I picked up this book knowing little about it, but I came away loving it. Despite the strong YA-ness of it in places, it tells its story beautifully and rounds the characters out in really compelling ways.
Camino and Yahaira live in two different worlds. Camino lives in a small village in the Dominican Republic, where she helps her aunt, the local healer, and waits for her dad in the U.S. to call her on video chat. Yahaira, also Dominican, is a former chess champ living in New York with her parents. However, both girls become bound together through a tragedy, a crashed plane making its way from New York to the Dominican Republic, and neither will ever be the same again.
I’ll start by admitting that the plot itself isn’t terribly revolutionary. Not sure about younger readers, but I myself figured out where things were heading pretty early on. But this book is a great example of the principle “it’s not what you do, it’s how you do it,” because the predictable notes within it really don’t detract from my interest in the book at all. Even when I guessed what was going to happen, I was still invested in the characters and how they were going to react as events moved along.
Both Camino and Yahaira are wonderfully drawn. We see the universal touchstones between them in the midst of how different the trappings of their lives are. In the differences between them, huge elements of privilege and opportunity are at play. On the island, Camino knows what a slender thread of protection separates her from Xero, a predatory man who’s known for conscripting girls her age for sex work, and she dreams of getting away to the States and joining her dad when she goes to college. But the dangerous and frightening parts of Camino’s life don’t mean that Yahaira’s life in New York is thus painless and easy, just as Yahaira’s more fortunate upbringing by comparison doesn’t mean that Camino’s life is nothing but poverty and struggle. The book allows the lives of both girls to be nuanced and complicated, and as more ties are drawn between them, those complexities weave themselves into stunning patterns.
Author Elizabeth Acevedo writes the book entirely in free verse poetry, hopping between the Dominican Republic and New York as the girls take turns on leading the narrative. The way it’s written reminds me a little of a sung-through musical, in that there are a couple distinct varieties of narrative style within the poetry. Some feel like distinct thematic pullouts, a “break” from the action to explore ideas captured through introspective monologues while still threading in elements of the plot (for a musical comparison, think “Green Finch and Linnet Bird” from Sweeney Todd or “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” from Jesus Christ Superstar.) Others are more plot-driven, moving the story forward in a way that still incorporates the beauty/musicality of the poetic devices Acevedo uses (like “Aaron Burr, Sir” from Hamilton or “Happy New Year” from RENT.) In order to tell a story while taking full advantage of the poetic writing style, you need both kinds, and Acevedo balances the two with a deft hand.
Warnings
Sexual content (mostly discussed/implied rather than shown,) language, scenes of violence (including sexual assault,) and strong thematic elements.
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