aback by some of his life choices. On the one hand, he hated the model minority stereotype, yet he participated just enough to show that, "I didn't want to play their stupid Asian Olympics, but I wanted to prove to myself that if I did want to be the stereotypical Chinaman they wanted, I could." (pg. 189) He took honors classes, attended academic summer camps, went to the "Love Boat" study tour in Taiwan, and even became a lawyer, but then he also did drugs, sold drugs, got into fights, and got arrested for assault! I appreciate that this book absolutely took me out of my comfort zone and challenged my own notions of what it means to be Asian-American.
Ultimately, I think this book is about Huang's struggle with identity, his constant efforts to not be defined as others see him and to figure out not only what it means to be true to himself, but also what it means to be an American while also being Asian-American. Huang wrote this book when he was just 30 years old, so it lacks the kind of gravitas you might expect from memoirs in general; it's clear that life to him is about living and learning, and he's just getting started. I recommend this book to anyone interested in exploring race and better understanding the experiences of immigrant families. It's definitely best approached with an open mind free of preconceived notions.
Monday, October 8, 2018
All American Boys by Jason Reynolds and Brendan Kiely
★★★★★
Quinn is a white teenaged boy who plays on the school's competitive basketball team. Rashad is a black teenaged boy who is a junior ROTC cadet, and whose best friends play on the same basketball team as Quinn. Chapters alternate between first-person narratives by Quinn and Rashad, and - unlike some other books that use this same storytelling method - the voices of the boys are distinct enough so you could probably figure out who is narrating without having to read the chapter title, thanks to Rashad's chapters being written by Jason Reynolds (a black author), and Quinn's chapters being written by Brendan Kiely (a white author).
One Friday night, as both boys have the same plans to go to a classmate's party, Rashad is racially profiled inside a corner store and becomes a victim of police brutality perpetrated by a white officer. Quinn witnesses the beating and, to his horror, recognizes the officer as his best friend's older brother Paul, a man who, in many ways, was a surrogate father figure to him after his own father died in Afghanistan. The book starts just before the incident, and spans the following week.
Having read this book on the heels of The Hate U Give, it's easy to compare the two and find similarities, though each does offer something different. The Hate U Give is written entirely from the perspective of a black girl who is the sole witness to a fatal shooting. She watches as her friend's name becomes a hashtag, and struggles as public attention turns to her as the only person who can testify about the shooting. All American Boys, on the other hand, offers the perspective of a black boy who survives a non-fatal attack and sees his own name become a hashtag. It also provides the viewpoint of a white boy who grapples with trying to make sense of what he saw, what it means about the world around him and who he is as a person. Since the incident was caught on video by other bystanders, his testimony probably isn't important to the investigation, but he still needs to make some hard choices to come to terms with what happened.
Rashad's story is compelling, and I imagine it would be especially so if you aren't already a supporter of Black Lives Matter. If you are, I expect you'll find your commitment to the movement reaffirmed, as I did.
For myself, I found Quinn's story to be more eye-opening and thought-provoking. I have to admit, as a liberal person of color who lives in a blue state, I frequently wonder, with no small amount of frustration, why more white people aren't more woke. Why can't they see the racism!? Or if they admit to seeing it, why won't they speak up and fight against it? This book doesn't make excuses for white people, but it does show how it can be difficult for individual white people to take a stand when it means losing life-long friends, challenging long-held beliefs, and actually risking opportunities for a better future (e.g., Quinn taking a stand could affect his place on the basketball team, which would affect his chances of earning a college scholarship). The stakes can be high. Given Quinn's previous relationship with Paul, we see how painful Quinn's position is; how is it that someone who he knew to be so generous and so good to him could actually be capable of such a frightening and unthinkable act? Through Quinn's struggle, we see how for many people, life would be so much easier if they just refuted the evidence and ignored the racism.
As might be expected in a book rated for teens, the boys' authentic teenaged dialogue does include swearing.
Quinn is a white teenaged boy who plays on the school's competitive basketball team. Rashad is a black teenaged boy who is a junior ROTC cadet, and whose best friends play on the same basketball team as Quinn. Chapters alternate between first-person narratives by Quinn and Rashad, and - unlike some other books that use this same storytelling method - the voices of the boys are distinct enough so you could probably figure out who is narrating without having to read the chapter title, thanks to Rashad's chapters being written by Jason Reynolds (a black author), and Quinn's chapters being written by Brendan Kiely (a white author).
One Friday night, as both boys have the same plans to go to a classmate's party, Rashad is racially profiled inside a corner store and becomes a victim of police brutality perpetrated by a white officer. Quinn witnesses the beating and, to his horror, recognizes the officer as his best friend's older brother Paul, a man who, in many ways, was a surrogate father figure to him after his own father died in Afghanistan. The book starts just before the incident, and spans the following week.
Having read this book on the heels of The Hate U Give, it's easy to compare the two and find similarities, though each does offer something different. The Hate U Give is written entirely from the perspective of a black girl who is the sole witness to a fatal shooting. She watches as her friend's name becomes a hashtag, and struggles as public attention turns to her as the only person who can testify about the shooting. All American Boys, on the other hand, offers the perspective of a black boy who survives a non-fatal attack and sees his own name become a hashtag. It also provides the viewpoint of a white boy who grapples with trying to make sense of what he saw, what it means about the world around him and who he is as a person. Since the incident was caught on video by other bystanders, his testimony probably isn't important to the investigation, but he still needs to make some hard choices to come to terms with what happened.
Rashad's story is compelling, and I imagine it would be especially so if you aren't already a supporter of Black Lives Matter. If you are, I expect you'll find your commitment to the movement reaffirmed, as I did.
For myself, I found Quinn's story to be more eye-opening and thought-provoking. I have to admit, as a liberal person of color who lives in a blue state, I frequently wonder, with no small amount of frustration, why more white people aren't more woke. Why can't they see the racism!? Or if they admit to seeing it, why won't they speak up and fight against it? This book doesn't make excuses for white people, but it does show how it can be difficult for individual white people to take a stand when it means losing life-long friends, challenging long-held beliefs, and actually risking opportunities for a better future (e.g., Quinn taking a stand could affect his place on the basketball team, which would affect his chances of earning a college scholarship). The stakes can be high. Given Quinn's previous relationship with Paul, we see how painful Quinn's position is; how is it that someone who he knew to be so generous and so good to him could actually be capable of such a frightening and unthinkable act? Through Quinn's struggle, we see how for many people, life would be so much easier if they just refuted the evidence and ignored the racism.
As might be expected in a book rated for teens, the boys' authentic teenaged dialogue does include swearing.
Thursday, October 4, 2018
Love, Hate & Other Filters by Samira Ahmed
★★★
Maya is an Indian-Muslim-American high school senior. I think the book is well-summarized by this excerpt: "My parents' fears shrink my universe to the four walls of this house. The world outside paints us all as terrorists... And all I want is to make movies and kiss a boy." (p. 220) The book was an interesting combination of teen romance, multicultural identity searching, and spotlight on racism.
The first half of the book reads like a romantic comedy. Perpetually-blushing Maya unexpectedly finds herself in a love triangle, torn between Phil, who is white, beautiful, and captain of the football team, and Kareem, an Indian-Muslim-American student at Princeton. People who enjoy these Team Phil vs. Team Kareem type stories would probably find a lot to like in this book, but alas, I am not generally a fan. (Though that didn't stop me from picking Team Kareem.)
As an aspiring filmmaker, Maya dots her narrative and dialogue with film-related terminology and references to movies. At times, it's an effective tool for breaking the awkwardness in a scene or lightening the tension.
There were things I really loved about this book. Mostly, I enjoyed the writing, which was full of colorful metaphors. In reference to the conservatism of her immigrant community, Maya's first-person narrative observes, "some taboos cross oceans, packed tightly into the corners of immigrant baggage, tucked away with packets of masala and memories of home." (p. 9)
I was a little concerned that Maya's parents were too much of a stereotype of conservative immigrant Indian parents, but those worries were mitigated by the existence of Maya's cool aunt Hina, who served as a counter-example.
Admittedly, I felt misled by the quotes of praise from other authors (printed on the back cover) which referred to Maya as a Muslim and completely omitted her Indian identity. For pretty much the first half of the book, most of the diversity portrayed was that of her being Indian. There was a lot of Indian food, Indian clothes, and Indian culture strewn throughout. The fact that she and her family were also Muslim was mostly limited to statements of that fact and joking mentions of not eating pork. We didn't really see how being Muslim affected her day-to-day life.
It wasn't until about halfway through the book that Maya's Muslim-ness came into focus, in the wake of a terrorist attack. This is when the book finally started to get interesting, in my opinion, as Maya navigated her school with all eyes on her.
I appreciated the way the events surrounding the terrorist attack unfolded, alternating between snapshots of the perpetrator and the victims. However, I was bothered by a few passages that seemed contrived to elicit sympathy for the perpetrator. He was given a background story that some might interpret as excusing his actions; he was abused as a child, "troubled" and misunderstood as a teenager. I would have much preferred passages that instead or additionally showed how he might have fallen down a rabbit hole of hate and poor decisions.
I also was not too keen on one scene that I'm sure many readers would probably enjoy from a romance standpoint. Without giving too much away, there's a moment when Phil comes to Maya's rescue, and as romantic as that is, it just crept too much into "white savior" territory for me.
Overall, I think the book could have been better paced. The pure romance first half of the book could have been condensed, and the aftermath of the terrorist attacks could have been extended. Moreover, I felt the book ended much too abruptly after Maya took a stand for her future. There were just so many unanswered questions I had for the time that was glossed over by the epilogue, particularly in regards to Maya's relationship with her parents. So much conflict, so much tension, how did she and her parents deal with it?!
As is typical of multicultural books, foreign words are occasionally interspersed. I felt like I could understand non-English words from context, though I wasn't sure if specific words were Urdu or Hindi.
Finally, this book does include swearing and references to sex, not uncommon for a book rated for teens.
Maya is an Indian-Muslim-American high school senior. I think the book is well-summarized by this excerpt: "My parents' fears shrink my universe to the four walls of this house. The world outside paints us all as terrorists... And all I want is to make movies and kiss a boy." (p. 220) The book was an interesting combination of teen romance, multicultural identity searching, and spotlight on racism.
The first half of the book reads like a romantic comedy. Perpetually-blushing Maya unexpectedly finds herself in a love triangle, torn between Phil, who is white, beautiful, and captain of the football team, and Kareem, an Indian-Muslim-American student at Princeton. People who enjoy these Team Phil vs. Team Kareem type stories would probably find a lot to like in this book, but alas, I am not generally a fan. (Though that didn't stop me from picking Team Kareem.)
As an aspiring filmmaker, Maya dots her narrative and dialogue with film-related terminology and references to movies. At times, it's an effective tool for breaking the awkwardness in a scene or lightening the tension.
There were things I really loved about this book. Mostly, I enjoyed the writing, which was full of colorful metaphors. In reference to the conservatism of her immigrant community, Maya's first-person narrative observes, "some taboos cross oceans, packed tightly into the corners of immigrant baggage, tucked away with packets of masala and memories of home." (p. 9)
I was a little concerned that Maya's parents were too much of a stereotype of conservative immigrant Indian parents, but those worries were mitigated by the existence of Maya's cool aunt Hina, who served as a counter-example.
Admittedly, I felt misled by the quotes of praise from other authors (printed on the back cover) which referred to Maya as a Muslim and completely omitted her Indian identity. For pretty much the first half of the book, most of the diversity portrayed was that of her being Indian. There was a lot of Indian food, Indian clothes, and Indian culture strewn throughout. The fact that she and her family were also Muslim was mostly limited to statements of that fact and joking mentions of not eating pork. We didn't really see how being Muslim affected her day-to-day life.
It wasn't until about halfway through the book that Maya's Muslim-ness came into focus, in the wake of a terrorist attack. This is when the book finally started to get interesting, in my opinion, as Maya navigated her school with all eyes on her.
I appreciated the way the events surrounding the terrorist attack unfolded, alternating between snapshots of the perpetrator and the victims. However, I was bothered by a few passages that seemed contrived to elicit sympathy for the perpetrator. He was given a background story that some might interpret as excusing his actions; he was abused as a child, "troubled" and misunderstood as a teenager. I would have much preferred passages that instead or additionally showed how he might have fallen down a rabbit hole of hate and poor decisions.
I also was not too keen on one scene that I'm sure many readers would probably enjoy from a romance standpoint. Without giving too much away, there's a moment when Phil comes to Maya's rescue, and as romantic as that is, it just crept too much into "white savior" territory for me.
Overall, I think the book could have been better paced. The pure romance first half of the book could have been condensed, and the aftermath of the terrorist attacks could have been extended. Moreover, I felt the book ended much too abruptly after Maya took a stand for her future. There were just so many unanswered questions I had for the time that was glossed over by the epilogue, particularly in regards to Maya's relationship with her parents. So much conflict, so much tension, how did she and her parents deal with it?!
As is typical of multicultural books, foreign words are occasionally interspersed. I felt like I could understand non-English words from context, though I wasn't sure if specific words were Urdu or Hindi.
Finally, this book does include swearing and references to sex, not uncommon for a book rated for teens.
Monday, September 24, 2018
The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
★★★★★
A powerful book that depicts the very real and personal stories that are likely behind every white-officer-kills-unarmed-black-person tragedy we hear about in the news.
I hope this book might be especially compelling for those who are sure they aren't racist, yet they can't quite bring themselves to fully support Black Lives Matter; maybe this book can give them a little more insight to help them better understand the movement. I think those who do support Black Lives Matter, and already follow black activists on Facebook or Twitter, will have their beliefs reaffirmed. And for those who live in the "Garden Heights" of America, I don't know how this book is being received, but I hope they feel they are understood, and that this book does them justice.
For all the ways this book is relevant to current events, I think it was smart to not actually reference "Black Lives Matter", which is a politically charged phrase. Instead, the author does a remarkable job just showing how every life really does having meaning, even in the "hood", and even when the media tries to make the victim look like a thug in an effort to justify their death.
Similarly, the book doesn't even mention "code switching", but it's clear that's what Starr is doing when she switches been "Garden Heights Starr" and "Williamson Starr".
The book touches upon a lot of different topics within racism, and we see characters who span the spectrum. There's Starr's white friend Hailey who suffers from "white fragility" (again, a phrase not actually used in the book) and believes herself to be so "beyond racism / color-blind" that she is unwilling to examine her own beliefs and actions. There's Starr's Chinese friend Maya, who is caught between Starr and Hailey, but who eventually represents the power of allyship among people of color (another phrase not actually used in the book). There's Starr's white boyfriend Chris who genuinely wants to know Starr, and their relationship goes to show that Starr isn't about hating all white people. Then there's Starr's Uncle Carlos, a good cop, who's there to let us know it's also not about hating all cops.
At times, the books is heavy-handed in its messages of social justice, but I think for a teen book, that's okay.
Above all, the book is well-written. Starr's narrative voice really sounds like a teenager's, and the swear-laden dialogue is honest and believable. The book marches forward at a good pace, and still I felt like I was frequently on the verge of tears, with a lump in my throat.
Besides a lot of cussing, the book also includes references to sex. It's definitely a "teen" book, and I think it's best read by mature readers who will think hard about racism and other questions of community, family, identity, and activism.
A powerful book that depicts the very real and personal stories that are likely behind every white-officer-kills-unarmed-black-person tragedy we hear about in the news.
I hope this book might be especially compelling for those who are sure they aren't racist, yet they can't quite bring themselves to fully support Black Lives Matter; maybe this book can give them a little more insight to help them better understand the movement. I think those who do support Black Lives Matter, and already follow black activists on Facebook or Twitter, will have their beliefs reaffirmed. And for those who live in the "Garden Heights" of America, I don't know how this book is being received, but I hope they feel they are understood, and that this book does them justice.
For all the ways this book is relevant to current events, I think it was smart to not actually reference "Black Lives Matter", which is a politically charged phrase. Instead, the author does a remarkable job just showing how every life really does having meaning, even in the "hood", and even when the media tries to make the victim look like a thug in an effort to justify their death.
Similarly, the book doesn't even mention "code switching", but it's clear that's what Starr is doing when she switches been "Garden Heights Starr" and "Williamson Starr".
The book touches upon a lot of different topics within racism, and we see characters who span the spectrum. There's Starr's white friend Hailey who suffers from "white fragility" (again, a phrase not actually used in the book) and believes herself to be so "beyond racism / color-blind" that she is unwilling to examine her own beliefs and actions. There's Starr's Chinese friend Maya, who is caught between Starr and Hailey, but who eventually represents the power of allyship among people of color (another phrase not actually used in the book). There's Starr's white boyfriend Chris who genuinely wants to know Starr, and their relationship goes to show that Starr isn't about hating all white people. Then there's Starr's Uncle Carlos, a good cop, who's there to let us know it's also not about hating all cops.
At times, the books is heavy-handed in its messages of social justice, but I think for a teen book, that's okay.
Above all, the book is well-written. Starr's narrative voice really sounds like a teenager's, and the swear-laden dialogue is honest and believable. The book marches forward at a good pace, and still I felt like I was frequently on the verge of tears, with a lump in my throat.
Besides a lot of cussing, the book also includes references to sex. It's definitely a "teen" book, and I think it's best read by mature readers who will think hard about racism and other questions of community, family, identity, and activism.
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Baseball Saved Us by Ken Mochizuki
★★½
I was excited to see a picture book about the Japanese internment. On the one hand, I am thrilled that there is a book at this level that addresses this topic, but on the other hand, the story felt disconnected, and I didn't feel it had a clear message.
The book starts with a short paragraph introducing the Japanese internment. It sets just a little bit of context, enough for young audiences.
The opening scene is from within the internment camp. At first the book is like a non-fiction presentation of Japanese internment camps. Being narrated in the first person by a Japanese-American boy, there are glimpses into the past that show how the narrator felt different and picked on in school, before being sent to the camp. Even though he's just a boy, I didn't quite like how he happened to be smaller than all his classmates, and not very good at sports, perpetuating the "emasculated Asian man" stereotype.
At one point, there is a scene in which the narrator's older brother shockingly talks back to his father. This moment is meant to be the catalyst for the creation of the baseball field, but the connection isn't explained, and the story feels disjointed.
Just as the story starts to get into how everyone in the camp is getting into baseball, it suddenly jumps to after the war. The narrator is back to playing baseball with his white teammates, and the events of a particular game parallel a dramatic game he played inside the camp. There is a climactic moment - and then the book ends. I didn't get a good sense of closure.
I did appreciate the sepia-toned illustrations. I thought the images of the barren desert, long lines outside of barracks, barbed-wire fences, and armed guards were poignant and accurate depictions of Japanese internment camps.
I also think any young baseball fan would really enjoy this book. It's perhaps less of a book about Japanese-Americans playing baseball in internment camps, and more about a Japanese-American boy who learned to play baseball while in an internment camp, which later on helped him to fit in better with his white classmates.
I was excited to see a picture book about the Japanese internment. On the one hand, I am thrilled that there is a book at this level that addresses this topic, but on the other hand, the story felt disconnected, and I didn't feel it had a clear message.
The book starts with a short paragraph introducing the Japanese internment. It sets just a little bit of context, enough for young audiences.
The opening scene is from within the internment camp. At first the book is like a non-fiction presentation of Japanese internment camps. Being narrated in the first person by a Japanese-American boy, there are glimpses into the past that show how the narrator felt different and picked on in school, before being sent to the camp. Even though he's just a boy, I didn't quite like how he happened to be smaller than all his classmates, and not very good at sports, perpetuating the "emasculated Asian man" stereotype.
At one point, there is a scene in which the narrator's older brother shockingly talks back to his father. This moment is meant to be the catalyst for the creation of the baseball field, but the connection isn't explained, and the story feels disjointed.
Just as the story starts to get into how everyone in the camp is getting into baseball, it suddenly jumps to after the war. The narrator is back to playing baseball with his white teammates, and the events of a particular game parallel a dramatic game he played inside the camp. There is a climactic moment - and then the book ends. I didn't get a good sense of closure.
I did appreciate the sepia-toned illustrations. I thought the images of the barren desert, long lines outside of barracks, barbed-wire fences, and armed guards were poignant and accurate depictions of Japanese internment camps.
I also think any young baseball fan would really enjoy this book. It's perhaps less of a book about Japanese-Americans playing baseball in internment camps, and more about a Japanese-American boy who learned to play baseball while in an internment camp, which later on helped him to fit in better with his white classmates.
Labels:
book,
book: 2-and-a-half stars,
children,
multicultural
Monday, September 17, 2018
Amal Unbound by Aisha Saeed
★★★★
In the Author's Note, the author praises Malala Yousafzai, and it seems to me that the main character Amal is a fictionalized version of Malala. Like Malala, Amal is a Pakistani girl who is passionate about school and learning. Books have a very special place in her heart. She believes girls and boys should have equal opportunities, and she is brave enough to speak out when others won't. Though Amal doesn't have Malala's platform for change, she realizes that one person can make a big difference no matter who they are, where they live, or what their station in life is.
Amal has dreams of becoming a teacher, but everything falls apart when she is forced to live as a servant in the house of the village's most ruthlessly powerful family. Initially she is being punished for acting "disrespectfully", but her situation is basically one of indentured servitude; she must work for as long as it takes her father to pay off his debts, but since the cost of her room and board are constantly being added to the debt, there is little chance of him ever being able to pay it off.
As Amal becomes accustomed to the life of a servant, she realizes first that life really is not fair, and second, life is about choices. All choices have consequences, and the challenge is being brave enough to make the right choices, even when it's hard.
I enjoyed this story, and the warm depiction of life in Pakistan. But a few things prevented me from giving it 5 stars. Generally speaking, I like children's books to wrap up nicely, but this one had a bit too much open-endedness for my liking. I'm okay with Amal's future being uncertain in a hopeful way, but I was bothered by not knowing what would become of Jawad Sahib. Also, towards the end, the driver Ghulam is the most anxious about losing his livelihood, yet we have no assurances about what would become of him. And though Omar was a great friend to Amal at the beginning of the book, we never get to see them re-connect.
I was also disappointed that Jawad Sahib and Nasreen Baji weren't more fully developed characters. I thought there would be some complexity when Jawad Sahib was presented in a softer light in his mother's presence, and also when he showed just an inkling of humanity at the knowledge that Amal could read. But in the end, he was simply evil through and through. This seemed particularly bothersome because his mother, Nasreen Baji, turned out to be so kind and decent, and with the two of them still living in the same household, it's hard to see how she could not have had more of a positive influence on her son. I kept expecting to see a glimmer of redemption in Jawad Sahib, or a streak of callousness in Nasreen Baji, to give the family more depth, but they remained one-dimensional.
In the Author's Note, the author praises Malala Yousafzai, and it seems to me that the main character Amal is a fictionalized version of Malala. Like Malala, Amal is a Pakistani girl who is passionate about school and learning. Books have a very special place in her heart. She believes girls and boys should have equal opportunities, and she is brave enough to speak out when others won't. Though Amal doesn't have Malala's platform for change, she realizes that one person can make a big difference no matter who they are, where they live, or what their station in life is.
Amal has dreams of becoming a teacher, but everything falls apart when she is forced to live as a servant in the house of the village's most ruthlessly powerful family. Initially she is being punished for acting "disrespectfully", but her situation is basically one of indentured servitude; she must work for as long as it takes her father to pay off his debts, but since the cost of her room and board are constantly being added to the debt, there is little chance of him ever being able to pay it off.
As Amal becomes accustomed to the life of a servant, she realizes first that life really is not fair, and second, life is about choices. All choices have consequences, and the challenge is being brave enough to make the right choices, even when it's hard.
I enjoyed this story, and the warm depiction of life in Pakistan. But a few things prevented me from giving it 5 stars. Generally speaking, I like children's books to wrap up nicely, but this one had a bit too much open-endedness for my liking. I'm okay with Amal's future being uncertain in a hopeful way, but I was bothered by not knowing what would become of Jawad Sahib. Also, towards the end, the driver Ghulam is the most anxious about losing his livelihood, yet we have no assurances about what would become of him. And though Omar was a great friend to Amal at the beginning of the book, we never get to see them re-connect.
I was also disappointed that Jawad Sahib and Nasreen Baji weren't more fully developed characters. I thought there would be some complexity when Jawad Sahib was presented in a softer light in his mother's presence, and also when he showed just an inkling of humanity at the knowledge that Amal could read. But in the end, he was simply evil through and through. This seemed particularly bothersome because his mother, Nasreen Baji, turned out to be so kind and decent, and with the two of them still living in the same household, it's hard to see how she could not have had more of a positive influence on her son. I kept expecting to see a glimmer of redemption in Jawad Sahib, or a streak of callousness in Nasreen Baji, to give the family more depth, but they remained one-dimensional.
Sunday, September 16, 2018
Sugar by Jewell Parker Rhodes
★★★★½
In 1870, slavery had already been abolished in the U.S. But many people who were formerly enslaved didn't have the means or the motivation to go north in search of other opportunities, and so they continued on in the only life they had ever known, living in the same shacks they lived in as slaves, and working for the same man who owned them as slaves. Sugar is a 10-year-old girl who lives and works with other formerly enslaved people on the River Road sugar cane plantation in Louisiana.
With a good number of formerly enslaved workers leaving the plantation, Mister Wills, the owner, decides to hire Chinese workers to address the labor shortage. The original River Road folks are anxious, afraid they will lose their jobs to the Chinese workers.
Sugar has the open-hearted, open-minded wisdom of a child, and she doesn't understand why she isn't allowed to play with Billy Wills, the owner's son with whom she gets along splendidly. She also doesn't understand why she isn't supposed to befriend the new Chinese workers, who fascinate her.
Admittedly, I felt a bit wary going into this book. On the one hand, the Chinese people were referred to as "Chinamen" - a derogatory term - and their queue-styled hair and Eastern-styled clothing marked them as "different". Would this book reinforce the "perpetual other" stereotype of Asians? Yet, back then, Chinese people really were completely unknown to many Americans, and the use of "Chinamen" is historically accurate. In the end, I think the author did a good job portraying the Chinese workers as different, but not "exotic"; just people, like everyone else, working hard for a living. About half-way through the book, Sugar learns to say "Chinese" instead of "Chinamen", but I'm not sure it was effectively made known that "Chinamen" is actually offensive, and using "Chinese" is not just a matter of preference.
Sugar and Billy, together with "Beau" - the youngest Chinese worker - eventually bring together the River Road community so that everyone understands everyone else just a little better.
I really enjoyed this story, and its peek into a little-known part of U.S. history. I gave this book just shy of 5 stars because the short, matter-of-fact sentences eventually became tiresome and choppy, though they started out as a simple way to convey Sugar's childlike thinking.
In 1870, slavery had already been abolished in the U.S. But many people who were formerly enslaved didn't have the means or the motivation to go north in search of other opportunities, and so they continued on in the only life they had ever known, living in the same shacks they lived in as slaves, and working for the same man who owned them as slaves. Sugar is a 10-year-old girl who lives and works with other formerly enslaved people on the River Road sugar cane plantation in Louisiana.
With a good number of formerly enslaved workers leaving the plantation, Mister Wills, the owner, decides to hire Chinese workers to address the labor shortage. The original River Road folks are anxious, afraid they will lose their jobs to the Chinese workers.
Sugar has the open-hearted, open-minded wisdom of a child, and she doesn't understand why she isn't allowed to play with Billy Wills, the owner's son with whom she gets along splendidly. She also doesn't understand why she isn't supposed to befriend the new Chinese workers, who fascinate her.
Admittedly, I felt a bit wary going into this book. On the one hand, the Chinese people were referred to as "Chinamen" - a derogatory term - and their queue-styled hair and Eastern-styled clothing marked them as "different". Would this book reinforce the "perpetual other" stereotype of Asians? Yet, back then, Chinese people really were completely unknown to many Americans, and the use of "Chinamen" is historically accurate. In the end, I think the author did a good job portraying the Chinese workers as different, but not "exotic"; just people, like everyone else, working hard for a living. About half-way through the book, Sugar learns to say "Chinese" instead of "Chinamen", but I'm not sure it was effectively made known that "Chinamen" is actually offensive, and using "Chinese" is not just a matter of preference.
Sugar and Billy, together with "Beau" - the youngest Chinese worker - eventually bring together the River Road community so that everyone understands everyone else just a little better.
I really enjoyed this story, and its peek into a little-known part of U.S. history. I gave this book just shy of 5 stars because the short, matter-of-fact sentences eventually became tiresome and choppy, though they started out as a simple way to convey Sugar's childlike thinking.
Labels:
book,
book: 4-and-a-half stars,
children,
multicultural
Monday, September 10, 2018
The Turtle of Oman by Naomi Shihab Nye
★★★½
Aref is a young boy in Muscat, Oman (a predominantly Muslim country, though neither Islam nor religion in general are topics in this book) who is so sad to be moving to Michigan, where both his parents will be graduate students at the University of Michigan for the next 3 years. In the week leading up to his departure, he spends quality time with his grandfather, Sidi, while putting off his packing and wondering how he can possibly leave the only home he's ever known.
I have to admit, I found the book slow to start. First I had to get past the realization that the book wasn't really about a turtle. Then, I was looking forward to reading about how things would go in Michigan when my daughter told me that the book ends before the actual move. After adjusting my expectations accordingly, I realized the book is not so much a story in the conventional way, but more like a lovely, poetic homage to Oman, and to the kind of special relationship a boy can have with his grandfather.
As Aref's adventures with Sidi help him to come to terms with his upcoming move, we come to see that Aref is the "turtle of Oman"; like the turtles who "carried their homes on their backs and swam out so far and returned safely to the beach they remembered" (page 210), Aref would be packing his most favorite possessions to bring with him to America, and would return again to his beloved homeland in just a few years.
This book gave me the kind of nostalgia you feel when you are in a moment, and realize that some time in the future, you will look back on that moment and feel sad because you miss that time in your life. Aref and his grandfather create beautiful memories together, but I can't help but wonder, "What if Aref's parents need to extend their studies much longer than the expected 3 years? What if they come back, but the 3 years apart take their toll, and Aref and Sidi never regain the same close relationship? What if Sidi dies while Aref is in America?!" I guess the book isn't about any of those things, anyway.
Ultimately, a good book for anyone interested in learning about another culture, or for a child feeling anxious about an upcoming move. (Even if they don't plan to return, their love for the home they are leaving may draw them back some day.)
Aref is a young boy in Muscat, Oman (a predominantly Muslim country, though neither Islam nor religion in general are topics in this book) who is so sad to be moving to Michigan, where both his parents will be graduate students at the University of Michigan for the next 3 years. In the week leading up to his departure, he spends quality time with his grandfather, Sidi, while putting off his packing and wondering how he can possibly leave the only home he's ever known.
I have to admit, I found the book slow to start. First I had to get past the realization that the book wasn't really about a turtle. Then, I was looking forward to reading about how things would go in Michigan when my daughter told me that the book ends before the actual move. After adjusting my expectations accordingly, I realized the book is not so much a story in the conventional way, but more like a lovely, poetic homage to Oman, and to the kind of special relationship a boy can have with his grandfather.
As Aref's adventures with Sidi help him to come to terms with his upcoming move, we come to see that Aref is the "turtle of Oman"; like the turtles who "carried their homes on their backs and swam out so far and returned safely to the beach they remembered" (page 210), Aref would be packing his most favorite possessions to bring with him to America, and would return again to his beloved homeland in just a few years.
This book gave me the kind of nostalgia you feel when you are in a moment, and realize that some time in the future, you will look back on that moment and feel sad because you miss that time in your life. Aref and his grandfather create beautiful memories together, but I can't help but wonder, "What if Aref's parents need to extend their studies much longer than the expected 3 years? What if they come back, but the 3 years apart take their toll, and Aref and Sidi never regain the same close relationship? What if Sidi dies while Aref is in America?!" I guess the book isn't about any of those things, anyway.
Ultimately, a good book for anyone interested in learning about another culture, or for a child feeling anxious about an upcoming move. (Even if they don't plan to return, their love for the home they are leaving may draw them back some day.)
Labels:
book,
book: 3-and-a-half stars,
children,
multicultural,
series
Friday, August 31, 2018
American Panda by Grace Chao
★★★
*** Warning!! This review contains spoilers!! ***
I have lots of mixed feelings about this book. I really, really, really wanted to love it. I'm a big fan of promoting diverse books, and I think narrative plenitude is super important. In that vein, I absolutely acknowledge that each individual book involving another culture can not be expected to represent the entire culture in a way that suits me, and the only way to escape that expectation is for more books, and a much wider variety of books, to be written. Maybe if we already had narrative plenitude for Asian-Americans, I wouldn't feel guilty about my rating, which I gave a little bump for its diversity factor.
From the outset, if ever there was a book that I should feel was written for me - the kind of book I would have wanted growing up - this book would be it. Like the main character Mei, I, too, am a child of immigrants whose families left China for Taiwan during the Communist Revolution. I, too, grew up in Massachusetts, went to Chinese School, danced in a traditional Chinese folk dance troupe, went to MIT, and lived in Burton Conner. In college, my mother occasionally brought me Chinese food, and I even dated a Japanese boy. So yes, I identified with Mei, and I appreciate that such a book exists that can speak to readers who are younger versions of myself.
I thought the author did a really wonderful job portraying how Mei's strict and overbearing parents were motivated by love and tradition, and how Mei's filial piety came from a place of appreciation and respect. On the whole, the book was a fantastic story about how an Asian-American teenager comes to terms with her identity while straddling two cultures. Yet, it bothered me that both Mei and her parents fit all the stereotypes, from the "tiger mom" parenting style to the model minority myth. Mei's mom was even a terrible driver, which added nothing to plot or character development. I found these characters to be believable, but I was weighed down by the propagated stereotypes.
Other characters, like Dr. Chang, were far less believable. She was a mousy, poor excuse for a doctor whose role as a plot device couldn't have been more contrived. Also, giving the mean girl Valerie an unflattering health condition seemed unnecessary.
Throughout the book, there were three things I found repeatedly distracting. The first was the frequent use of Chinese without a glossary for reference. I liked that the author used pinyin with accent marks - too frequently the crucial accents are left out of pinyin - but the Chinese was only sometimes translated. I know enough Chinese so I was able to understand all the references, but I know that when I read books with languages unknown to me, I always like to know what the non-English words mean, instead of having to guess and wonder if I guessed correctly. Sometimes, there was enough context to figure out the gist of the Chinese words' meaning, but not always.
Another distraction was the habitual references to MIT culture. The explanations about MIT lingo - most presented in a blatant "tell" rather than "show" manner - seemed more like name-dropping, giving me a sense of like, "Look, I really did go to MIT, I really am an insider, let me prove it to you." It's like the book was trying too hard to push the MIT connection.
Thirdly - and this might say more about me than the book - I was really taken aback by the occasional raunchiness. The cover art, the interior design, the personality of the main character - they all led me to believe that this would be a pretty straight arrow kind of book. But every now and then, I was thrown off by a sexually explicit joke, a sexually implicit use of a word like "horny" or "beaver", and casual use of the f-word. They all just seemed out of place for a "nice girl" character like Mei. The added vulgarity didn't add any authenticity or relevance, it was almost as if those references were thrown in to say, "Look, just so you know, Mei isn't a goody-two-shoes, and MIT students aren't all prudes." This book definitely falls in the "Young Adult" category, and I wouldn't recommend it for middle schoolers (which I might have done if I judged the book by its cover).
Finally, I was incredibly disappointed in the direction one of the conflicts took. Mei's brother Xing was disowned by their parents because he wanted to marry a woman who had a health condition that presumably prevented her from having children, thus depriving them of ever having grandchildren to carry on the family name. This was obviously a huge conflict, and any resolution would involve a major change in heart from one side or the other. Instead, the conflict was diluted when the woman got pregnant. It just seemed like a cop-out.
Overall, a good book about Asian-American identity, but not as well-executed as I would have liked.
*** Warning!! This review contains spoilers!! ***
I have lots of mixed feelings about this book. I really, really, really wanted to love it. I'm a big fan of promoting diverse books, and I think narrative plenitude is super important. In that vein, I absolutely acknowledge that each individual book involving another culture can not be expected to represent the entire culture in a way that suits me, and the only way to escape that expectation is for more books, and a much wider variety of books, to be written. Maybe if we already had narrative plenitude for Asian-Americans, I wouldn't feel guilty about my rating, which I gave a little bump for its diversity factor.
From the outset, if ever there was a book that I should feel was written for me - the kind of book I would have wanted growing up - this book would be it. Like the main character Mei, I, too, am a child of immigrants whose families left China for Taiwan during the Communist Revolution. I, too, grew up in Massachusetts, went to Chinese School, danced in a traditional Chinese folk dance troupe, went to MIT, and lived in Burton Conner. In college, my mother occasionally brought me Chinese food, and I even dated a Japanese boy. So yes, I identified with Mei, and I appreciate that such a book exists that can speak to readers who are younger versions of myself.
I thought the author did a really wonderful job portraying how Mei's strict and overbearing parents were motivated by love and tradition, and how Mei's filial piety came from a place of appreciation and respect. On the whole, the book was a fantastic story about how an Asian-American teenager comes to terms with her identity while straddling two cultures. Yet, it bothered me that both Mei and her parents fit all the stereotypes, from the "tiger mom" parenting style to the model minority myth. Mei's mom was even a terrible driver, which added nothing to plot or character development. I found these characters to be believable, but I was weighed down by the propagated stereotypes.
Other characters, like Dr. Chang, were far less believable. She was a mousy, poor excuse for a doctor whose role as a plot device couldn't have been more contrived. Also, giving the mean girl Valerie an unflattering health condition seemed unnecessary.
Throughout the book, there were three things I found repeatedly distracting. The first was the frequent use of Chinese without a glossary for reference. I liked that the author used pinyin with accent marks - too frequently the crucial accents are left out of pinyin - but the Chinese was only sometimes translated. I know enough Chinese so I was able to understand all the references, but I know that when I read books with languages unknown to me, I always like to know what the non-English words mean, instead of having to guess and wonder if I guessed correctly. Sometimes, there was enough context to figure out the gist of the Chinese words' meaning, but not always.
Another distraction was the habitual references to MIT culture. The explanations about MIT lingo - most presented in a blatant "tell" rather than "show" manner - seemed more like name-dropping, giving me a sense of like, "Look, I really did go to MIT, I really am an insider, let me prove it to you." It's like the book was trying too hard to push the MIT connection.
Thirdly - and this might say more about me than the book - I was really taken aback by the occasional raunchiness. The cover art, the interior design, the personality of the main character - they all led me to believe that this would be a pretty straight arrow kind of book. But every now and then, I was thrown off by a sexually explicit joke, a sexually implicit use of a word like "horny" or "beaver", and casual use of the f-word. They all just seemed out of place for a "nice girl" character like Mei. The added vulgarity didn't add any authenticity or relevance, it was almost as if those references were thrown in to say, "Look, just so you know, Mei isn't a goody-two-shoes, and MIT students aren't all prudes." This book definitely falls in the "Young Adult" category, and I wouldn't recommend it for middle schoolers (which I might have done if I judged the book by its cover).
Finally, I was incredibly disappointed in the direction one of the conflicts took. Mei's brother Xing was disowned by their parents because he wanted to marry a woman who had a health condition that presumably prevented her from having children, thus depriving them of ever having grandchildren to carry on the family name. This was obviously a huge conflict, and any resolution would involve a major change in heart from one side or the other. Instead, the conflict was diluted when the woman got pregnant. It just seemed like a cop-out.
Overall, a good book about Asian-American identity, but not as well-executed as I would have liked.
Sunday, August 26, 2018
So You Want to Talk About Race by Ijeoma Oluo
★★★★★
This is THE book for anyone who wants a primer on social justice. Ijeoma Oluo clearly and carefully explains all the lingo you have probably already seen but maybe don't fully understand: (white) privilege, intersectionality, microagressions, school-to-prison pipeline, model minority myth, cultural appropriation, and tone policing. There's even a chapter about why black people can say the n-word and white people shouldn't, and why the n-word is not comparable to "cracker" (at which some white people take offense).
The writing is straightforward and approachable, with a bit of humor thrown in to lighten the mood. Oluo includes a number of painful, personal anecdotes that could be eye-openers for readers who may not otherwise hear about such experiences first-hand (though they are prevalent in communities of color).
Even if you are quite knowledgeable about social justice issues, and even if you're a person of color, this book is still worth reading. It will give you some insights both in terms of what you can say to others when talking about race, and also how others might feel if they are the ones not understanding or being called out for acting racist. Much of the content could be considered geared towards white people outside the activist community who are willing to learn, but there's a lot that even a woke person of color would find reassuring and validating.
The real shame is that the people who would most benefit from reading this book - the people who don't talk about race because they "don't see color" and think our society is already "post-racial" - are probably the least likely to read it. It's our job, then, to keep on talking and help plant some seeds, until everybody gets to the point of reaching for this book.
This is THE book for anyone who wants a primer on social justice. Ijeoma Oluo clearly and carefully explains all the lingo you have probably already seen but maybe don't fully understand: (white) privilege, intersectionality, microagressions, school-to-prison pipeline, model minority myth, cultural appropriation, and tone policing. There's even a chapter about why black people can say the n-word and white people shouldn't, and why the n-word is not comparable to "cracker" (at which some white people take offense).
The writing is straightforward and approachable, with a bit of humor thrown in to lighten the mood. Oluo includes a number of painful, personal anecdotes that could be eye-openers for readers who may not otherwise hear about such experiences first-hand (though they are prevalent in communities of color).
Even if you are quite knowledgeable about social justice issues, and even if you're a person of color, this book is still worth reading. It will give you some insights both in terms of what you can say to others when talking about race, and also how others might feel if they are the ones not understanding or being called out for acting racist. Much of the content could be considered geared towards white people outside the activist community who are willing to learn, but there's a lot that even a woke person of color would find reassuring and validating.
The real shame is that the people who would most benefit from reading this book - the people who don't talk about race because they "don't see color" and think our society is already "post-racial" - are probably the least likely to read it. It's our job, then, to keep on talking and help plant some seeds, until everybody gets to the point of reaching for this book.
Monday, June 18, 2018
Crazy Rich Asians Roundup
A breezy, beachy series. The first book has novelty appeal, which decreases with each subsequent book, but the soap opera-y storylines kept me entertained.
- Crazy Rich Asians (#1) ★★★
- China Rich Girlfriend (#2) ★★★
- Rich People Problems (#3) ★★★
Rich People Problems (Crazy Rich Asians #3) by Kevin Kwan
★★★
Picking up this book, I thought for sure I would end up rating it lower than the first two, thinking I'd be tired of "more of the same" in terms of the outrageous spending and constant references to fashion and food. But my curiosity about the fate of Tyersall Park drew me in, and who can resist the sprawling soap opera-y cast of inter-related characters full of drama, scandal, and crises.
In pattern with the series, this book further introduced us to new levels of luxury throughout Asia, this time in Thailand, India, and the Philippines. Also, I liked how this book finally gave us a peek into the lives of the servants at Tyersall Park.
While I wouldn't call this a thinking book, it does offer some light lessons of self-reflection and history. Mostly it's a fun, beachy read, and my only regret is not actually reading this series on a beach.
Picking up this book, I thought for sure I would end up rating it lower than the first two, thinking I'd be tired of "more of the same" in terms of the outrageous spending and constant references to fashion and food. But my curiosity about the fate of Tyersall Park drew me in, and who can resist the sprawling soap opera-y cast of inter-related characters full of drama, scandal, and crises.
In pattern with the series, this book further introduced us to new levels of luxury throughout Asia, this time in Thailand, India, and the Philippines. Also, I liked how this book finally gave us a peek into the lives of the servants at Tyersall Park.
While I wouldn't call this a thinking book, it does offer some light lessons of self-reflection and history. Mostly it's a fun, beachy read, and my only regret is not actually reading this series on a beach.
Saturday, June 2, 2018
China Rich Girlfriend (Crazy Rich Asians #2) by Kevin Kwan
★★★
Another fun and entertaining read. In this installment, Rachel Chu becomes incrementally more interesting, but mostly because of the people around her and the experiences she is thrown into.
This book offers a growing cast of characters - in fact, I was disappointed not to see more of Nick's mother Eleanor - in increasingly soap opera-y storylines. It also takes us beyond Singapore to Hong Kong and China, for even more jaw-dropping examples of how the insanely wealthy "China rich" elite spend their money. To some extent, this book offered "more of the same", and I grew a bit weary of all the references to fashion and food. But there was even more drama and intrigue than in the first book, so it was still an engaging read.
Another fun and entertaining read. In this installment, Rachel Chu becomes incrementally more interesting, but mostly because of the people around her and the experiences she is thrown into.
This book offers a growing cast of characters - in fact, I was disappointed not to see more of Nick's mother Eleanor - in increasingly soap opera-y storylines. It also takes us beyond Singapore to Hong Kong and China, for even more jaw-dropping examples of how the insanely wealthy "China rich" elite spend their money. To some extent, this book offered "more of the same", and I grew a bit weary of all the references to fashion and food. But there was even more drama and intrigue than in the first book, so it was still an engaging read.
Saturday, May 12, 2018
Crazy Rich Asians (Crazy Rich Asians #1) by Kevin Kwan
★★★
A fun, frolicking read among the lifestyles of the crazy rich Asians of Singapore. Frequent footnotes explained the many-faceted Singaporean culture, a mix of Chinese, Malay, Indian, and British influences, and language that drew from Mandarin, Cantonese, Malay, and Hokkien. Authentic foods, high fashion, and soaring architecture make this book one for the senses - it's easy to envision the big-screen interpretation, which I can't wait to see in August.
In fact, without the trailer for the upcoming movie - and Constance Wu firmly planted in my mind as Rachel Chu - I'm not sure what kind of an impression Rachel and Nick would have made on me; despite being main characters, they are perhaps the two least developed characters in the book. While Rachel and Nick drove the story, I found myself at least as invested in Astrid Leong's storyline, if not more. And while relationships were at the center of the drama, I wouldn't call this book a "romance" novel. It's a light-hearted romp into a fantasy of over-the-top luxury.
A fun, frolicking read among the lifestyles of the crazy rich Asians of Singapore. Frequent footnotes explained the many-faceted Singaporean culture, a mix of Chinese, Malay, Indian, and British influences, and language that drew from Mandarin, Cantonese, Malay, and Hokkien. Authentic foods, high fashion, and soaring architecture make this book one for the senses - it's easy to envision the big-screen interpretation, which I can't wait to see in August.
In fact, without the trailer for the upcoming movie - and Constance Wu firmly planted in my mind as Rachel Chu - I'm not sure what kind of an impression Rachel and Nick would have made on me; despite being main characters, they are perhaps the two least developed characters in the book. While Rachel and Nick drove the story, I found myself at least as invested in Astrid Leong's storyline, if not more. And while relationships were at the center of the drama, I wouldn't call this book a "romance" novel. It's a light-hearted romp into a fantasy of over-the-top luxury.
Thursday, April 26, 2018
Lafayette in the Somewhat United States by Sarah Vowell
★★★★
A cheeky, irreverent book about the Marquis de Lafayette and his role in the American Revolution. I learned so much!
It was a little discombobulating, at first, to be reading a historical non-fiction, and then suddenly see references to modern-day events thrown in for comedic effect. The author makes a lot of self-references, too, regarding events that took place while she was researching the book. So this is definitely not a traditional historical non-fiction book, but it's probably at least as educational because it's so engaging.
The author has a certain kind of roundabout writing style, so very frequently I had to re-read sentences just to get my head around them. The book, too, isn't divided into chapters; it's just one long jaunty narrative, and that took a little getting used to.
Anyway, this book was chock-full of fascinating anecdotes, not just about Lafayette, but French politics and George Washington and other Revolutionary War events in general. A great read for anyone interested in getting their feet wet in learning more about Lafayette or the American Revolution, but not willing to hunker down with a heavier non-fiction read.
A cheeky, irreverent book about the Marquis de Lafayette and his role in the American Revolution. I learned so much!
It was a little discombobulating, at first, to be reading a historical non-fiction, and then suddenly see references to modern-day events thrown in for comedic effect. The author makes a lot of self-references, too, regarding events that took place while she was researching the book. So this is definitely not a traditional historical non-fiction book, but it's probably at least as educational because it's so engaging.
The author has a certain kind of roundabout writing style, so very frequently I had to re-read sentences just to get my head around them. The book, too, isn't divided into chapters; it's just one long jaunty narrative, and that took a little getting used to.
Anyway, this book was chock-full of fascinating anecdotes, not just about Lafayette, but French politics and George Washington and other Revolutionary War events in general. A great read for anyone interested in getting their feet wet in learning more about Lafayette or the American Revolution, but not willing to hunker down with a heavier non-fiction read.
Sunday, March 18, 2018
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck by Mark Manson
★★★½
I picked up this book because I know myself to be easily outraged and constantly feeling anxious or indignant. That is, I give too many f*cks about too many things. I really hoped to learn something about how to care a little less about things in general.
To be clear, the book isn't really about not giving any f*cks about anything. Rather, the author's mission is to lead you to understand that the real issue is about having the right priorities and values so you can make good life decisions and reserve your f*cks for the things that really matter. Using both his own life and the lives of interesting historical and public figures as examples, the author shows us what values will best lead us towards happiness and fulfillment.
Here are a few lines with which I really identified:
Page 13-14: "[W]hen you give too many f*cks... you will feel that you're perpetually entitled to feel comfortable and happy at all times, that everything is supposed to be just exactly the f*cking way you want it. This is a sickness. And it will eat you alive."
Page 31-32: "Happiness comes from solving problems... The secret sauce is in the solving of the problems, not in the not having problems in the first place... True happiness occurs only when you find the problems you enjoy having and enjoy solving."
Page 117: "We shouldn't seek to find the ultimate "right" answer for ourselves, but rather, we should seek to chip away at the ways that we're wrong today so that we can be a little less wrong tomorrow."
The author pulls together concepts from many sources; he admits that a lot of his ideas aren't original, and he gives credit where credit is due. He then distills these ideas into an overall philosophy that is relatable, approachable, and seemingly implementable. I have to admit, his perspective makes sense. He doesn't actually provide specific instructions on how exactly to give fewer f*cks, but he does present a bigger picture, which, if you buy into it, should naturally lead you to only give a f*ck about things that really matter.
Given the title, it's no surprise that the language in this book can get pretty vulgar. I'm usually not one to use profanity myself, so it was something I just had to accept. It was sometimes a little jarring, though, because the author might go on for several paragraphs, or even pages, using perfectly appropriate language, and then right when he's in the middle of explaining a profound insight, he'll throw in some profanity.
I picked up this book because I know myself to be easily outraged and constantly feeling anxious or indignant. That is, I give too many f*cks about too many things. I really hoped to learn something about how to care a little less about things in general.
To be clear, the book isn't really about not giving any f*cks about anything. Rather, the author's mission is to lead you to understand that the real issue is about having the right priorities and values so you can make good life decisions and reserve your f*cks for the things that really matter. Using both his own life and the lives of interesting historical and public figures as examples, the author shows us what values will best lead us towards happiness and fulfillment.
Here are a few lines with which I really identified:
Page 13-14: "[W]hen you give too many f*cks... you will feel that you're perpetually entitled to feel comfortable and happy at all times, that everything is supposed to be just exactly the f*cking way you want it. This is a sickness. And it will eat you alive."
Page 31-32: "Happiness comes from solving problems... The secret sauce is in the solving of the problems, not in the not having problems in the first place... True happiness occurs only when you find the problems you enjoy having and enjoy solving."
Page 117: "We shouldn't seek to find the ultimate "right" answer for ourselves, but rather, we should seek to chip away at the ways that we're wrong today so that we can be a little less wrong tomorrow."
The author pulls together concepts from many sources; he admits that a lot of his ideas aren't original, and he gives credit where credit is due. He then distills these ideas into an overall philosophy that is relatable, approachable, and seemingly implementable. I have to admit, his perspective makes sense. He doesn't actually provide specific instructions on how exactly to give fewer f*cks, but he does present a bigger picture, which, if you buy into it, should naturally lead you to only give a f*ck about things that really matter.
Given the title, it's no surprise that the language in this book can get pretty vulgar. I'm usually not one to use profanity myself, so it was something I just had to accept. It was sometimes a little jarring, though, because the author might go on for several paragraphs, or even pages, using perfectly appropriate language, and then right when he's in the middle of explaining a profound insight, he'll throw in some profanity.
Sunday, February 25, 2018
A Long Walk to Water by Linda Sue Park
★★★★★
A truly remarkable and inspiring story based on real people and real events. This book is written for a middle school audience, and it's almost mind-boggling to think that many of the young people who read this book are about the same age as the two main characters, Salva and Nya. A true "window" of a book, allowing young readers a look into the kind of lives other children their own age may be living.
A truly remarkable and inspiring story based on real people and real events. This book is written for a middle school audience, and it's almost mind-boggling to think that many of the young people who read this book are about the same age as the two main characters, Salva and Nya. A true "window" of a book, allowing young readers a look into the kind of lives other children their own age may be living.
Friday, February 23, 2018
The Pants Project by Cat Clarke
★★★★½
*** Warning: This review contains spoilers!! ***
First off, it's worth saying that The Pants Project is just a well-written, funny book! It was really enjoyable to read.
Reading this book on the heels of George, I can't help but compare the two. This write-up is going to be less of a "review", and more of just "my impressions".
While George was written for an upper elementary audience, and features a transgender girl in the 4th grade, The Pants Project was written for a middle school audience, and features a transgender boy in the 6th grade. Both books were well-written for their relative age groups.
In both books, the main character had already realized they were transgender, but it was a secret they kept to themselves. Both George and Liv unfortunately attended schools that had gender-specific policies that exacerbated their discomfort, and in both cases, it was something school-related that helped to precipitate their coming out - first to a trusted friend, and then to their family.
George was written in the third person, and female pronouns were used throughout. In The Pants Project, Liv narrates in the first person, so we don't know what pronouns he/she would prefer... I honestly wasn't sure what pronoun to use in this write-up, and I guess I settled on "they".
Anyway. Both George and Liv had that one awesome friend who didn't bat an eye about their being transgender. I kind of wonder how realistic that is, but it seems like a good thing for kids to read books that portray that kind of compassionate friendship.
Both George and Liv also happened to have "non-standard" families - George had a single mother, and Liv had two moms. While single motherhood was not at all an issue in George, Liv did have to face some cruel bullying directed at their moms. In that way, The Pants Project was about more than just being transgender; Liv faced other typical middle school problems, like friend drama and family struggles.
George's mom had a bit of a harder time coming to terms with George's transgender identity, while Liv's moms were immediately 100% accepting. I do suspect that in real life, most parents are not nearly as readily supportive as George and Liv's parents, but again, it seems like a good thing for readers to see that kind of acceptance modeled in books.
Both books had happy endings that stopped short of exploring what a transgender student might go through to come out in school. I'm sure that's a huge, difficult-to-tackle topic that maybe is best addressed separately from these brave stories about children coming out to close friends and family. Still, it's the logical next step, and I'd be interested in seeing Liv continue to challenge her classmates, teachers, and school administrators.
I also wish The Pants Project could have revealed what Mom said to Jade, to make Jade stop bullying Liv. It just seems like it would be really useful to have a model of a speech that people could emulate if they ever have to tell off a bully - which I'm sure is quite common.
*** Warning: This review contains spoilers!! ***
First off, it's worth saying that The Pants Project is just a well-written, funny book! It was really enjoyable to read.
Reading this book on the heels of George, I can't help but compare the two. This write-up is going to be less of a "review", and more of just "my impressions".
While George was written for an upper elementary audience, and features a transgender girl in the 4th grade, The Pants Project was written for a middle school audience, and features a transgender boy in the 6th grade. Both books were well-written for their relative age groups.
In both books, the main character had already realized they were transgender, but it was a secret they kept to themselves. Both George and Liv unfortunately attended schools that had gender-specific policies that exacerbated their discomfort, and in both cases, it was something school-related that helped to precipitate their coming out - first to a trusted friend, and then to their family.
George was written in the third person, and female pronouns were used throughout. In The Pants Project, Liv narrates in the first person, so we don't know what pronouns he/she would prefer... I honestly wasn't sure what pronoun to use in this write-up, and I guess I settled on "they".
Anyway. Both George and Liv had that one awesome friend who didn't bat an eye about their being transgender. I kind of wonder how realistic that is, but it seems like a good thing for kids to read books that portray that kind of compassionate friendship.
Both George and Liv also happened to have "non-standard" families - George had a single mother, and Liv had two moms. While single motherhood was not at all an issue in George, Liv did have to face some cruel bullying directed at their moms. In that way, The Pants Project was about more than just being transgender; Liv faced other typical middle school problems, like friend drama and family struggles.
George's mom had a bit of a harder time coming to terms with George's transgender identity, while Liv's moms were immediately 100% accepting. I do suspect that in real life, most parents are not nearly as readily supportive as George and Liv's parents, but again, it seems like a good thing for readers to see that kind of acceptance modeled in books.
Both books had happy endings that stopped short of exploring what a transgender student might go through to come out in school. I'm sure that's a huge, difficult-to-tackle topic that maybe is best addressed separately from these brave stories about children coming out to close friends and family. Still, it's the logical next step, and I'd be interested in seeing Liv continue to challenge her classmates, teachers, and school administrators.
I also wish The Pants Project could have revealed what Mom said to Jade, to make Jade stop bullying Liv. It just seems like it would be really useful to have a model of a speech that people could emulate if they ever have to tell off a bully - which I'm sure is quite common.
Monday, February 19, 2018
George by Alex Gino
★★★★
*** Warning: This review contains spoilers!! ***
George is a transgender girl in the fourth grade.
Right from the beginning, the book jumps into the story by referring to George with female pronouns like "she" and "her", even though she is not yet out, and everyone around her refers to her as a boy. It's a bit jarring, but drives home the point that George is a girl, and her whole existence feels wrong to her, with her name and appearance not actually matching her sense of gender. In fact, it was interesting how the grammar paralleled George's story; when George finally went out in public as a girl and used the name Melissa - and the book's pronouns finally matched her name - it really just felt right.
Admittedly, I was not especially impressed by the writing at first. There seemed to be a lot more "telling" than "showing" when it came to introducing the characters. I thought I might give the book's rating an extra bump just because of its socially relevant content, but as the story developed, I think it earned the full four stars. I was won over by the way the story referenced Charlotte's Web (one of my favorite books), and I found the final chapter with Melissa and her best friend Kelly just so heartwarming and uplifting.
It may be helpful to know that this book is not a book that just happens to feature a transgender character - the entire plot of the book revolves around directly addressing the topic of what it means to be transgender in an age-appropriate way for upper elementary readers. Both George and Kelly do just happen to have single parents, though, which was a nice change from the typical all-families-have-happily-married-parents set-up that we usually see in children's books.
Being cisgender myself, I can't speak to the accuracy or authenticity of George's experiences, though it all seemed pretty believable to me. I think George's mom's reaction - at first dismissive, then unpleasantly surprised, and ultimately supportive in a we'll-figure-this-out-together type of way - was realistic and appropriate for the intended audience. If she had been outrightly accepting from the beginning, it would have seemed too pat. If she had been too harshly intolerant, it could have been too much for young readers to bear. I loved that George's teenage brother was matter-of-fact accepting, and that Kelly welcomed Melissa with open arms. I imagine that not all transgender kids would be lucky enough to have a friend like Kelly, but I appreciate seeing that kind of friendship modeled in the book.
It's nice that the book ended as it did, but I would have liked to have seen George take Principal Maldonado up on her offer of support, maybe see how the principal could have helped George's mom, perhaps even connect her with a support group or other resources. Maybe it would have been too much to go into for a book at this level, but I also would have liked to read more about how George/Melissa might have handled her transition in school, and how Ms. Udell and the other students might have reacted.
*** Warning: This review contains spoilers!! ***
George is a transgender girl in the fourth grade.
Right from the beginning, the book jumps into the story by referring to George with female pronouns like "she" and "her", even though she is not yet out, and everyone around her refers to her as a boy. It's a bit jarring, but drives home the point that George is a girl, and her whole existence feels wrong to her, with her name and appearance not actually matching her sense of gender. In fact, it was interesting how the grammar paralleled George's story; when George finally went out in public as a girl and used the name Melissa - and the book's pronouns finally matched her name - it really just felt right.
Admittedly, I was not especially impressed by the writing at first. There seemed to be a lot more "telling" than "showing" when it came to introducing the characters. I thought I might give the book's rating an extra bump just because of its socially relevant content, but as the story developed, I think it earned the full four stars. I was won over by the way the story referenced Charlotte's Web (one of my favorite books), and I found the final chapter with Melissa and her best friend Kelly just so heartwarming and uplifting.
It may be helpful to know that this book is not a book that just happens to feature a transgender character - the entire plot of the book revolves around directly addressing the topic of what it means to be transgender in an age-appropriate way for upper elementary readers. Both George and Kelly do just happen to have single parents, though, which was a nice change from the typical all-families-have-happily-married-parents set-up that we usually see in children's books.
Being cisgender myself, I can't speak to the accuracy or authenticity of George's experiences, though it all seemed pretty believable to me. I think George's mom's reaction - at first dismissive, then unpleasantly surprised, and ultimately supportive in a we'll-figure-this-out-together type of way - was realistic and appropriate for the intended audience. If she had been outrightly accepting from the beginning, it would have seemed too pat. If she had been too harshly intolerant, it could have been too much for young readers to bear. I loved that George's teenage brother was matter-of-fact accepting, and that Kelly welcomed Melissa with open arms. I imagine that not all transgender kids would be lucky enough to have a friend like Kelly, but I appreciate seeing that kind of friendship modeled in the book.
It's nice that the book ended as it did, but I would have liked to have seen George take Principal Maldonado up on her offer of support, maybe see how the principal could have helped George's mom, perhaps even connect her with a support group or other resources. Maybe it would have been too much to go into for a book at this level, but I also would have liked to read more about how George/Melissa might have handled her transition in school, and how Ms. Udell and the other students might have reacted.
Sunday, February 18, 2018
This is Our Constitution by Khizr Khan
★★★★
After a few introductory chapters, Khizr Khan provides an easy-to-read modern-day "translation" of the Constitution, paraphrasing the original text article by article, section by section, using every-day words that are easy to understand. There's a bit more summarizing with some of the amendments, but the idea is the same. There are also a few sections about landmark Supreme Court cases that shed light on how the Constitution has been interpreted over the years.
I wanted to be able to say that I've actually read the Constitution, so I made the dubious decision to read the original text - which is included in full towards the end of the book - alongside Khizr Khan's "translation". What a slog. :P It was hard for me to parse, and I couldn't figure out what some of the phrases meant. Khizr Khan's version was indispensable in helping me to actually understand the Constitution.
In a book geared towards middle schoolers that carefully explains a number of words, I was a little bothered that "tyranny" and "tyrant" weren't explicitly defined. Also, the "translation" could have been a little clearer in regards to one part of the 12th Amendment; I was confused because the original text referenced a date of March 4, but the paraphrased version stated January 20. I did a little Googling, and it turns out, the date of March 4 (as the start of the new president's term) was changed to January 20 in the 20th Amendment. So both dates were "correct", but the use of January 20 in the "translation" assumes knowledge of the 20th Amendment.
After a few introductory chapters, Khizr Khan provides an easy-to-read modern-day "translation" of the Constitution, paraphrasing the original text article by article, section by section, using every-day words that are easy to understand. There's a bit more summarizing with some of the amendments, but the idea is the same. There are also a few sections about landmark Supreme Court cases that shed light on how the Constitution has been interpreted over the years.
I wanted to be able to say that I've actually read the Constitution, so I made the dubious decision to read the original text - which is included in full towards the end of the book - alongside Khizr Khan's "translation". What a slog. :P It was hard for me to parse, and I couldn't figure out what some of the phrases meant. Khizr Khan's version was indispensable in helping me to actually understand the Constitution.
In a book geared towards middle schoolers that carefully explains a number of words, I was a little bothered that "tyranny" and "tyrant" weren't explicitly defined. Also, the "translation" could have been a little clearer in regards to one part of the 12th Amendment; I was confused because the original text referenced a date of March 4, but the paraphrased version stated January 20. I did a little Googling, and it turns out, the date of March 4 (as the start of the new president's term) was changed to January 20 in the 20th Amendment. So both dates were "correct", but the use of January 20 in the "translation" assumes knowledge of the 20th Amendment.
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