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On Bridges and Pam Muñoz Ryan's Mañanaland

Bridge Constructor, the iPad game, has only 367 reviews. This odd little game gives users a span between two land masses and some materials (some of which might be inadequate to the task). The task? Build a bridge. Once completed, the bridge might look good, but the real test comes when the user crosses his/her fingers and sends a truck trundling across. If the bridge bears the weight of the truck, success! If not, the bridge and the truck collapse into the abyss. Perhaps you are not surprised it has not had wider appeal.


Living in a river town with numerous bridges, I have spent my life trusting these structures. For the most part, I've not considered the complexity required to actually build one. I have, however, considered how different my daily life would be without them. In Pam Muñoz Ryan's latest, Mañanaland, the main character, Max, lives with his Papá and Buelo, both respected stonemasons and bridge builders. Their small village of Santa Maria is known as "the land of a hundred bridges," and throughout the book, we are reminded of the creativity and compassion, the complexity and necessity of a bridge well built.

Muñoz Ryan is not afraid of language - whether it is sprinklings of Spanish or bridge engineering terminology, readers are treated to a story that feels at once foreign and familiar, informative and imaginative, depending on your background. Some may already know what a spandrel wall or a caja sorpresa is; others may be familiar with the taste of a leche quemada or need no translation of favor con favor se paga; regardless of your background, however, this tale will enchant you and leave you feeling like you are standing on top of a bridge, looking out into vast and unforeseeable goodness.


Early on, Buelo explains

"The new bridge will allow one side of the river to safely hold hands with the other . . ."

and Max finishes with

"First things first, then stone by stone. That's how to accomplish anything well."

Papá is proud of Max, but he worries, and he wants Max to focus on what is practical, what is safe, the things that are grounded in the realities of today. Buelo, on the other hand, encourages Max's love of stories, inspiring him to dream of secret bridges guarded by a special gatekeeper, one who may be able to help find things that have been lost, who may be able to guide you to the place where you can hold tomorrow in the palm of your hand.


Max is an average boy, beloved by his family, missing his mother who disappeared when he was a baby, hoping to make the village fútbol team, hoping for a happy ending. Just as she weaves the languages of bridges and villages, Muñoz Ryan also weaves in moments of magical realism, an uncommon element in Middle Grades fiction where things are usually either fantasy or not, science fiction or not. Mañanaland is all of the above. It is true and make-believe, about a boy and about all of us, and above all else about uncertainty and hope.


In today's cultural climate, it is very easy to feel like those inexperienced bridge builders. All we have is the span between us and the fact that our materials may be inadequate. But as Buelo and Max remind us, the only way to accomplish anything well is stone by stone. The only way to hold hands across a river is just as Papá says:

"It's just people helping people."

We may not know anything about keystones or revetments, but we can all do that.

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The 2021 Newbery Medal selection committee spends the whole year considering titles. As always, I will be reading and reviewing along with the committee, keeping one eye on today's young readers and the other eye on each book's prospects. After each review, I'll offer my one-sentence take (OST) on medal-worthiness.


OST: There will be lots of talk about this one, and some will fight hard for its unique message and method.


Previous titles under consideration:


 

The best books spark the best conversations! If you have thoughts to share, please feel free to email me at sarabethwest52@gmail.com. I promise a reply.

Every Wednesday, I send out something of a hodgepodge of ideas, a gathering of thoughts on books, culture, and unexpected moments of joy. Sign up here to stay in the loop!

On Art and Lisa Gerlits' A Many Feathered Thing

Currently, just outside my window, there are five reddish house finches, a mourning dove, and a chickadee, each vying for a spot at the feeders, even though there is ample room for them all.


Even without countless birds outside their window, most children know the joy of finding a nest, the way we tangentially (and from a distance) care for it, keeping periodic watch on the life-to-be inside. Every adult who's seen it knows there is something utterly humbling about a feathers-wet bird. The fragility alone is enough to shatter a full-grown human. What if it is harmed, what if it wasn't ready, what if it never gets its spot on the feeder? But also, what if it does?


In those ripe, raw moments, it has the hope of the universe in it.


So, too, with an author's first book. There is a thrum of energy around a debut. The sheer delight of the author shines through in every page, and we all get to share in the excitement of discovering this great new thing that has been brought into the world. With A Many Feathered Thing, Lisa Gerlits has delivered a debut that is finely crafted, wrought with tenderness and care, and fully equal to the work of our most established writers for young readers.

First it must be noted that the book is beautiful. Rosanna Tasker's cover and illustrations are perfect and worthy of their own moments of celebration. Especially for readers who love birds (and there are many of us), the cover will do the important work of helping this book get seen, so it can then be read. And oh, it should be read. Gerlits introduces us to Clara (or Clarity or CT), 11 years old and feeling the tumult of being in the middle: of her older sister and baby brother; of everything changing while everything stays exactly the same; and of figuring out how to be the artist she is made to be. There's no easy way to reduce Clara to a sound bite, and no good reason to reduce art to a synopsis. It all starts when Clara and her best friend, Orion, accidentally damage something that belongs to their terrifying old neighbor, Mr. Vogelman. They know they must do the responsible thing, but how? Clara is an artist and believes an artist must suffer to be great, so she decides to do all the hard things, starting with apologizing to Mr. Vogelman. Once she does, everything begins, and Clara learns to trust herself and her vision and her voice.


Along the way, Clara learns that in art, it is not enough to simply look at your subject. You have to look and look and look again until your subject takes on a depth of reality and nuance that changes you and your understanding. The looking and the understanding are all tied up together with humility and uncertainty. Whether in drawing, painting, sculpture, or collage; dance or drama, engineering or stories, this book reminds us that despite the uncertainty -- perhaps because of the uncertainty -- every creative act is a declaration of hope.


Be warned: this book is not without some sadness. There are hard times because Clara and the people around her are real, and hard things happen to real people. But there is hope. And that is why we are all here.


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The 2021 Newbery Medal selection committee spends the whole year considering titles. As always, I will be reading and reviewing along with the committee, keeping one eye on today's young readers and the other eye on each book's prospects. After each review, I'll offer my one-sentence take on medal-worthiness.


SBW's take: I am going to do everything in my power to get this book seen and read because I believe it has that kind of potential.


Previous titles under consideration:

 

The best books spark the best conversations! If you have thoughts to share, please feel free to email me at sarabethwest52@gmail.com. I promise a reply.

Every Wednesday, I send out something of a hodgepodge of ideas, a gathering of thoughts on books, culture, and unexpected moments of joy. Sign up here to stay in the loop!

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