​When I began teaching Young Adult Literature at Utah Valley University, I wanted to select core texts that went through the YA themes and genres that we’d be exploring throughout the semester. One of the very first YA themes we discuss is that of identity and acceptance. It’s not a surprise that this is a dominant theme in adolescent literature-- where coming of age stories are highlighted. It is during this pivotal time in a person’s life that we all look at who we are, how we relate to and fit into the world around us, and even more so, how we fit into the community and our immediate peers. I clearly remember asking my mother to order the silver L.L. Bean backpack from a catalog before beginning middle school, just because I knew that the varied colored school bags were what a large group of my peers would be bringing to the sixth grade. And before beginning the eleventh grade, I remember searching through the mall to find the brown corduroy Jansport bag for the very same reason. Fitting in as a pre-teen and teen feels important.  

​Cash struggles throughout the novel with guilt for leaving behind the town he loves and his aging grandparents, and fitting into a new school that he doesn’t feel he belongs. His roommate is a privileged son of a politician, peers have grown up with yachts and summer vacations in Paris-- and Cash has neither the money nor the academic accolades to justify his matriculation. However, as the book progresses, Cash finds a small yet close group of friends who are kind, accept him for who he is, and become a family away from home. Additionally he slowly begins to learn that he is unique of and of worth-- assisted by an attentive teacher who encourages him to write.

“We think of language as this tame thing that lives in neat garden beds, bound by rules and fences. Then someone shows it to you growing wild and beautiful, flowering vines consuming cities, erasing pavement and lines. Breaking through any fence that would try to contain it. Reclaiming. Reshaping. Reforming. In my life, I've never known anything else that felt so full of infinite possibility. Words make me feel strong. They make me feel powerful and alive. They make me feel like I can open doors.” (Zentner, 2021, In the Wild Light)

​In the Wild Light explores more than just identity and acceptance-- deep themes of conquering fear, existing through grief, connecting to home and place, and discovering the power of words are just a few Zentner highlights. These, in tandem with the very real teenage desire to discover self and connection accomplishes a wonderfully powerful story that will continue to live on my syllabus for the foreseeable future. 

References
 
Jones, P. (2006). Stargirls, stray dogs, freaks, and nails: Person vs. society conflicts and nonconformist protagonists in young adult fiction. Alan Review, 33(3), 13
 
Spinelli, J. (2000). Stargirl. Alfred a Knopf Incorporated.
 
Zentner, J. (2021). In the wild light. Andersen Press Limited.

Shortly after we met, we began discussing our mutual passion for “multicultural” books - and I spearheaded an initiative that foundered - I wrote a proposal for a conference that would focus on authors (and books with protagonists) who self-identified with communities that had been underrepresented. We hoped to bring librarians, teachers, professors, students and writers who had a shared interested in amplifying marginalized voices, together, in conversation, in our beautiful ocean state. My proposal failed - and although I had sent the manuscript of CLIMBING THE STAIRS to 30 agents before I finally secured one - I didn’t try quite as many times with our diversity conference proposal. I gave up trying to get funding after about 5 tries. But although that initiative failed, by then I had forged a friendship with Donna, which flowered over the years. ​

Donna had a busy life - in addition to  teaching courses in reference services, information literacy and multicultural literacy, and all the other demands on her time as a library science professor at the the University of Rhode Island, she was also a member of more than one church, taught or coordinated Sunday School, worked with Children and Family Ministries, conducted choirs, served on several church and library boards and even composed music. But she always found time in her busy schedule for us to meet. Sometimes we’d go to a book reading or attend a library or university event together, sometimes we’d share a meal together with my family or celebrate a milestone with her large circle of friends. Every once in a while, we spoke about the prejudices we’d faced and the hurdles we still faced, as women of color. And often, I listened as she shared her extensive knowledge of the history of multicultural books for young people, in the English language. ​

When I met Donna, she had already written one of the first books on diversity in children’s literature - and it not only covered the state of the field in America, but also in some other parts of the English-speaking world. “You’ll be in the second edition,” she promised, “because you are among the first in this field.” Sure enough, my work and name are mentioned in the revised version of her book, that was published a few years ago. She also authored another book on lifelong learning in public libraries. I have both copies of her book on “Multicultural Literature” - and reading it taught me a great deal about the long history of the field; and it is, in part, to Donna that I owe my deep understanding for the many who came before even I did. I hope I will never be one of those who forgets to acknowledge and respect the long struggle that has been going on to give children access to excellent books with diverse protagonists, many of whom appear in Donna’s academic treatises. But Donna wasn’t content only with writing about the past. She was the co-founder of Cornucopia of Rhode Island, an association dedicated to diversity; and an active member of the American Library Association, Rhode Island Library Association, the Association of Library and Information Science Educators. ​

Last fall, when we visited her at a center that cared for the elderly, she was as forthright and strong and full of ideas as ever. She told us she was planning to do a series of interviews, showcasing the lives and experiences of families raising children of color in Rhode Island. We were on her list, she said, and if she survived the illness she was battling, she’d be calling us. Unfortunately, I instead received a call last December from her beloved sister, Joan Pratt, to let me know that Donna had passed away. 

On a cold and grey morning, my husband and daughter joined me for the graveside service at New Fernwood Cemetery, Kingston. At Donna’s funeral service, I listened as her compositions were played. Donna had planned everything, down to the last detail, Joan told us. It didn’t surprise me. Donna was nothing if not organized and efficient - as her tomes clearly prove. 

Her contributions to our field may not be quite as widely recognized as they should be - especially in this day and age of social media (which she wasn’t fond of at all). But through this short personal tribute, I wanted, in at least a small way, to respectfully record her dedication, commmitment and perseverance to raising and amplifying marginalized voices in the world of young people’s literature. ​

I was excited to find out that Federico, Jamie Jo and Ari and their Intersectional stories were selected by the organizers to highlight the opening session of the Summit on Thursday February 29, 2024.

You are in for a treat.

I have read all three novels and can report with enthusiasm that all three books represent quality literature and an exploration into characters with dynamic, captivating voices.

Below you will find a brief introduction to each book. I have included links so that you can explore each author on your own. Also, I recommend that you purchase the books right away.

From Amazon​:

PEDRO & DANIEL is a sweeping and deeply personal novel about two brothers who are there for each other when no one else is.

Pedro and Daniel are Mexican American brothers growing up in 1970s Ohio. Their mother resents that Pedro is a spitting image of their darker-skinned father, that Daniel likes dolls, that neither boy plays sports.

Together, they experience joy and laughter, despite an abusive home life, coming out, first loves, first jobs, and the AIDS pandemic, in a coming-of-age story unlike any other.

Steve's brief comment. 

I found this book to be a tight profile of two brothers growing up in a difficult home environment. It was personally intriguing, because, like the characters, I grew up during the same time period, more or less. I remember the referenced events and the timeline of the revelation of aids crisis. Federico writes honestly and openly about the trails of growing up with an abusive mother while coming to terms with his sexual identity.

It is a beautiful read, but not often an easy one if, as a reader, you are honest with your personal emotions. 

From Amazon: 
​
​San Jose, 1999. Jane knows her Vietnamese dad can’t control his temper. Lost in a stupid daydream, she forgot to pick up her seven-year-old brother, Paul, from school. Inside their home, she hands her dad the stick he hits her with. This is how it’s always been. She deserves this. Not because she forgot to pick up Paul, but because at the end of the summer she’s going to leave him when she goes away to college. As Paul retreats inward, Jane realizes she must explain where their dad’s anger comes from. The problem is, she doesn’t quite understand it herself.

Đà Nẵng, 1975. Phúc (pronounced /fo͞ok/, rhymes with duke) is eleven the first time his mother walks him through a field of mines he’s always been warned never to enter. Guided by cracks of moonlight, Phúc moves past fallen airplanes and battle debris to a refugee boat. But before the sun even has a chance to rise, more than half the people aboard will perish. This is only the beginning of Phúc’s perilous journey across the Pacific, which will be fraught with Thai pirates, an unrelenting ocean, starvation, hallucination, and the unfortunate murder of a panda.

Told in the alternating voices of Jane and Phúc, My Father, The Panda Killer is an unflinching story about war and its impact across multiple generations, and how one American teenager forges a path toward accepting her heritage and herself.

Steve's brief comment.

I tend to gravitate to novels with double narratives, especially when they are well written. I went to high school in the US as the Viet Nam was waning. A sat with a draft number, but didn't experience the draft. I watched as older neighbors went to war and came back or didn't. 

The first house I bought was in low income neighborhood and my fabulous neighbors were an extended Vietnamese family. An older couple and several of their married children. We shared the building of a fence, fireworks, Christmas cookies from us and egg rolls from them.

Jamie Jo Hoang is exactly right, the story of the Vietnamese people, those who stayed and those you left, is untold. 

My Father, the Panda Killer, is a nice start in treating the American reader to a large version of the Vietnamese experience as the conflict ends and people try to recover and build new lives. This novel is a strong narrative that covers an important topic in American history and adds neglected voices that need to be heard.

From Amazon Reviews: 

Saints of the Household is a haunting contemporary YA about an act of violence in a small-town--beautifully told by a debut Indigenous Costa Rican-American writer--that will take your breath away.

Max and Jay have always depended on one another for their survival. Growing up with a physically abusive father, the two Bribri American brothers have learned that the only way to protect themselves and their mother is to stick to a schedule and keep their heads down.

But when they hear a classmate in trouble in the woods, instinct takes over and they intervene, breaking up a fight and beating their high school's star soccer player to a pulp. This act of violence threatens the brothers' dreams for the future and their beliefs about who they are. As the true details of that fateful afternoon unfold over the course of the novel, Max and Jay grapple with the weight of their actions, their shifting relationship as brothers, and the realization that they may be more like their father than they thought. They'll have to reach back to their Bribri roots to find their way forward.

Told in alternating points of view using vignettes and poems, debut author Ari Tison crafts an emotional, slow-burning drama about brotherhood, abuse, recovery, and doing the right thing.

Steve's brief comment.
 
As many readers know, I was on a sabbatical from the blog for nearly two years. As I began paying closer attention to reviews and new releases, Saints of the House Hold was one of the first books that caught my attention.

This book is well deserving of all of the awards it has won and it should win more.

It was a fabulous reintroduction to quality Young Adult Literature. Both Jay and Max are characters that will and should be remembered. The plot is masterful and the characters are fantastic. Missing this book is the real crime.

Again, sign up for the conference and hear what this incredible panel of authors has to say.