by Sam Juliano
I Am Heathcliff – Catherine Earnshaw, Wuthering Heights
Centuries ago long names were all the rage. The immortal composer Mozart was actually baptized as Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilis Mozart, but that’s small potatoes compared to the great Spanish painter Picasso whose full name was “Pablo Diego Jose Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno Maria de los Remedios cipriando de la Santisimo Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso.” Long names are associated with reverence, respect and as a tribute to family members dating back generations, many of whom made a difference in the upbringing and maturation of their offspring. Those children sporting extended names may well at some early stage inquire about their origins and a parent’s full disclosure is one of those indelible moments in a life one can deem priceless. In Juana Martinez-Neal’s affectionate and moving debut picture book as author-illustrator, Alma and How She Got Her Name is a loving chronicle of familial connection, spurred by curiosity but leading to an understanding of the past and the people who molded their children, grandchildren and nieces. In Martinez-Neal’s stirring homage it is revealed that every part of this hereditary equation brings to bear a quality into a melting pot of positive traits and convictions. Once the back stories are revealed the names take on an even more special meaning. Martinez-Neal’s graphite, colored pencils and print transfers on handmade textured paper seems the ideal way to negotiate a story mainly set in the past, and what with old photo illustrations there is a scrapbook quality in the presentation. Accentuating this aspect is parched beige and pink, which underline gender and a deep emotional current.
Wearing the most ubiquitous red and white striped pants in children’s literature Alma is immediately portrayed as one perplexed by her long name after Martinez-Neal emphasizes her apparel design marvelously on the end paper and frontispiece. She tells her father that her name just isn’t workable, to which this all-too-willing patriarch pulls down a book from a shelf and resolves to tell her the story of her name. Young readers will surely pick up that a few books and even a piggy bank sport the word “Peru” rendering immediate place identification for her ancestry. First up her father turns to the page showing a photo of his own mother and Alma’s grandmother Sophie, whom is framed as “loving poetry, books, jasmine flowers…and of course…me.” Sophie taught Alma’s Dad how to read too of course. Martinez-Neal beautifully decorates the page of Dad and daughter with a jasmine flower vine which also appears on the time worn photo of mom, lovingly drawn by the artist in grainy, pink color-tinged monochrome. The realization spread that follows is magnificent. Sophie makes the connection that she too loves books and flowers and of course her dear father, and she is pictured sitting on a pile of books grasping a jasmine vine which extends all around her in symbolic kinship with her loving and cultural grandmother. Even the pot from which the vine extends is ornately etched. But again the pink is resplendently incorporated into the spread. Realizing Sophia’s role in shaping their lives she echoes what Catherine Earnshaw said in Emily Bronte’s literary classic Wuthering Heights, uttering words that proclaim her grandmother is part of her. Then there is “Esperanza,” her great-grandmother, who is a culture maven who dreamed of traveling but never managed to leave her home town. She settled to have her own heart travel to wherever her sailor-son boated to. Martinez-Neal evokes her as a passionate collector of dolls and ornaments in a marvelous depiction of her sitting in an over-sized chair in a wondrous living room. In a subsequent make-shift map marked by red string Alma declares he wants to travel the world with her father and that Esperanza too is a part of her own fabric. (“I am Esperanza.”)
Next up is Jose, Alma’s paternal grandfather, an artist who taught her Dad how “to see and love our people.” His artistic inclination was also passed down to his granddaughter in this thinly veiled autobiographical tale. Alma wakes up early to draw and displays her creations on a clothes line. When she asserts “I am Jose” you know this is verisimilitude to her core. Again Martinez-Neal’s nostalgic evocation is lovingly sketched in earthy pencil drawings. It seems every family has one like “Pura”, Alma’s great-aunt who is always attuned to the benevolent spirits of one’s diseased ancestors, whom she keeps relevant with charms and candles. Alma connects with her with a simple greeting, Hello, Pura! It’s me, Alma! in ghostly minimalism, where bottled candles hang from above. Alma’s maternal grandmother, Candela, was vigilant on social rights, one advocating her friends and associates to think and listen. Martinez-Neal depicts Alma’s father as an advocate in her commitment to the cause. Alma proudly proclaims with a placard “I am Candela!” standing by her grandma’s call for justice and adding her to the previous family members who will have impacted and later defined her own life. Alma confesses she adored the story of her life and then asks about the origin of “Alma.” Dad tells her he picked the name, and as she is now the only one with that name she will forge her own story. Emblazoned across from a now enlightened Alma are the names of those whose attributes will dictate who she will become: Alma, Sophia, Esperanza, Jose, Pura, Candela. She proudly holds a book titled “Mi historia” in a drawn photo of herself. A closing note from “Juana” who of course is the book’s talented author-illustrator documents her own birth, ancestry and coming of age. It reveals she was born in Lima, Peru, and that her name, initially thought to be (by her) “too old-fashioned, harsh, ugly and way too-Spanish name” in her city would be especially unique and appreciated in the United States. Finally she advises readers: What is the story of your name? What story would you like to tell? The lovely blue pastel inside cover showcases Alma holding the book of her own name and it’s origin.
Martinez-Neal’s first picture book (she has illustrator other books she didn’t author like the sublime La Princessa and The Pea) is an unqualified success and a profound tribute to family, upbringing and self-confidence. It proclaims that everyone matters, and that we are often defined by those whose lives we crossed though real-life encounter or by sworn testimony by those whose imparting unconditional love in our direction. Alma and How She Got Her Name is one of the year’s most moving and beautifully illustrated works. For the Caldecott committee it should be front and center during deliberations.
Note: This is the twenty-seventh entry in the 2018 Caldecott Medal Contender series. The annual venture does not purport to predict what the committee will choose, rather it attempts to gauge what the writer feels should be in the running. In most instances the books that are featured in the series have been touted as contenders in various online round-ups, but for the ones that are not, the inclusions are a humble plea to the committee for consideration. It is anticipated the series will include in the neighborhood of around 25 titles; the order which they are being presented in is arbitrary, as every book in this series is a contender. Some of my top favorites of the lot will be done near the end. The awards will be announced in late January, hence the reviews will continue until around the middle of that month.
A very enjoyable book, Sam, especially for those of us who have never payed any serious attention to the familial past. Nice to ponder how those relatives figured in our lives. Lucky children, who are inspired to find out about ancestors.
This book gave me a lump in my throat. Lovely art and a subject almost everyone can relate to. Outstanding review!
And we have a winner! Great book and fantastic review!
I LOVE that “I Am Heathcliff” reference lead. And so appropriate. Wonderful book and worthy winner. Great review!