Marcus Vega doesn't speak Spanish

Pablo Cartaya

Book - 2018

After a fight at school leaves Marcus facing suspension, Marcus's mother takes him and his younger brother, who has Down syndrome, to Puerto Rico to visit relatives they do not remember or have never met, and while there Marcus starts searching for his father, who left their family ten years ago and is somewhere on the island.

Saved in:

Children's Room Show me where

jFICTION/Cartaya, Pablo
1 / 2 copies available
Location Call Number   Status
Children's Room jFICTION/Cartaya, Pablo Checked In
Children's Room jFICTION/Cartaya Pablo Due Oct 1, 2024
Subjects
Genres
Domestic fiction
Published
New York, New York : Viking 2018.
Language
English
Main Author
Pablo Cartaya (author)
Physical Description
249 pages ; 22 cm
ISBN
9781101997284
9781101997260
Contents unavailable.
Review by New York Times Review

How can middle schoolers be themselves, but still find their people? These books search for an answer. of the many strange paradoxes that bedevil our tween years - years that most of us would never, ever wish to relive - few perplex more thoroughly than the tension between wanting to be a confident, competent, standout individual, while at the same time yearning with a desire almost beyond expression to be accepted into a community, a group, a team, a club, a clique - anything. That old American saw about selfreliance may be compelling in an Emerson essay, but it doesn't hold up well when you're in a school cafeteria, holding a tray loaded with soggy burritos, looking for the friendly place to sit without seeming to be looking for the friendly place to sit. And it's this paradox that looms large in these new novels, each of which suggests the extraordinary complexity of negotiating this tension between individuality and community. The journey toward resolution, these authors suggest, is more inward than most middle schoolers might imagine. june harper, the rebel librarian of Allison Varnes's property of the rebel librarian (RANDOM HOUSE, 288 PP., $16.99; AGES 8 TO 12), begins her journey with a growing recognition that the extreme, almost bizarre strictures her parents place on her life are more than abnormal, they are unjust. Her growing anger at being expected to remain under their total domination is matched only by her growing anger at her sister, who has fled to college, abandoning June to their fierce control. When her books are taken away from her and later returned, mangled by censorious black pens and mauled by the removal of pages, and when her parents' influence leads to the censorship of the school library and the development of a cadre of young censors, June is thrust into the role of the "rebel librarian," building an underground library in the locker beside her own, and leading an ever-enlarging group of students into a literary revolution against the school administration and, by proxy, her parents. In our censorious times, that battle and the extremes through which it is depicted are enough to keep the pages turning. But - and I'm so sorry to sound like Dumbledore here - it is the choices that June makes about her own life that give this novel its solidity and meaning. In becoming the "rebel librarian," June is turning away from the groups that defined her in the past, which she had hoped would define her in the future. These include her family - which had planned her entire life - her new (and first) boyfriend, and the close friends she has had for years. It is an act of remarkable courage, no less powerful and no less painful because she comes to it incrementally, as she grows more and more committed to her new identity. Because Allison Varnes is a gentle writer - imagine this same scenario in the hands of, say, Robert Cormier - June finds that her new identity actually leads to a new belonging, to other kids who love books as much as she does. Who knew? If the happy ending is a bit too happy, the conclusion still leads you to the gentle thought that negotiating individuality and communality can lead to a satisfying selfrealization. NEITHER PABLO cartaya nor Antony John leaves things quite so easily. In marcus VEGA DOESN'T SPEAK SPANISH (VIKING, 272 PP., $16.99; AGES 8 TO 12), MarCUS, who tOWers physically over his fellow eighth graders, is defined in his school as a bully - mostly because he looks the part. Outside of his family, he doesn't belong in any group because everyone - including some of his teachers - believe his assigned role is all that he is. Even his family group is fractured, however; his father did not come with the family when they left Puerto Rico for Pennsylvania, and they haven't seen him for a decade. But in that fracture, as his mother works long hours to support her two sons, we see what is most true about Marcus: his devotion to his brother, who lives with Down syndrome. The sweet yet unsentimental scenes between them are some of the novel's most powerful. When his mother finds a way to bring them to Puerto Rico for a week, Marcus is thrilled; he will be able to track down and connect with his long-lost father. What he finds is something much larger: an extended family that has been waiting for them all these years, whose love is grace, whose hospitality is a blessing, whose connection is not strained. So when Marcus finally finds his father, he comes to clarity about what his father has done and what his absence has really meant. Despite the pain of this, Marcus knows that he can still live: "I always thought I wanted to see you. ... To let you meet my brother, who is the coolest kid in the world. But you never answered. You never even tried. I just want you to know that you're not the hero in this story." And so, "I put my father away forever." Marcus can say this only out of the strength he has found from a new belonging with his larger family. Cartaya's is a leisurely novel; the pace will not be rushed. In the era of superhero films, this is wonderful - and entirely appropriate for what is, in the end, a love song to the people of Puerto Rico, whose own love and hospitality and acceptance is so vividly portrayed here. It is also a realistic novel. Not all endings are happy. Not all breakage is healed. this realism is what Antony John uses to begin MASCOT (HARPER/HARPERCOLLINS, 336 pp., $16.99; ages 8 to 12). A car accident has paralyzed Noah Savino, and his father, who died in the crash, was at fault.He has lost his sense of self, and he resents the endless therapy sessions that seem to lead nowhere. He fears that the only identity he now has is that of the pathetic kid in the wheelchair. Perhaps worse, he no longer belongs to his St. Louis Little League team. Noah was the star catcher who made the star pitcher so capable. Now, his old teammates mock him, and the pain of that is not particularly lessened by the fact that the new kid to whom Noah seems to have been attached is nicknamed "Double-Wide." Thus Noah begins his journey, knowing that he has lost himself and lost his team and lost his father. Everything, he thinks, is gone, and in his anger and hurt and despair, he embraces that loss. His bitterness will be his new identity. When a teacher rearranges an assignment toward Noah's interests, a lot more suddenly "becomes clear: today's baseball-themed work sheet wasn't for everyone. It was for me. A gift. An attempt to cheer me up. To get me talking again. To remind me of better times. And what did I do? Like a Cardinals fan catching an opponent's home-run ball, I threw it right back at him." The strength and beauty of this novel lie in the ways in which a community gathers around Noah, despite his bitterness. And here, Antony John is relentless in his honesty, for this is a community of broken people: his mother, who is already dealing with the grief of losing her husband; his neighbor, who has lost his spouse, and whom Noah resents for loving his mother; Alyssa, who sees past the wheelchair, but whom Noah had treated badly; DoubleWide, whose honesty and forthrightness bring startling clarity; and his coach's family, for whom Noah will become an instrument of forgiveness. You'll bawl at the ending, because it is so very real. The answer to the middle-grade question of whether we should be self-reliant individuals or part of a larger community is that, in the end, we become both. These three novels shine a light on how difficult it is for a middle-grade kiddo - for any of us - to come to that answer, and how much more difficult it is to embark on the journey that leads to that becoming. gary D. SCHMIDT'S latest book, "So Tall Within: Sojourner Truth's Long Walk Toward Freedom," will be published in September.

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [August 23, 2019]
Review by Booklist Review

Marcus Vega uses his size to his advantage, collecting fees from fellow students who hire him to walk them to and from school, keeping them off of bully Stephen Hobert's radar. The money goes in his mom's emergency stash, which comes in handy when bills pile up. Then Stephen insults Marcus' younger brother, Charlie, with a derogatory term and Marcus gets in serious trouble. For a reprieve, his mom takes Marcus and Charlie on a trip to Puerto Rico to spend time with family; but instead of seeing it as a break, Marcus thinks it's the perfect chance to find the father who abandoned them. There, he meets a supportive community of family, who give him space and encouragement and see him for who he really is. Cartaya does a nice job of portraying Marcus' growth, as well as the importance of his family. In a vivid, frank voice and a rich cast of characters, this warm coming-of-age story offers a loving portrayal of Puerto Rico through the eyes of a relatable boy. Thoughtful and thought provoking.--Selenia Paz Copyright 2018 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

In Springfield, Pa., Marcus, a six-foot tall, 180-pound, mustache-sporting 14-year-old, exploits his appearance to run a bullying protection business, secretly contributing his earnings to his single mom's cash jar. When a conniving school bully calls Marcus's brother, Charlie, who has Down syndrome, the "R" word, Marcus gets suspended for punching him. In an effort to "spend time together as a team," Marcus's mother takes the boys to visit their absent father's relatives in vibrant pre-Hurricane Maria Puerto Rico. Cartaya (The Epic Fail of Arturo Zamora) poignantly sketches Marcus's desire to meet his father ("How do you start an email to a father you haven't seen in ten years?"), and clues about his dad's mercurial, irresponsible character build to a devastating realization. The loneliness of the family's Pennsylvania life contrasts starkly with the community they find in Puerto Rico; the events spark for Marcus a new understanding of his overworked mother and appreciation for his family and heritage, offering hope for deeper connections going forward. Ages 10-up. Agent: Jess Regel, Foundry Literary + Media. (Aug.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 4-7-This middle grade story, set in Pennsylvania and Puerto Rico, pulls together important themes of family, identity, bilingualism, friends, and bullying. Marcus Vega navigates his six-foot-tall, 180-pound frame through middle school while also caring for his younger sibling, Charlie, who has Down Syndrome. Because of his large size, some of his peers consider him to be a monster, or even a bully. When a real bully uses the "R" word in reference to Charlie, Marcus punches him in the jaw. This begins a series of events in which he is expelled from school before spring break, causing his mother to take the boys to Puerto Rico where they are introduced to their father's extended family for the first time. Marcus decides to locate his long-absent father and over the course of five days, readers travel the island with him as he is introduced to its rich flora and fauna, foods, community life, music, and friendliness. Marcus eventually comes to terms with his life challenges, including his own identity. VERDICT An excellent choice for upper elementary and middle grade libraries given its multiple, age-appropriate themes and the window it provides to life in a Puerto Rico before Hurricane María.-Ruth Quiroa, National Louis University, Lisle, IL © Copyright 2018. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review

Fourteen-year-old gentle giant Marcus Vega is devoted to his mom and younger brother, Charlie, who has Down syndrome. One of the ways he helps out is earning extra cash by charging schoolmates protection money to keep them safe from the real bullies. But when one of those bullies calls Charlie retarded, Marcus uses his immense strength to put the bully in his place. The fallout from Marcuss violent act leads to his suspension from school and a family crisis. Marcuss mother decides the family needs a week in Puerto Rico, where Marcus was born and where his absentee fathers relatives still live, to figure things out. Spending time with his extended family and traveling across the Puerto Rican countryside (pre2017s devastating hurricanes, per an introductory authors note) open the young mans eyes to his heritage. As his cultural bonds tighten, Marcus gains a new understanding of his mothers struggles and his own important roles as both son and older brother. Cartayas follow-up to his 2018 Pura Belpr Honor Book The Epic Fail of Arturo Zamora (rev. 7/17) shines in its small moments examining Puerto Ricos unique locales through the eyes of the Vegas. A middle-grade/middle-school travelogue and heartfelt intergenerational story with wide appeal. eric carpenter (c) Copyright 2018. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review

In searching for his absentee father, a biracial boy gets closer to his Puerto Rican roots.Though Marcus Vega was born in Puerto Rico, the 14-year-old hasn't been back since he was 2. Marcus lives outside of Philadelphia with his mom, a white woman, and his little brother, Charlie, who has Down syndrome. Marcus towers over the other kids, and he uses his size to his advantage, walking kids to and from school and stashing their phones in his locker (out of the principal's reach) for cash. After a school bully calls Charlie "the one word that sends [him] into a blind rage," Marcus punches him in the mouth and is suspended. Marcus' mom decides that the three of them should go on a trip to regroup, which is how they find themselves in Puerto Rico looking for the dad Marcus hasn't seen in 10 years, a search that takes them and readers all over the island. Immigrant and first-generation readers will relate to Marcus' feelings of not belonging in Puerto Rico. Marcus' eagerness to reconnect with the father who abandoned him is believably nave and allows him to overlook his relatives' criticisms of his dad, but both they and Cartaya allow him the space to come to his own conclusions. Readers familiar with Puerto Rico may find Marcus' extended family's ease with English a little hard to believe, but it does assist with the narrative flow.A compelling read about the meaning of family, identity, and culture, set in pre-Hurricane Maria Puerto Rico. (Historical fiction. 10-14) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

ONE Monster Business   Most kids clear out of the way when I walk down the hall. They're like campers in a forest who spot a grizzly and scramble up a tree to hide. (Or, in this case, climb into a locker.) I've been called the Mastodon of Montgomery Middle, the Springfield Skyscraper, the Moving Mountain, the Terrible Tower, the . . . You get the idea. These names bothered me in sixth grade when I was excited to start middle school and make friends. But now, in eighth grade, my size has become a profit center. And business is booming. Take these two kids sitting down in the back corner of the library (my office), fidgeting like I'm going to eat them or something. One has practically chewed off his fingernails, and the other one's leg won't stop bouncing. I hear them whispering. "What?" I say. "Is it true?" the kid asks. "That you carried forty two chairs to the auditorium? By yourself?" I stare. "Yes." Actually it was only eight chairs, but these are the kinds of rumors that are good for business. "Incredible." They start whispering to each other again. "We're wondering if we could procure your walking services, Mr. Marcus?" "Don't call me that." At the start of the school year, a bunch of sixth graders confused me for a teacher while they were trying to find the auditorium. I told them they'd better figure out where they needed to go or I was going to collect a tax from them for getting in the way. They ran. Soon a rumor started spreading that I was really an undercover assistant principal hired to keep kids in line. It's kind of ridiculous, but things at Montgomery often are. The rumors about me have gone from fantastical (Godzilla with a crew cut) to realistic (assistant principal). It's really annoying. But like I said, I've found a way to make it work for me. These two kids are here for my walking service, the crown jewel of my business. "Five bucks a week to walk each of you to school," I say. "And five bucks to get you home. Your total invoice is ten per week." "Each of us?" The kid seems surprised. "I could walk you halfway for half the price." They look at each other a moment. "That's my blue-plate special," I say. "No, we'll take the whole service. Thank you." "Where do you live?" "I live on Maple and Vine," one kid says. The other kid chimes in with, "I'm on Vine and North Cherry Hill Drive." I already walk four other kids who live in the Cherry Hill neighborhood, so two more isn't a big deal. I can't charge them more than ten bucks, or parents will start to wonder. The way I see it, it's a win-win for everyone. I'm making some money, and these kids are getting protection from bullying on their walks to and from school. I'm doing a service. People pay for bodyguards all the time. That's what I am to these kids--a big, bad bodyguard. "Hey," I tell them before they run off to class. "There's a deposit. Five bucks each." I always take a deposit for my services. It's like insurance money. They both pull out fives and hand them to me. Then they quickly get out of my office. Most of my business transactions happen in the small cubicle located behind a shelf at the far end of the library. The school librarian lets me hang there whenever I want. I usually take a stack of books to read while I wait for my "clients." In exchange for the office space, I help the librarian shelve books. I carefully fold the cash into my pocket and pull out my business spiral from my backpack to write down the names of my new clients. I check my cell phone storage tab before I close it. I need to pick up the slack on that. I've only collected two cell phones today. That's just three bucks. Here at Montgomery, there is zero cell phone use during school hours. Kids were getting their phones stolen and/or thrown into the lunchtime garbage can by older kids. (Trust me, you don't want your cell phone tossed in there. I don't even put my own garbage in there.) Besides all of that, Principal Jenkins said students were "spending too much time texting and using social media." Some parents cheered Principal Jenkins's decision. Others, not so much. In the end, a compromise was made. Kids could have a phone in their lockers but were not permitted to carry them around, and they definitely could not have them in class. Around mid-September, two seventh graders bumped into me because they were texting each other while walking to class. They tried to apologize, but I saw an opportunity. I decided to take their phones and charge them a "storage fee" until school got out. I let them come to my locker, send a text or two, then return the phones until they left school. I've collected phones one hundred and twenty-seven times since school started. That's almost two hundred bucks. I look at another tab in my portfolio. garbage tax collection (year two) week 25 = $2 Business is way down. I started collecting a garbage tax last year when kids kept dumping stuff on the floor, leaving empty soda cans in the library or crumpled paper in classrooms. It became so bad, Principal Jenkins said he would give detention to any student caught littering on school grounds. That's how the garbage tax was born. The idea came to me when I was sitting in my office and I heard a couple of kids chatting. I stood and peeked over the shelves to find a boy and girl had sneaked two sodas into the library. They finished, left the cans on a shelf, and took a few books to the circulation desk. I walked over, grabbed the evidence, and waited for them outside. The girl was surprised to see me standing there. She stepped back and tried to smile. "Hi," she said. I showed them the cans. "Know what this means?" I asked. The girl looked worried. "Please don't tell," she said. "My parents will kill me if I get detention." "We can pay you!" the boy blurted out. "How much?" I said. "Um . . ." The boy looked at the girl. "Twenty-five cents," the girl offered. "Fifty," I said. They looked at each other again. "Fifty cents to save our butts from detention?" "How do we know you won't tell?" the girl asked. "Because I would have already told if I didn't think there was something I could get out of it." "Fair enough," the girl said. "Here you go." She shook my hand and gave me a dollar. "For me and my friend." I took the money and threw the cans into the recycling bin. I wrote in my spiral the date I collected the tax, the reason for collecting it, and how much I got for it. After that, I started watching for litterbugs. Most kids wanted to avoid detention, so to them, fifty cents was an even trade for my silence. Recently, business has really dropped off. Hardly any kids leave trash behind now. Principal Jenkins thinks his policy is what turned the school around. The threat of detention was one reason. Paying my tax to avoid getting caught was a bigger one. I do some stuff for free, too. (Cuz, you know, I'm not a monster.) I carry equipment to school rallies and assemblies, I move desks for teachers, and I help out the maintenance staff with stuff like moving bleachers or rolling out the big garbage bins on trash day. I like the maintenance people. They treat me like a normal kid just helping out. But I guess I'm not a normal kid. I was born eleven pounds, twenty-six inches. Doesn't seem big until you consider that most babies are more like seven or eight pounds and nineteen or twenty inches when they're born. You get the idea. I was a big infant. Ninety-seventh-percentile big. While most kids just stare, the only kid who never misses a chance to tell me I'm not normal is Stephen Hobert. Stephen pronounces his name like he's French, but his family is from Springfield and I know for a fact he's never been to France. His mom is the head of the parents' association. She doesn't like students who stand out for "all the wrong reasons." Stephen has a crew. I've seen them pick on kids. Sixth graders are especially afraid of him (in a different way than they are afraid of me). They don't want to get on his bad side. He draws pictures of people he doesn't like and sneaks them into their backpacks and lockers. I caught him once putting one of his masterpieces inside a girl's backpack. At lunch later that day the girl was crying with her friends as she showed them the drawing. I happened to see it as I walked to a lunch table. Stephen drew her like a stick figure with a big round head, bulging eyes, short hair, and a tie. Above the drawing, he wrote, "Is it a boy or a girl?" Stephen uses words like someone throwing punches. Only it's nearly impossible to find the bruises. He's never been caught. I don't collect garbage tax or cell phone storage fees from Stephen. I've thought long and hard about it. Sure, he had made a monster out of me by spreading rumors and just being his terrible self. But in a way, he's responsible for my biggest source of income--keeping kids away from him. Excerpted from Marcus Vega Doesn't Speak Spanish by Pablo Cartaya All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.