Accordion eulogies A memoir of music, migration, and Mexico

Review by Booklist Review

In a follow-up to his award-winning debut memoir, Spirit Run (2020), Álvarez embarks on another journey of self-discovery. This time, he seeks to meet his paternal grandfather, who abandoned his family and set off a ripple effect of intergenerational trauma. The son of working-class Mexican immigrants and soon-to-be father takes up the accordion (like his abuelo) and in doing so chronicles the impact of the instrument on "ethnic groups who suffered isolation and separation but still persevered" and serves as a conduit for "corridos," or narrative poetic ballads. Álvarez's travels take him to Louisiana, Ireland, and Mexico, but his journey becomes perilous when he travels into dangerous regions of Mexico, surviving a car accident and navigating conflict zones. A lasting theme of the book is that amid life's disappointments, music offers a healing balm, as do the people who show unflinching generosity. Once again, this gifted writer proves to be an essential contemporary voice and should be included on any multicultural and music-themed reading list. A QR code in the back leads readers to a playlist with performances by some of the accordionists featured.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

In this poignant blend of personal and cultural history, Álvarez (Spirit Run) traces the roots of the accordion in an attempt to understand his estranged grandfather. Growing up in Yakima, Wash., all Álvarez knew for sure about his grandfather was that he brought his family to the United States from Mexico, abandoned them when Álvarez's father was a child, and played the accordion. As an adult, Álvarez also learned to play the instrument, and set out across the U.S. to speak with accordion players and manufacturers in order to "retrace his steps and revive the spirit of the accordion in our family." In Boston, New Orleans, and other cities, Álvarez learned of the accordion's mechanical quirks and ties to oppressed communities worldwide, including Black Creoles and the Indigenous peoples of Mexico. His investigation led him back to his ancestral corner of Mexico, where he reconnected with his ailing grandfather in a meeting that ultimately left him cold. "I didn't gain that much form my short encounter with my grandfather," Álvarez writes. "But I am thankful for the person I grew into during my crazy pursuit of this idea of a grandfather." With its rigorous curiosity and emotional vulnerability, Álvarez's account makes a strong case that the journey is more important than the destination. Agent: Rebecca Gradinger, Fletcher & Co. (May)

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

A U.S.--born author of Mexican heritage uses the music and history of the accordion to help him investigate his ancestry. In this poetic follow-up to Spirit Run, Álvarez, who grew up in Yakima, Washington, turns to the music of his people to uncover family secrets, particularly those pertaining to his grandfather, Eulogio, a traveling accordionist who left his family in Mexico and may have committed a wrong that put a curse on the family. For Álvarez's father, the pain of this separation lingers, and the author has "spent my life fruitlessly trying to close his hurt for him." The author chronicles his travels to Mexico, where Eulogio, now in his 90s, still lives, to learn about his world by studying the accordion, "invok[ing] its ancient gestures in order to peel back the layers of myself." This book is a combination of that journey, a history of the accordion, and a primer on the types of music for which it is used, including corrido music, "a genre of accordion music that speaks of immigrant tragedies in the hopes that expressing pain might soften it." Álvarez also traveled to Louisiana, Texas, and the U.K. to discover the accordion's roots and interview musicians, among them "zydeco legend" Jeffery Broussard; Ed Poullard, "one of the last remaining Black Creole accordion makers"; and British musician Will Pound, who talks animatedly about the "color in his music" and for whom music has had therapeutic meaning since two significant childhood surgeries. The tone is inconsistent--lyrical in chapters about Álvarez's family, more reportorial when recounting his travels and interviews--but the author makes his quest genuinely moving and shows how, for many marginalized communities, "accordion playing is an act of resistance." A heartfelt memoir that serves as "a reminder of what it takes to build love and community for oneself and one's family." Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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I am hounded by the specter of a grandfather I never really knew. He was a migrant and a traveling musician propelled by the songs that clamored in his chest. A man who gambled his lands away and left his wife and son to go hungry. After his disappearance, my grandmother died, leaving her young son--my father--homeless in Mexico. My father was deeply bruised by this abandonment, this subjection to suffering at such a young age. It diminished his trust in others, calloused his heart, and made him, in many ways, more distant than the stars. My grandfather's absence echoed through the generations, altering my childhood as well as my father's. For years, he has lived without closure. I've spent my life fruitlessly trying to close his hurt for him. Because my grandfather was not present in our lives, I grew up unable to make him answer for the childhoods he denied us. I could never confront him for stripping my father of his ability to express love toward himself and his children in the way we needed. I yearned to tell my grandfather of the great man my father became in his absence, who migrated from Mexico to Yakima stricken with fear and made a family there; of the warrior I have become in the aftermath of my grandfather's mess, raised by the son my grandfather neglected. I longed to show him that what I am today stems entirely from my father's hard lessons and that nothing about the previous generation lives inside me. But this would be a lie. Something of my grandfather is alive inside of me, I know, and it grows stronger every day--an inheritance of the accordion, dark shadows, and the impulse to be always on the move . Excerpted from Accordion Eulogies: A Memoir of Music, Migration, and Mexico by Noé Álvarez 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.

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