Review: Down to the Bone

Dole, Mayra Lazara. Down to the Bone. HarperCollins, 2008.

Laura and Marlena have kept their love a secret for two years out of necessity. They have both witnessed a lot of homophobia in the Miami Latino community where lesbians are derisively referred to as tortilleras. Laura fears rejection from her traditional Cuban-American mother, and Marlena, from her extended Puerto Rican family, should anyone learn about the joy they find in being together both physically and emotionally.

When Sister Asunción intercepts a love letter from Marlena to Laura in her Catholic school classroom, she outs Laura to her classmates, the school principal, and to her mother. Because the two girls have always used affectionate nicknames for each other, no one knows who wrote the letter, and Laura isn’t talking. Her mother, furious and humiliated, kicks Laura out of their home until she is ready to reveal the name of the other girl and act “normal.”

Laura’s best friend, Soli, and her mother, Viva, take her in and become her new family. Laura has been kicked out of her old school, and decides, at age 16, to drop out all together. She gets a full-time job in Marlena’s uncle’s landscaping business, where she witnesses on-the-job homophobia from one of the men in her work crew. It’s not aimed at Laura — no one at work knows she’s a lesbian — but rather at their butch co-worker, Jaylene, and at Tazer, the trans son of the wealthy man they’ve been hired to work for.

And then the worst possible thing happens: Laura gets the news that Marlena, who has returned to Puerto Rico, is engaged to be married. After all she’s been through, and all of their promises to each other that they would some how find a way to be together, Laura feels hurt, angry, and betrayed. Luckily, she has Soli and Viva for support as she recovers from the break-up.

Since she doesn’t want anyone else but Marlena, Laura eventually decides to follow suit and begins dating a man who has been courting her, hoping desperately that she’ll fall in love with him, and win back her mother’s love. Try as she might, she can only pretend to feel anything when she’s with him, despite the fact that he is falling hard for her. In the meantime, Tazer pursues her, too, but she feels absolutely no attraction to him, either, as anything more than a friend. And then there’s Gisela, the beautiful woman who’s been making eyes at her. Laura’s pulse quickens every time she sees her. She can’t avoid the fact that she is indeed a lesbian, down to the bone. And she doesn’t want to be anyone else.

Depressing, right? It’s hilarious! Because, in spite of the dire turn of events, Down to the Bone is truly a funny novel. As I was reading along, I often caught myself thinking, “How can I be laughing at these things when I should be crying?” I’m not quite sure how Mayra Lazara Dole managed to wring such humor out of this story. Partly, it’s her breezy style and the wry dialog. And partly, it’s Laura’s point of view. Through all her adversity, she maintains her sense of humor and an optimistic outlook on life. She’s a survivor who is determined to be happy, even if it means making those she cares about unhappy. She does what so many queer kids have to do — she finds her own community and creates a family of her own.

It’s great to see a new lesbian novel from a up-and-coming author with a fresh, funny, and original voice. I hope this will be the first of many novels from Mayra Lazara Dole.

Interview with Lucía Moreno

The Wow! Women on Writing website has a wonderful interview with Lucía Moreno, the founder of Topka Books, in honor of Small Press Month. One of the things Lucía mentions in discussing why she started her own publishing company is the squeamishness of corporate presses in Spain when it comes to picture books about kids with two moms or two dads. (We seem to have that problem here in the U.S., too.) She has now published four picture books featuring kids in lesbian families; all are bilingual (Spanish/English). As soon as my copies arrive in the mail, I’ll review them on this blog.

Topka also publishes books about kids with disabilities, multiracial families, single-parent families, and adoptive families. We get requests all the time for books on these topics, so they will find a welcome home in libraries, schools, and households in the United States. Happily, Topka makes international orders really easy.

In Character: Harriet the Spy

Neva Grant’s latest episode of her Morning Edition series “In Character” looks at my favorite literary character, Harriet the Spy. She asked me to talk about Harriet as a lesbian role model and, of course, I happily obliged. If you missed her report on NPR this morning, you can read the transcript or listen to the broadcast here.

You can find out more about Harriet and company at my Louise Fitzhugh Tribute Site.

Review: Twelve Long Months

Malloy, Brian. Twelve Long Months. Scholastic, 2008.

Brian Malloy joins a growing list of authors of adult fiction who have turned their talents toward writing for young adults. Not every adult author has succeeded in this genre. For some reason, gay authors seem to have a greater than average success rate. Perhaps it’s because adolescence, for many of us, was so unforgettable that we can still tap into the emotions connected with our own period of self-discovery and the search for a soul mate. We can never really forget what those vulnerable teen years were like, much as we might like to.

Malloy’s first novel for teens is written from the point of view of a straight teenage girl, Molly Swain, who has fallen hard for Mark Dahl, a high school classmate who is brooding, gorgeous, and, admittedly, way out of her league. They are lab partners in a senior chemistry class and, in spite of the fact that Molly does Mark’s homework for him and lets him copy her exam answers, he never has much more to say to her than “Sup?” She fantasizes about Mark constantly, and she has plenty of time for fantasy because she has no social life outside of school — not that there’s much of a chance for a social life in Le Sueur, Minnesota, a small town famous for its now-defunct Green Giant canning plant.

Molly is an excellent student who wins a full scholarship to Columbia University where she plans to major in her favorite subject, physics. She is eager to leave Le Sueur behind her, especially when she hears that Mark is also heading east to work in his uncle’s house painting business in Montclair, New Jersey. As two kids from the same small town, Mark and Molly begin to hang out together in Manhattan, a dream come true for Molly, especially when Mark begins to crash regularly in her dorm room, rather than to take the long train ride home to Montclair in the middle of the night. They even share her single bed on these occasions. Mark always sleeps soundly, spooned up against Molly, who, not surprisingly, can’t sleep a wink.

The two become such close friends that Mark eventually tells her something that he’s never been able to confide in anyone else: he’s gay. Molly, crushed, doesn’t want to believe it. But she’s such a good friend that, against her better judgment, she agrees to accompany Mark to a gay club that he’s too shy to go to on his own. Seeing Mark interact with other gay men makes it possible for Molly to begin to accept the truth, even though she still feels deeply in love with him. She begins dating a fellow physics major and, although they have a lot in common, she never has the depth of feeling for him that she has for Mark. This is a girl who can carry a torch as big as the the Statue of Liberty’s.

The twelve long months referenced in the title go from May to the following April, representing how long it takes for Molly to work through her unrequited love for Mark. For readers, the months pass quickly because Molly is a genuinely interesting character, as are her new college friends, Lily and Jessie, and even her matrix-theory obsessed boyfriend, Simon. And Mark is a marvelously complex character in his own right. Readers will figure out that he is gay long before Molly does, and that makes her slow realization all the more agonizing.

In a sense, Molly is going through her own coming-out process — she transforms herself from an insecure, small-town wallflower to a self-confident, sophisticated New Yorker. Over the course of the year she learns that she is not unlovable, fat, and ugly, as she has always seen herself, but is instead an intelligent, independent young woman, worthy of love and friendship. “I’m the daughter-of-a-bastard truck driver from the Valley of the fucking Green Giant, and I’m not gonna take it anymore!” she boldly proclaims by the story’s end. Damn straight!

The Year So Far…

2008 is shaping up to be an excellent year for LGBTQ lit for kids and teens. The books just keep pouring in. I’m half-way through an excellent new book by Brian Malloy called Twelve Long Months (watch this space for the soon-to-be posted review).

Another first novel just came across my desk this morning and I’m eager to read it, too. It’s a lesbian novel with an all-Latino cast called Down to the Bone by Mayra Lazara Dole. I’ve just added Mayra’s blog to my blogroll so stop by and welcome her to the neighborhood. And here’s hoping the book is as witty and irreverent as her blog entries.

I still have some 2007 books to review. I haven’t forgotten them and I’ll to get back to them as soon as the stream of 2008 books slows down a bit.

Review: Debbie Harry Sings in French

Brothers, Meagan. Debbie Harry Sings in French. Henry Holt, 2008.

Johnny’s path to self-destruction is diverted when his mother sends him to live with his uncle in South Carolina. At 16, he’s already been through rehab for alcoholism, and his stoner friends seem poised to pull him right back into his old habits. But Johnny’s move gives him the opportunity to re-invent himself, and to explore his secret fascination with Debbie Harry, the lead singer of the punk rock/new wave band Blondie that was popular nearly 30 years earlier.

Although he is frequently called “faggot” at school due to his small stature and the fact that he wears eye liner, Johnny is pretty sure he isn’t gay. But he’s not quite sure what it means that he wants to be Debbie Harry — to dress like her and have hair like hers. He wants to be both tough and beautiful. He finally confesses his secret desires to his girlfriend, Maria, when the two are out shopping together for vintage clothing. Maria is completely into Johnny’s interest in cross-dressing, and she remakes a silky dress Johnny buys so that it will fit him. She also teaches him to walk in stilettos.

Maria talks Johnny into driving to Atlanta to compete in a drag queen competition. Midst the Chers, Janet Jacksons and Tina Turners, Johnny is the only Debbie Harry. He is the obvious crowd-pleaser when he lip-syncs to “Heart of Glass,” and he catches the eye of the butch club owner who makes a blatant pass at Johnny, something that confuses him even more. And to further complicate his life, everyone else thinks Johnny is gay. Even Maria is beginning to question who he is when she sees him dancing with the club owner.

Meagan Brothers’ first novel is original but perhaps overly ambitious. It suffers from a few too many social problems that threaten to obscure Johnny’s identity search. I’d have preferred fewer problems and more dresses, shoes, and public drag.

At its core, however, it’s an unusual portrait of a teenage cross-dresser grappling with his sexuality. Johnny is a likable character who is refreshingly non-homophobic and open to exploration. What does it mean that he likes to wear dresses? Is he gay, straight, or somewhere in-between? What’s the difference between being transgender and being a transvestite? All are questions that have not been frequently explored in literature for teens, and this is a welcome foray into uncharted territory.

A Picture Book Mystery?

While prowling around for forthcoming LGBTQ books, I came across a picture book by Kathleen Abel called A Smile So Big, illustrated by Jane Dyer, to be published by Harcourt in 2008. The summary sounds promising: A young girl helps plan her mother’s commitment ceremony to her female partner.

Now the plot thickens…

When I went to Amazon to verify the publication date, I found a book with the same title, author, publisher, and plot summary, illustrated by Trina Schart Hyman, with a publication year of 2005. But the book obviously never came out; Trina died, tragically, in November 2004.

So it looks like we came this close |–| to having a lesbian picture book illustrated by the great Trina Schart Hyman.

Levithan in PW

The February 18 issue of Publisher’s Weekly has a profile of our own David Levithan, with the odd title “The Happy Editor-Writer.” (Happy, as in gay?)

He talks, among other things, about the upcoming movie version of Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist, in which he and Rachel Cohn have a Hitchcockesque cameo role. I can’t wait!

Gay Literature for Young Children

The latest issue of Bookbird has an excellent article by Kay Chick entitled “Fostering an Appreciation for All Kinds of Families: Picture Books with Gay and Lesbian Themes.” The article provides an overview of most picture books published in the United States since Heather Has Two Mommies and Daddy’s Roommate.

The author makes the interesting observation that there are no siblings in any of the gay and lesbian picture books. She’s right — even Tango was an only child.

Most of the books she cites are U.S. publications, which is rather odd in a journal of international literature. I had hoped to find out about some great picture books published outside the United States. Perhaps we would even find a sibling or two with an expanded world view.

Gaywatch: After Tupac & D Foster

Woodson, Jacqueline. After Tupac & D Foster. Putnam, 2008.

Although Jacqueline Woodson is an out lesbian writer, she hasn’t written many novels for children or teens with gay or lesbian protagonists. When she does include a gay character in one of her books, it’s usually as part of the ordinary fabric of everyday life. That’s the sort of character we see in her latest novel.

Neeka and her best friend (the unnamed narrator of the story) have known each other since they’ve been babies. They’ve grown up across the street from each other in Queens, and now that they are both twelve, they’re eager to spread their wings a bit and see some of the world beyond their block. That proves to be difficult because their mothers keep such tight reins on them.

So the world must come to them, and it does so in two ways: through the music of Tupac Shakur, and through D Foster, a girl who literally wanders into their world and becomes their friend. D is a foster child from outside their neighborhood who has been allowed to roam. To her, Neeka and her friend have a perfect life: a nice house, friendly neighborhood, parents who care. And to the other girls, D has the sort of freedom they’d like to have. All three girls love Tupac and identify with his music on different levels.

The one area where the girls are critical of Tupac is with his occasional homophobic lyrics. Deeka’s oldest brother, Tash, is gay.

Tash was a true-blue sissy and wasn’t afraid to let the world know it. Look at me, he always used to say. I can walk in heels better than any of these real girls out here, so if somebody wants to holler about it, I ain’t gonna deny. Even though he didn’t really wear heels, everything about him said Queen–from his whispery way of talking to his swishy walk to his beautifully shaped eyebrows.

The entire family is very protective of Tash, ready to take on anyone who talks trash about him. Tash is doing time in prison for a crime he didn’t commit. One of the most moving scenes in the book is when the whole family takes the three-hour bus ride to visit him in prison. Delicate, caring and witty, Tash strikes us as a beautiful bird in a cage. When his mother warns him not to “act sissyish” around his younger brothers, he tells her: “Mama. I’m in jail. Give me a little bit of joy. I ain’t hurting nobody. I ain’t never tried to hurt nobody who wasn’t hurting me first. I know who I am and you know who I am and every one of these kids knows who I am, Ain’t that good enough?”

Equally moving is the scene several month later when Tash returns from prison.

I saw Tash walking up the street. When he got to the men’s table, he stopped and said hi to a few of them. I could see one of them get up and give him a hug. Two of the other men made faces at each other. As he walked away, I heard one of them say Glad you home, Tash. The two men who had made the face leaned into each other, said something, and then laughed. And something about their laughter, the hollow way it echoed down the block, the way Tash tried to walk a little straighter and taller away from it, made me take some small breaths and press my fingernails into my hands to keep from feeling the sadness that filled me up.

While there is much more going on this novel than the relationship between Tash and his family and friends, the poignant portrayal of this queenly older brother is significant in the context of children’s literature. Characters such as Tash are most frequently stereotyped and ridiculed in popular media, and are all together absent in children’s books. It’s refreshing to see such a well-developed secondary gay character.

Tupac’s views of the world are frequently quoted and dissected by the young African-American girls in the story who are struggling to figure out their own places in a world that’s hostile to them and to those they love. Woodson directly confronts rap’s notorious homophobia by putting some words of wisdom into her own characters’ mouths: “Sometimes when the rappers started going on and on about how much they hated homos, me and Neeka would turn the TV off. We didn’t really talk about why — just both of us knew that crap was hard on the ear when the homos they were hating on was your own family.”