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Caminar
Set in 1981 Guatemala, a lyrical debut novel tells the powerful tale of a boy who must decide what it means to be a man during a time of war.
Carlos knows that when the soldiers arrive with warnings about the Communist rebels, it is time to be a man and defend the village, keep everyone safe. But Mama tells him not yet — he’s still her quiet moonfaced boy. The soldiers laugh at the villagers, and before they move on, a neighbor is found dangling from a tree, a sign on his neck: Communist. Mama tells Carlos to run and hide, then try to find her. . . . Numb and alone, he must join a band of guerillas as they trek to the top of the mountain where Carlos’s abuela lives. Will he be in time, and brave enough, to warn them about the soldiers? What will he do then? A novel in verse inspired by actual events during Guatemala’s civil war, Caminar is the moving story of a boy who loses nearly everything before discovering who he really is.
Carlos knows that when the soldiers arrive with warnings about the Communist rebels, it is time to be a man and defend the village, keep everyone safe. But Mama tells him not yet — he’s still her quiet moonfaced boy. The soldiers laugh at the villagers, and before they move on, a neighbor is found dangling from a tree, a sign on his neck: Communist. Mama tells Carlos to run and hide, then try to find her. . . . Numb and alone, he must join a band of guerillas as they trek to the top of the mountain where Carlos’s abuela lives. Will he be in time, and brave enough, to warn them about the soldiers? What will he do then? A novel in verse inspired by actual events during Guatemala’s civil war, Caminar is the moving story of a boy who loses nearly everything before discovering who he really is.
208 pages, Hardcover
First published March 11, 2014
24 people are currently reading
2437 people want to read
About the author
Skila Brown
6 books51 followersSkila Brown is the author of verse novels Caminar and To Stay Alive, as well as the picture book Slickety Quick: Poems About Sharks, all with Candlewick Press. She received an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts. She grew up in Kentucky and Tennessee and now lives in Indiana where she writes books for readers of all ages.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 283 reviews
October 3, 2014
Survivor’s guilt. Not the most common theme in children’s books these days. Not unheard of certainly, but it definitely doesn’t crop up as often as, say, stories about cupcakes or plucky orphans that have to defeat evil wizards. Serious works of fiction do well when award season comes along, but that’s only because those few that garner recognition are incredibly difficult to write. I’ll confess to you that when I first encountered Caminar by Skila Brown I heard it was about a kid surviving Guatemala’s Civil War and I instantly assumed it would be boring. Seems pretty silly to say that I thought a book chock-full o’ genocide would be a snorefest, but I’ve been burned before. True, I knew that Caminar was a verse novel and that gave me hope, but would it be enough? Fortunately, when the time came to pick it up it sucked me in from the very first page. Gripping and good, horrifying and beautifully wrought, if you’re gonna read just one children’s book on a real world reign of terror, why not go with this one?
He isn’t big. He isn’t tall. He has the round face of an owl and he tends to do whatever it is his mother requires of him with very little objection. Really, is it any wonder that Carlos is entranced by the freedom of the soldiers that enter his small village? The year is 1981 and in Chopan, Guatemala things are tense. One minute you have strange soldiers coming through the village on the hunt for rebels. The next minute the rebels are coming through as well, looking for food and aid. And when Carlos’s mother tells him that in the event of an emergency he is to run away and not wait for her, it’s not what he wants to hear. Needless to say, there comes a day when running is the only option but Carlos finds it difficult to carry on. He can survive in the wild, sleeping in trees and eating roots and plants, but how does he deal with the notion that only cowardice kept him from returning to Chopan? How does he handle his guilt? And is there some act that he can do to find peace of mind once more?
This isn’t the first book containing mass killings I’ve ever encountered for kids. Heck, it’s not even the only one I’ve seen this year (hat tip to The Red Pencil by Andrea Davis Pinkney). As such, this brings up a big question that the authors of such books must wrestle with each and every time such a book is conceived. Mainly, how do you make horrific violence palatable to young readers? A good follow-up question would have to be, why should you make it palatable in the first place? What is the value in teaching about the worst that humanity is capable of? There are folks that would mention that there is great value in this. Some books teach kids that the world is capable of being capricious and cruel with no particular reason whatsoever. Indeed Brown touches on this when Carlos prays to God asking for the answers that even adults seek. When handled well, books about mass killings of any kind, be it the Holocaust or the horrors of Burma, can instruct as well as offer hope. When handled poorly they become salacious, or moments that just use these horrors as an inappropriately tense backdrop to the action.
Here’s what you see when you read the first page of this book. The title is “Where I’m From”. It reads, “Our mountain stood tall, / like the finger that points. / Our corn plants grew in fields, / thick and wide as a thumb. / Our village sat in the folded-between, / in that spot where you pinch something sacred, / to keep it still. / Our mountain stood guard at our backs. / We slept at night in its bed.” I read this and I started rereading and rereading the sentence about how one will “pinch something sacred”. I couldn’t get it out of my head and though I wasn’t able to make perfect sense out of it, it rang true. I’m pleased that it was still in my head around page 119 because at that time I read something significant. Carlos is playing marbles with another kid and we read, “I watched Paco pinch / his fingers around the shooter, pinch / his eyes up every time . . .” Suddenly the start of the book makes a kind of sense that it didn’t before. That’s the joy of Brown’s writing here. She’s constantly including little verbal callbacks that reward the sharp-eyed readers while still remaining great poetry.
If I’m going to be perfectly honest with you, the destruction of Carlos’s village reminded me of nothing so much as the genocide that takes place in Frances Hardinge’s The Lost Conspiracy. That’s a good thing, by the way. It puts you in the scene without getting too graphic. The little bits and pieces you hear are enough. Is there anything more unnerving than someone laughing in the midst of atrocities? In terms of the content, I watched what Brown was doing here with great interest. To write this book she had to walk a tricky path. Reveal too much horror and the book is inappropriate for its intended age bracket. Reveal too little and you’re accused of sugarcoating history. In her particular case the horrors are pinpointed on a single thing all children can relate to: the fear of losing your mother. The repeated beat in this book is Carlos’s mother telling him that he will find her. Note that she never says that she will find him, which would normally be the natural way to put this. Indeed, as it stands the statement wraps up rather beautifully at the end, everything coming full circle.
Brown’s other method of handling this topic was to make the book free verse. Now I haven’t heard too many objections to the book but when I have it involves the particular use of the free verse found here. For example, one adult reader of my acquaintance pretty much dislikes any and all free verse that consists simply of the arbitrary chopping up of sentences. As such, she was incensed by page 28 which is entitled “What Mama Said” and reads simply, “They will / be back.” Now one could argue that by highlighting just that little sentence Brown is foreshadowing the heck out of this book. Personally, I found moments like this to be pitch perfect. I dislike free verse novels that read like arbitrary chopped up sentences too, but that isn’t Caminar. In this book Brown makes an effort to render each poem just that. A poem. Some poems are stronger than others, but they all hang together beautifully.
Debates rage as to how much reality kids should be taught. How young is young enough to know about the Holocaust? What about other famous atrocities? Should you give your child the essentials before they learn possibly misleading information from the wider world? What is a teacher’s responsibility? What is a parent’s? I cannot tell you that there won’t be objections to this book by concerned parental units. Many feel that there are certain dark themes out there that are entirely inappropriate as subject matter in children’s books. But then there are the kids that seek these books out. And honestly, the reason Caminar is a book to seek out isn’t even the subject matter itself per se but rather the great overarching themes that tie the whole thing together. Responsibility. Maturity. Losing your mother. Survival (but at what cost?). A beautifully wrought, delicately written novel that makes the unthinkable palatable to the young.
For ages 10 and up.
He isn’t big. He isn’t tall. He has the round face of an owl and he tends to do whatever it is his mother requires of him with very little objection. Really, is it any wonder that Carlos is entranced by the freedom of the soldiers that enter his small village? The year is 1981 and in Chopan, Guatemala things are tense. One minute you have strange soldiers coming through the village on the hunt for rebels. The next minute the rebels are coming through as well, looking for food and aid. And when Carlos’s mother tells him that in the event of an emergency he is to run away and not wait for her, it’s not what he wants to hear. Needless to say, there comes a day when running is the only option but Carlos finds it difficult to carry on. He can survive in the wild, sleeping in trees and eating roots and plants, but how does he deal with the notion that only cowardice kept him from returning to Chopan? How does he handle his guilt? And is there some act that he can do to find peace of mind once more?
This isn’t the first book containing mass killings I’ve ever encountered for kids. Heck, it’s not even the only one I’ve seen this year (hat tip to The Red Pencil by Andrea Davis Pinkney). As such, this brings up a big question that the authors of such books must wrestle with each and every time such a book is conceived. Mainly, how do you make horrific violence palatable to young readers? A good follow-up question would have to be, why should you make it palatable in the first place? What is the value in teaching about the worst that humanity is capable of? There are folks that would mention that there is great value in this. Some books teach kids that the world is capable of being capricious and cruel with no particular reason whatsoever. Indeed Brown touches on this when Carlos prays to God asking for the answers that even adults seek. When handled well, books about mass killings of any kind, be it the Holocaust or the horrors of Burma, can instruct as well as offer hope. When handled poorly they become salacious, or moments that just use these horrors as an inappropriately tense backdrop to the action.
Here’s what you see when you read the first page of this book. The title is “Where I’m From”. It reads, “Our mountain stood tall, / like the finger that points. / Our corn plants grew in fields, / thick and wide as a thumb. / Our village sat in the folded-between, / in that spot where you pinch something sacred, / to keep it still. / Our mountain stood guard at our backs. / We slept at night in its bed.” I read this and I started rereading and rereading the sentence about how one will “pinch something sacred”. I couldn’t get it out of my head and though I wasn’t able to make perfect sense out of it, it rang true. I’m pleased that it was still in my head around page 119 because at that time I read something significant. Carlos is playing marbles with another kid and we read, “I watched Paco pinch / his fingers around the shooter, pinch / his eyes up every time . . .” Suddenly the start of the book makes a kind of sense that it didn’t before. That’s the joy of Brown’s writing here. She’s constantly including little verbal callbacks that reward the sharp-eyed readers while still remaining great poetry.
If I’m going to be perfectly honest with you, the destruction of Carlos’s village reminded me of nothing so much as the genocide that takes place in Frances Hardinge’s The Lost Conspiracy. That’s a good thing, by the way. It puts you in the scene without getting too graphic. The little bits and pieces you hear are enough. Is there anything more unnerving than someone laughing in the midst of atrocities? In terms of the content, I watched what Brown was doing here with great interest. To write this book she had to walk a tricky path. Reveal too much horror and the book is inappropriate for its intended age bracket. Reveal too little and you’re accused of sugarcoating history. In her particular case the horrors are pinpointed on a single thing all children can relate to: the fear of losing your mother. The repeated beat in this book is Carlos’s mother telling him that he will find her. Note that she never says that she will find him, which would normally be the natural way to put this. Indeed, as it stands the statement wraps up rather beautifully at the end, everything coming full circle.
Brown’s other method of handling this topic was to make the book free verse. Now I haven’t heard too many objections to the book but when I have it involves the particular use of the free verse found here. For example, one adult reader of my acquaintance pretty much dislikes any and all free verse that consists simply of the arbitrary chopping up of sentences. As such, she was incensed by page 28 which is entitled “What Mama Said” and reads simply, “They will / be back.” Now one could argue that by highlighting just that little sentence Brown is foreshadowing the heck out of this book. Personally, I found moments like this to be pitch perfect. I dislike free verse novels that read like arbitrary chopped up sentences too, but that isn’t Caminar. In this book Brown makes an effort to render each poem just that. A poem. Some poems are stronger than others, but they all hang together beautifully.
Debates rage as to how much reality kids should be taught. How young is young enough to know about the Holocaust? What about other famous atrocities? Should you give your child the essentials before they learn possibly misleading information from the wider world? What is a teacher’s responsibility? What is a parent’s? I cannot tell you that there won’t be objections to this book by concerned parental units. Many feel that there are certain dark themes out there that are entirely inappropriate as subject matter in children’s books. But then there are the kids that seek these books out. And honestly, the reason Caminar is a book to seek out isn’t even the subject matter itself per se but rather the great overarching themes that tie the whole thing together. Responsibility. Maturity. Losing your mother. Survival (but at what cost?). A beautifully wrought, delicately written novel that makes the unthinkable palatable to the young.
For ages 10 and up.
October 19, 2014
I'll say straight off that I was disappointed to find this was a novel in verse, not only because that isn't usually my thing, but because I was looking forward to a really in-depth visit to Guatemala (one of my favorite places). I think that's one of the main frustrations I have with verse novels--you get a lot of what the protagonist is thinking and doing, but not as much about other characters or events or setting. Most of them leave me feeling like I've only read half of a story. Sometimes that's okay, sometimes it's frustrating.
This is a fast-paced story that never lost my interest, and I was never quite sure how it was going to end. The second half picked up for me more than the first. The voice is probably what I liked best--I found it really believable as that of a young boy--along with the bits of atmosphere we get.
I did have some quibbles with the author's choices to use a lot of Spanish in the book (rather than a Mayan language, which would be what the characters spoke then and now), so I asked her about it and was satisfied with her answers (and that she considered the problem carefully). It makes me a little sad because it's so little known in the US that indigenous cultures and languages are thriving in Guatemala, but I can believe that trying to incorporate an indigenous language (and since this is an invented village, what language would it be?) would have been distracting and overly complex.
This is a fast-paced story that never lost my interest, and I was never quite sure how it was going to end. The second half picked up for me more than the first. The voice is probably what I liked best--I found it really believable as that of a young boy--along with the bits of atmosphere we get.
I did have some quibbles with the author's choices to use a lot of Spanish in the book (rather than a Mayan language, which would be what the characters spoke then and now), so I asked her about it and was satisfied with her answers (and that she considered the problem carefully). It makes me a little sad because it's so little known in the US that indigenous cultures and languages are thriving in Guatemala, but I can believe that trying to incorporate an indigenous language (and since this is an invented village, what language would it be?) would have been distracting and overly complex.
March 24, 2014
[I read this book at the same time I read Finding Oscar and the review deals with both of them. Apologies if this is confusing.]
Both Finding Oscar and Caminar focus on the decades-long genocide in Guatemala, purportedly anti-Communist and strongly supported by the U.S. government. Both are set in the early 1980s. Both are novella-length. Each centers around a boy who survives the massacre of his village.
Finding Oscar is non-fiction, an extension of what originated as a journalistic investigation of a massacre in the Guatemalan village of Dos Erres. Caminar is a prose poem relating the story of a boy who survives a similar massacre in his own village; while based on history in a broad sense, it is a work of fiction. Finding Oscar is directed toward an adult audience, offering the sort of details and documentation one expects from good journalism. Caminar is directed toward children and young adults, relating its account short bursts of narrative presented in a first-person voice.
I’m not writing this review to compare the two pieces or to argue that one is better than the other. They were written to accomplish different tasks, and each does its task well. Instead, I’m writing because both works deserve attention for pricking historical memory, for making vivid events that might seem distant to some readers.
I teach at a university and attended college and graduate school in the 1980s. The U.S. role in Central America was one of the burning political issues of that time. The money and lives the U.S. invested in upholding military strongmen and murdering peasants in the name of preventing communism was both criticized and mourned in the circles I ran in. Most of us were cynical enough that we didn’t expect much different from our government during this cold-war era. Those of us not given over completely to cynicism were also broken-hearted at the betrayal of democratic principles we’d been raised to honor and view as a global model.
Most of my students (who were born in the mid-90s) know nothing about this period unless they are the children of refugees or refugees themselves. This is what makes both Finding Oscar and Caminar so very necessary. Their two very different voices struggle against the failure of historical memory, demand that we remember the past so as not to repeat it.
We meet the Oscar of Finding Oscar as an adult, living in the U.S., who is unaware of his connection to Dos Erres. We meet Carlos, the protagonist of Caminar, shortly before his village is massacred, and we share his journey up the mountain to the village where his grandmother still lives. Both works highlight the role of forensic anthropologists in documenting the genocide. Read Finding Oscar for the historical context it provides and for the way it documents the parallel strands of violence and tenderness that run in all of us. Read Caminar to become acquainted with its protagonist. Make friends with him, travel with him, wrestle as he does with trying to find a way to name the horrors he’s survived.
Both Finding Oscar and Caminar focus on the decades-long genocide in Guatemala, purportedly anti-Communist and strongly supported by the U.S. government. Both are set in the early 1980s. Both are novella-length. Each centers around a boy who survives the massacre of his village.
Finding Oscar is non-fiction, an extension of what originated as a journalistic investigation of a massacre in the Guatemalan village of Dos Erres. Caminar is a prose poem relating the story of a boy who survives a similar massacre in his own village; while based on history in a broad sense, it is a work of fiction. Finding Oscar is directed toward an adult audience, offering the sort of details and documentation one expects from good journalism. Caminar is directed toward children and young adults, relating its account short bursts of narrative presented in a first-person voice.
I’m not writing this review to compare the two pieces or to argue that one is better than the other. They were written to accomplish different tasks, and each does its task well. Instead, I’m writing because both works deserve attention for pricking historical memory, for making vivid events that might seem distant to some readers.
I teach at a university and attended college and graduate school in the 1980s. The U.S. role in Central America was one of the burning political issues of that time. The money and lives the U.S. invested in upholding military strongmen and murdering peasants in the name of preventing communism was both criticized and mourned in the circles I ran in. Most of us were cynical enough that we didn’t expect much different from our government during this cold-war era. Those of us not given over completely to cynicism were also broken-hearted at the betrayal of democratic principles we’d been raised to honor and view as a global model.
Most of my students (who were born in the mid-90s) know nothing about this period unless they are the children of refugees or refugees themselves. This is what makes both Finding Oscar and Caminar so very necessary. Their two very different voices struggle against the failure of historical memory, demand that we remember the past so as not to repeat it.
We meet the Oscar of Finding Oscar as an adult, living in the U.S., who is unaware of his connection to Dos Erres. We meet Carlos, the protagonist of Caminar, shortly before his village is massacred, and we share his journey up the mountain to the village where his grandmother still lives. Both works highlight the role of forensic anthropologists in documenting the genocide. Read Finding Oscar for the historical context it provides and for the way it documents the parallel strands of violence and tenderness that run in all of us. Read Caminar to become acquainted with its protagonist. Make friends with him, travel with him, wrestle as he does with trying to find a way to name the horrors he’s survived.
December 5, 2013
Spoiler-free summary:
Written entirely in free-verse poetry, Caminar, the debut novel from Skila Brown is the story of Carlos and the remote Guatemalan village he called home. Caught in the midst of the Guatemala’s brutal 36-year civil war, Carlos must learn how to survive after everything he knows is wrenched away from him. Part coming-of-age story, part historical fiction, Caminar offers a lyrical glimpse into rural Guatemala’s troubled past and one boy’s ability to say, “I remember.”
.....
Caminar was a fairly short read - I believe I read it in less than an hour – but it was impactful, nonetheless. I think that is a sign of good poetry – the ability to make an impact in very few words.
My favorite part of the book came when Carlos was remembering his town and he remembered even where the puddles would form when it would rain. I felt that the placement of puddles is something each of us stores subconsciously, with a bit of fondness, though we don’t recognize it’s fondness until Skila Brown tells us so. Brown’s ability to make an observation as mundane as this a sweet and endearing memory is a testament to her skill as a poet. This book is riddled with succinct little observations such as this.
I was surprised to learn that Brown is not Guatemalan and does not speak Spanish well (as admitted by the author herself in the back of the book). She seems very invested in Guatemalan culture and I found no evidence in the book that she was not a fluent speaker of Spanish. There are a few Spanish idioms and phrases sprinkled throughout the book, but I, with my tenuous grasp on the Spanish language, was able to understand most of them without the help of the glossary in the back.
I enjoyed this book, but I wish it was a bit longer. It was well-written and informative, but it just didn’t feel like enough to me. I think that part of this feeling might be stemming from the fact that most of the action in the story takes place over the course of a few days.
I honestly did not know that this was intended to be a “middle-grade novel” until I got to the section at the back with questions and answers from the author. This appendix definitely read as something for someone younger, but, the rest of the novel is ageless.
Buy Caminar March 25, 2014 in hardcover from Candlewick Press and Amazon.
http://bookpuke.blogspot.com/
Written entirely in free-verse poetry, Caminar, the debut novel from Skila Brown is the story of Carlos and the remote Guatemalan village he called home. Caught in the midst of the Guatemala’s brutal 36-year civil war, Carlos must learn how to survive after everything he knows is wrenched away from him. Part coming-of-age story, part historical fiction, Caminar offers a lyrical glimpse into rural Guatemala’s troubled past and one boy’s ability to say, “I remember.”
.....
Caminar was a fairly short read - I believe I read it in less than an hour – but it was impactful, nonetheless. I think that is a sign of good poetry – the ability to make an impact in very few words.
My favorite part of the book came when Carlos was remembering his town and he remembered even where the puddles would form when it would rain. I felt that the placement of puddles is something each of us stores subconsciously, with a bit of fondness, though we don’t recognize it’s fondness until Skila Brown tells us so. Brown’s ability to make an observation as mundane as this a sweet and endearing memory is a testament to her skill as a poet. This book is riddled with succinct little observations such as this.
I was surprised to learn that Brown is not Guatemalan and does not speak Spanish well (as admitted by the author herself in the back of the book). She seems very invested in Guatemalan culture and I found no evidence in the book that she was not a fluent speaker of Spanish. There are a few Spanish idioms and phrases sprinkled throughout the book, but I, with my tenuous grasp on the Spanish language, was able to understand most of them without the help of the glossary in the back.
I enjoyed this book, but I wish it was a bit longer. It was well-written and informative, but it just didn’t feel like enough to me. I think that part of this feeling might be stemming from the fact that most of the action in the story takes place over the course of a few days.
I honestly did not know that this was intended to be a “middle-grade novel” until I got to the section at the back with questions and answers from the author. This appendix definitely read as something for someone younger, but, the rest of the novel is ageless.
Buy Caminar March 25, 2014 in hardcover from Candlewick Press and Amazon.
http://bookpuke.blogspot.com/
May 11, 2014
Review Copy: Hard Copy from Publisher
It's probably not news to you, but April was poetry month. Being a teacher, that means I have been reading a large amount of poetry lately. I also posted a list of novels in verse last month which got me wondering why they appeal to me so much. I’ve heard many readers ask why books are in that format and make comments about how they sometimes don’t even seem like poetry or that they think readers may not understand novels in verse. I am not sure why they work or don’t work for other people, but I have an idea of why they work for me. When I read a novel in verse like Caminar, all of the white space focuses my attention even more closely on the words – especially when they are as powerful as those written by Skila Brown. In addition, the variety of cadences and frequent pauses allow for a lot more thinking on my part. There are many, many breaks in the writing that make time for this reader’s responses. In Caminar the pauses felt natural even though I am certain they are very deliberate.
The topic of the Guatemalan civil war is grim, and Skila Brown has given the conflict a face. Carlos is a young boy who plays soccer and carries marbles in his pockets, though he is yearning to be a man. He is still willing to obey his mother, but is beginning to question that. He wonders if following her orders is keeping him from becoming a man. In the midst of his questioning, the soldiers and rebels step into his life and his world is shattered. At this point, I will just go ahead and admit that I did not make it through the book without tears. The dedication hints at what is to come, “In memory of the more than 200,000 people who were killed or disappeared in Guatemala between 1960 and 1996. May they always be remembered.”
Brown weaves the story through many individual poems. She plays with the arrangement of words on the page and most are visually very distinct from each other. Some of the poems are concrete showing the shape of what they describe. A few bounce back and forth between two columns and could even benefit from being read aloud by two people. One is read down the page and then is inverted to be read again providing a different perspective. I really enjoyed experiencing the variety of forms and even though the shapes changed greatly, the voice remained consistent and clear.
Carlos is young, but is being forced to grow up quickly. Caminar is a coming of age novel which shifts it into the young adult category a little though it is often labeled as a middle grade book. I think it is on the borderline. Brown tackles the topic of war in a way that is accessible and appropriate for younger children, yet is complex enough to work with older readers too.
One of my favorite parts of the book was the concept of the nahuales or animal spirit protectors. I loved the poems that dealt with that. Early on, Carlos scoffs a bit at the idea, but his beliefs shift over time. It led me to remember the book How I Became a Ghost by Tim Tingle as it also features the idea of animals as protectors. I think that the two books have many similarities. In both, a group of people are being targeted and a young boy must face fears in an attempt to help loved ones. They would likely be good books to read together.
Recommendation: Buy it now particularly if poetry appeals to you. If you typically avoid novels in verse, I would still say grab this one. I was unfamiliar with this history and truly appreciated the story. Above all though, poetry is about word choice and placement and Skila Brown chose well.
The review was originally posted at our blog Rich in Color http://richincolor.com/2014/05/review...
It's probably not news to you, but April was poetry month. Being a teacher, that means I have been reading a large amount of poetry lately. I also posted a list of novels in verse last month which got me wondering why they appeal to me so much. I’ve heard many readers ask why books are in that format and make comments about how they sometimes don’t even seem like poetry or that they think readers may not understand novels in verse. I am not sure why they work or don’t work for other people, but I have an idea of why they work for me. When I read a novel in verse like Caminar, all of the white space focuses my attention even more closely on the words – especially when they are as powerful as those written by Skila Brown. In addition, the variety of cadences and frequent pauses allow for a lot more thinking on my part. There are many, many breaks in the writing that make time for this reader’s responses. In Caminar the pauses felt natural even though I am certain they are very deliberate.
The topic of the Guatemalan civil war is grim, and Skila Brown has given the conflict a face. Carlos is a young boy who plays soccer and carries marbles in his pockets, though he is yearning to be a man. He is still willing to obey his mother, but is beginning to question that. He wonders if following her orders is keeping him from becoming a man. In the midst of his questioning, the soldiers and rebels step into his life and his world is shattered. At this point, I will just go ahead and admit that I did not make it through the book without tears. The dedication hints at what is to come, “In memory of the more than 200,000 people who were killed or disappeared in Guatemala between 1960 and 1996. May they always be remembered.”
Brown weaves the story through many individual poems. She plays with the arrangement of words on the page and most are visually very distinct from each other. Some of the poems are concrete showing the shape of what they describe. A few bounce back and forth between two columns and could even benefit from being read aloud by two people. One is read down the page and then is inverted to be read again providing a different perspective. I really enjoyed experiencing the variety of forms and even though the shapes changed greatly, the voice remained consistent and clear.
Carlos is young, but is being forced to grow up quickly. Caminar is a coming of age novel which shifts it into the young adult category a little though it is often labeled as a middle grade book. I think it is on the borderline. Brown tackles the topic of war in a way that is accessible and appropriate for younger children, yet is complex enough to work with older readers too.
One of my favorite parts of the book was the concept of the nahuales or animal spirit protectors. I loved the poems that dealt with that. Early on, Carlos scoffs a bit at the idea, but his beliefs shift over time. It led me to remember the book How I Became a Ghost by Tim Tingle as it also features the idea of animals as protectors. I think that the two books have many similarities. In both, a group of people are being targeted and a young boy must face fears in an attempt to help loved ones. They would likely be good books to read together.
Recommendation: Buy it now particularly if poetry appeals to you. If you typically avoid novels in verse, I would still say grab this one. I was unfamiliar with this history and truly appreciated the story. Above all though, poetry is about word choice and placement and Skila Brown chose well.
The review was originally posted at our blog Rich in Color http://richincolor.com/2014/05/review...
September 1, 2016
Set in 1981 during the Guatemalan Civil War, this novel in verse tells the story of Carlos, a village boy who is thrust into the middle of a war that is not his or his people’s. Told from Carlos’s point of view, the poems range from calm and fluid to racing and intense, simulating Carlos’s experiences and creating an extremely emotional read. Mastery of poetic devices (rhythm, repetitions, arrangement) and vivid language make this reading experience a standout. This one will make you and your students think about the realities and complexities of war.
Classroom Connection:
Try using this fast read in conjunction with Social Studies lessons about war. Pair this book with an article that further elaborates on the situation in Guatemala at this time. Most students will not have a clue about the genocide that took place or the Guatemalan Civil War, so it’s important to provide background information.
Classroom Connection:
Try using this fast read in conjunction with Social Studies lessons about war. Pair this book with an article that further elaborates on the situation in Guatemala at this time. Most students will not have a clue about the genocide that took place or the Guatemalan Civil War, so it’s important to provide background information.
June 6, 2014
Reminiscent of All the Broken Pieces and other novels in verse about children experiencing incredibly difficult circumstances (also Never Fall Down, which isn't in verse but I thought of it as I was reading this). The history of Guatemala was somewhat known to me, but a first-person account of a tragedy such as this makes it visceral. I felt strongly for Carlos, his mother and his village. The poetry used not only words but shapes and spaces to convey meaning.
July 29, 2016
Set in rural Guatemala, this story relates how a young boy, Carlos, survives the massacre of the people of his village by soldiers while he is in the mountains picking mushrooms for soup. Telling the story in verse from his viewpoint vividly brings out the horror, disbelief, and guilt he feels that he couldn't help his people. I don't know if I could have survived the way he did, sleeping in trees and eating roots and berries. Pair this book with Ben Mikaelsen's Tree Girl, also set in the same time period. Recommended for those readers who can handle the violence and horror.
January 20, 2015
Wow!
In the beginning of the book I didn't liked the Note to the Reader, because that was like a light way to resume what happened, but after I finished reading the book and I read it again, I liked it a little bit.
I think that the abstract of this story wasn't what I saw, it is much more than that. Maybe that abstract will make others dislike it at first impression. But when opening the book, that abstract would be erased from their minds.
The book for me was mind-blowing, I enjoyed every poem like chapter. It was beautifully elaborated, every detail matches it's words with the sounds of it.
The main character, has such an innocence that makes him a lovable and sweet story teller. I could have finished this book sooner but I just started university, but this book was in my purse ready to be read ASAP.
I liked the color of the hardcover and it has a great eneding to the story. It made want to cry.
I have some interest on reading about this story, that happened in my country from both points of view, and there is this one, the third point of view, the citizens that weren't on any side and this new one, the point of view of someone from another country about the civil war that happened. Four points of view, three more to be read.
I have read historical fiction stories about the second world war, but now it's the time to read about stories closer to my country.
So thank you Skila Brown for writing this story; hoping to read it soon but in our language "español".
In the beginning of the book I didn't liked the Note to the Reader, because that was like a light way to resume what happened, but after I finished reading the book and I read it again, I liked it a little bit.
I think that the abstract of this story wasn't what I saw, it is much more than that. Maybe that abstract will make others dislike it at first impression. But when opening the book, that abstract would be erased from their minds.
The book for me was mind-blowing, I enjoyed every poem like chapter. It was beautifully elaborated, every detail matches it's words with the sounds of it.
The main character, has such an innocence that makes him a lovable and sweet story teller. I could have finished this book sooner but I just started university, but this book was in my purse ready to be read ASAP.
I liked the color of the hardcover and it has a great eneding to the story. It made want to cry.
I have some interest on reading about this story, that happened in my country from both points of view, and there is this one, the third point of view, the citizens that weren't on any side and this new one, the point of view of someone from another country about the civil war that happened. Four points of view, three more to be read.
I have read historical fiction stories about the second world war, but now it's the time to read about stories closer to my country.
So thank you Skila Brown for writing this story; hoping to read it soon but in our language "español".
July 22, 2017
Under-read, under appreciated, and under discussed, Caminar describes the changes in a young boy's life during the Guatemalan civil war. Given the number of Guatemalan immigrants in the United States, the topic is necessary, and this book should be in classrooms. The subject matter is honest but not grisly, and the text level is solidly middle grade, which is to say about 5th or 6th.
Skila Brown's poetry style deserves special praise. Lazy writers create narrative poetry by writing sentences and then throwing in a few line breaks. You will not find that garbage here. Each poem is separately designed, and the lines are placed on the page to enhance their meaning. In places, the concrete aspects of the poems represent volume, dialogue, tone, thought vs. speech, and other concepts.
The year this was eligible, The Crossover, Brown Girl Dreaming, and El Deafo won Newbery recognition. Caminar is a stronger work than El Deaf, and I wish that it had been recognized by the ALA when it was published.
Skila Brown's poetry style deserves special praise. Lazy writers create narrative poetry by writing sentences and then throwing in a few line breaks. You will not find that garbage here. Each poem is separately designed, and the lines are placed on the page to enhance their meaning. In places, the concrete aspects of the poems represent volume, dialogue, tone, thought vs. speech, and other concepts.
The year this was eligible, The Crossover, Brown Girl Dreaming, and El Deafo won Newbery recognition. Caminar is a stronger work than El Deaf, and I wish that it had been recognized by the ALA when it was published.
December 6, 2015
Skila Brown’s debut novel in verse tells the heartbreaking story of Carlos, who is forced from his devastated village and treks up a mountainside to save his grandmother and her neighbors from a similar fate.
One thing that struck me most was Brown’s ability to create a touching coming-of-age narrative set in such tragic events. The novel is not graphic, although the topic is brutal. And while it is a civil war, fueled by politics, Brown does not support or condemn any side. Instead, more than anything, it’s about the ability of the human spirit to survive and persevere even after an unexpected, horrific loss.
A moment that grabbed me by the heart was when Mama tells Carlos to go into the woods and then find her later. He does so, obediently, but we just know there won’t be a later, that this is her last protective act as his mother. Another was when the children wave at the passing helicopter, as children will do when they see something interesting, but they don’t grasp the imminent danger signaled by this flying machine’s presence. From the novel:
They flew
over our village many times, searching the mountains for
something. We didn’t care,
just reached our arms as high as we could, stretched
toward the sky, wanting
to be seen.
We did not know to be
afraid, did not know they were a storm
of death, searching
for a place to rain.
Brown brilliantly combines history, fiction, and poetry in this novel, which she dedicates to the “memory of the more than 200,000 people who were killed or disappeared in Guatemala between 1960 and 1996.” These numbers are staggering, and I often questioned while reading Caminar why I didn’t know more about this 36-year civil war. This is definitely a book I will have on my classroom shelf and recommend to my middle school social studies and language arts teacher-friends.
One thing that struck me most was Brown’s ability to create a touching coming-of-age narrative set in such tragic events. The novel is not graphic, although the topic is brutal. And while it is a civil war, fueled by politics, Brown does not support or condemn any side. Instead, more than anything, it’s about the ability of the human spirit to survive and persevere even after an unexpected, horrific loss.
A moment that grabbed me by the heart was when Mama tells Carlos to go into the woods and then find her later. He does so, obediently, but we just know there won’t be a later, that this is her last protective act as his mother. Another was when the children wave at the passing helicopter, as children will do when they see something interesting, but they don’t grasp the imminent danger signaled by this flying machine’s presence. From the novel:
They flew
over our village many times, searching the mountains for
something. We didn’t care,
just reached our arms as high as we could, stretched
toward the sky, wanting
to be seen.
We did not know to be
afraid, did not know they were a storm
of death, searching
for a place to rain.
Brown brilliantly combines history, fiction, and poetry in this novel, which she dedicates to the “memory of the more than 200,000 people who were killed or disappeared in Guatemala between 1960 and 1996.” These numbers are staggering, and I often questioned while reading Caminar why I didn’t know more about this 36-year civil war. This is definitely a book I will have on my classroom shelf and recommend to my middle school social studies and language arts teacher-friends.
July 14, 2014
Caminar means "to walk" which is what Carls does through the mountains os Guatemala. Set in 1981 Guatemala, this novel is written entirely in free verse. Carlos is knows that Communist rebels will soon come to their village and that when they arrive, he will need to be a man and help defend the village. His mother always says "not yet" because he is still a boy. The rebels do arrive and Mama tells Carols to run and hide in the forest and then find her later. Carols obeys and later learns his village was burned to the ground. Carlos joins a band of guerillas and climb to the top of the mountain where his abuela lives i a tiny village. he must warn them about the soldiers.
This is a very tough subject matter, where the novel is based on actual events during Guatemala’s civil war.
This is a very tough subject matter, where the novel is based on actual events during Guatemala’s civil war.
February 13, 2018
A very compelling story, especially since it's based on real-life events. I really appreciated the narrative arc and would give this book 4 stars for that aspect. However, I really wasn't a fan of the style of poetry found in this book. (Or rather, styles; it jumps between concrete poetry to poetry for two voices and a host of other styles.) I found the formatting distracting sometimes. A great story, and I still think it "worked" in poetry, but it didn't have the same lyrical beauty as, say, Out of the Dust or Inside Out and Back Again.
An interesting companion to Ismael Beah's A Long Way Gone for another perspective on how ordinary people get caught up in the conflict and violence of civil wars.
An interesting companion to Ismael Beah's A Long Way Gone for another perspective on how ordinary people get caught up in the conflict and violence of civil wars.
January 5, 2018
This poetry book was very good! I liked how it brought in elements from the actual fighting going on in Guatemala from 1960-1996. This topic needs more light shined on it because I was unaware that this even happened until I read this book! 200,000 innocent people lost their lives and I couldn't even comprehend that 15 people died every day adding up to 5,555 per year. This book was overall a great read and a great choice for our 8th grade poetry unit! I cannot believe I finished it in one day! :) 10/10 would recommend to a historical fiction or history fanatic.
February 10, 2018
A novel in poems, set in Guatemala in the 1980's.
Carlos is a happy boy, living a peaceful life in a close-knit mountain village. But when the military attacks his defenseless community, Carlos must flee. Caminar is his long walk through the forest, evading dangers and traveling toward his abuela who lives on the mountaintop.
A sad story, but one that makes some complicated (and often forgotten) American history accessible and personal. I like the short chapters in verse and the skilled use of Spanish in the text.
Carlos is a happy boy, living a peaceful life in a close-knit mountain village. But when the military attacks his defenseless community, Carlos must flee. Caminar is his long walk through the forest, evading dangers and traveling toward his abuela who lives on the mountaintop.
A sad story, but one that makes some complicated (and often forgotten) American history accessible and personal. I like the short chapters in verse and the skilled use of Spanish in the text.
July 26, 2014
A compelling historical novel exploring violence and loss set during the Guatemalan Civil War in 1981 and told in free verse from the perspective of a young indigenous boy. See also Tree Girl by Ben Mikaelsen (Harper, 2004).
October 17, 2015
Wow wow wow.
Wow!
Wow!
November 13, 2015
Beautiful book written in verse by an Indiana author. Pulled me in from the first page.
April 11, 2015
I've read Caminar twice now. It is haunting and beautiful and will get you right in the feels. One advantage of a free verse novel is it can be read quickly, even by middle grade standards, so I was able to read it once for comprehension, and once for appreciation. Part of me is excited to see a subject as serious as this can be presented in a middle grade book, and the other part hates to label Caminar as middle grade lest some readers view it as just a book for kids. This is a book of serious weight and magnitude to be appreciated by readers of all ages.
And like the best fiction, Caminar has a hook. For me, the hook was meeting Skila Brown at a conference last month and sitting in on a couple sessions of hers. I was so impressed by the author, I wanted to read her book. For the reader, I suspect the hook will be not the first poem above, although it does go a long way toward assuring the reader they are in the hands of a capable artist and are about to enjoy a story that will be richly told. For the reader who hasn't met the author, I think the hook lies with the Note to the Reader preceding the first poem:
In 1954, the democratically elected government of Guatemala was overthrown by a group of military men who were unhappy with the way the government had been passing laws to help poor farmers in rural communities. Forty horrible years followed, in which the people of Guatemala tried to resist, organize, and bring about change, all while the Guatemalan army did everything they could to discourage the "rebels" or "guerillas," as they called the organizers. The army went into the mountains of rural Guatemala, where they tried to prevent villagers from joining the rebels.
Many lives were lost. And many more were never the same.
And that is to be the background of a novel perfectly acceptable to read to children. It's not a cartoon movie with a happy-meal tie-in. When I was in film school, I had a wacky professor who told me that if modern American story culture were a meal, it would be mostly desert, barely any meat and almost no vegetables. My response: I like desert and it sure seems to be popular. Now as an author, I'm serving up zombies and robot bees, but I try to remember to include some depth and meaning in my fiction so my readers don't get mental cavities.
Caminar is meat and vegetables. It is rich and nutritious and the sort of reading experience a young mind needs to grow strong. And there's some desert: the pleasure of fine language composed artfully is a desert that refines taste. And now I'm going to drop the metaphor before I start talking about how a good book review is an antacid:)
Caminar is the story of Carlos, although really, it's the story of what happens to Carlos' village, Chopan, when an army invades with the intent of eventual genocide, as told from the perspective of a young boy. It's a coming of age story and it's a historical narrative and it's a work of art. The violence is never graphic and Brown is smart enough to keep much of the horror "off-screen," while still telling the truth about what happened. I'm terrified of reproducing passages as spacing is crucial and I'll sure I'll muck it up, but here's a good example:
Why I Dropped the Mushrooms
pop
pop
pop pop pop pop
pop pop pop
pop pop
it sounded like
cohetes
on a saint's day—
fireworks—
except for the
screams
In fact, spacing is crucial to most of the poems, which is perhaps the reason Caminar isn't currently available as an ebook. Sometimes the reason for spacing is obvious such as:
"Here we have space."
And:
"I was your age when I stepped away
from Child, stepped into Man."
In other poems, the spacing helps to form an image, such as is the case in my favorite poem, listed below. Another poem, called Smoke, features short lines spaced back and forth across the page to evoke the image of rising smoke.
At other times, the spacing is less obvious and left to the reader to determine the reasoning behind it. And that is the pleasure of Caminar: the language that's used and the way it's used. Brown sets up multiple lines early in the book to be called back to later, rewarding the reader for paying attention. Even if you don't write poetry, the skills on display here are applicable to all fiction writing and worth paying attention to whatever you write.
Caminar is a good story, well told, and it will haunt you. I'm so glad I got to meet Silka Brown and enjoy her novel as both experiences have made a lasting impression on me. Typically, I end each review with four or five of my favorite passages from the text, but this isn't your typical book so I'll leave you with a favorite poem instead:
Mariposas
I looked, pointed
my eyes toward the village, toward
Chopan. Looked through
trees to see. Something
moved. Something
fell. A limb.
CRASH.
And then—the sky
was filled
with blue, butterflies,
tiny blues
that fluttered and flew,
past my tree,
over my head, above
the forest,
into the sky.
I blinked
and saw
the last one
was yellow.
And like the best fiction, Caminar has a hook. For me, the hook was meeting Skila Brown at a conference last month and sitting in on a couple sessions of hers. I was so impressed by the author, I wanted to read her book. For the reader, I suspect the hook will be not the first poem above, although it does go a long way toward assuring the reader they are in the hands of a capable artist and are about to enjoy a story that will be richly told. For the reader who hasn't met the author, I think the hook lies with the Note to the Reader preceding the first poem:
In 1954, the democratically elected government of Guatemala was overthrown by a group of military men who were unhappy with the way the government had been passing laws to help poor farmers in rural communities. Forty horrible years followed, in which the people of Guatemala tried to resist, organize, and bring about change, all while the Guatemalan army did everything they could to discourage the "rebels" or "guerillas," as they called the organizers. The army went into the mountains of rural Guatemala, where they tried to prevent villagers from joining the rebels.
Many lives were lost. And many more were never the same.
And that is to be the background of a novel perfectly acceptable to read to children. It's not a cartoon movie with a happy-meal tie-in. When I was in film school, I had a wacky professor who told me that if modern American story culture were a meal, it would be mostly desert, barely any meat and almost no vegetables. My response: I like desert and it sure seems to be popular. Now as an author, I'm serving up zombies and robot bees, but I try to remember to include some depth and meaning in my fiction so my readers don't get mental cavities.
Caminar is meat and vegetables. It is rich and nutritious and the sort of reading experience a young mind needs to grow strong. And there's some desert: the pleasure of fine language composed artfully is a desert that refines taste. And now I'm going to drop the metaphor before I start talking about how a good book review is an antacid:)
Caminar is the story of Carlos, although really, it's the story of what happens to Carlos' village, Chopan, when an army invades with the intent of eventual genocide, as told from the perspective of a young boy. It's a coming of age story and it's a historical narrative and it's a work of art. The violence is never graphic and Brown is smart enough to keep much of the horror "off-screen," while still telling the truth about what happened. I'm terrified of reproducing passages as spacing is crucial and I'll sure I'll muck it up, but here's a good example:
Why I Dropped the Mushrooms
pop
pop
pop pop pop pop
pop pop pop
pop pop
it sounded like
cohetes
on a saint's day—
fireworks—
except for the
screams
In fact, spacing is crucial to most of the poems, which is perhaps the reason Caminar isn't currently available as an ebook. Sometimes the reason for spacing is obvious such as:
"Here we have space."
And:
"I was your age when I stepped away
from Child, stepped into Man."
In other poems, the spacing helps to form an image, such as is the case in my favorite poem, listed below. Another poem, called Smoke, features short lines spaced back and forth across the page to evoke the image of rising smoke.
At other times, the spacing is less obvious and left to the reader to determine the reasoning behind it. And that is the pleasure of Caminar: the language that's used and the way it's used. Brown sets up multiple lines early in the book to be called back to later, rewarding the reader for paying attention. Even if you don't write poetry, the skills on display here are applicable to all fiction writing and worth paying attention to whatever you write.
Caminar is a good story, well told, and it will haunt you. I'm so glad I got to meet Silka Brown and enjoy her novel as both experiences have made a lasting impression on me. Typically, I end each review with four or five of my favorite passages from the text, but this isn't your typical book so I'll leave you with a favorite poem instead:
Mariposas
I looked, pointed
my eyes toward the village, toward
Chopan. Looked through
trees to see. Something
moved. Something
fell. A limb.
CRASH.
And then—the sky
was filled
with blue, butterflies,
tiny blues
that fluttered and flew,
past my tree,
over my head, above
the forest,
into the sky.
I blinked
and saw
the last one
was yellow.
December 30, 2023
I read this book because my son read it as an independent read at his school. He loved it and begged me to read it, too. It’s a novel about the Guatemalan Civil War. It’s written like stanzas of a poem so I read it in a sitting (short and quick pages). I liked it but I did not love it like my son: however, I love that it was a book that made him love it so much he talked about it at home and wanted me to read it, as well.
August 1, 2019
This is a novel in free verse that tells the story of Carlos, a boy in Guatemala whose village is attacked by soldiers in 1981. This is a story that has multiple layers--growing up, despair, fear, bravery. What I especially liked about this book was that it shows a wide range of poetic elements such as onomatopoeia, similes, anaphora, and even two-voices.
March 8, 2022
Hauntingly beautiful. Written entirely in free verse about a young boy’s experience in the Guatemalan civil war, Brown artfully uses poem to relay a powerful story. My one beef is that Brown is an American who has only spent 5 months in Guate and therefore it makes me question her creation of the character (as it is a fictional story). Still wonderful storytelling.
March 17, 2019
Before reading this book, I thought I knew a bit about South American history, but obviously I did not since I wasn’t aware of the civil war or military coup in Guatemala. I loved how Brown ends this novel with the protagonist finding his way and how the story finishes.
February 7, 2020
The book caminar is a good book cause it gives vivid pictures of what is going on like the helicopters are flying around us smoking or the person who climbed the tree and curled up in the leaves to try to stop the sound of the helicopters they show that they could get stories into the readers head as they did to mine this is why I rated it so high
June 30, 2018
A thoughtful treatment of an obscure but dramatic time in the 1980s proxy wars throughout Central America. A verse approach allows the reader to bond with the main character, Carlos as his village is visited by the army and armed rebels deep in the mountains of Guatemala. Will be chosen because of the approachable format and read for the story!
November 8, 2018
Loved this book! Such a quick and inspiring read!
April 20, 2021
I read this book aloud for school. We all gave this book 4 stars. MD liked the story told in poetry form. CN liked it, but felt like he didn’t connect with it like he has other books. MK liked that is was poetry and that the shape or style of the poem changed with each poem. I also enjoyed the poetry. It was an interesting way to read a story.
July 11, 2021
A little slow beginning but then it picked up, I loved the nahuales animal spirit aspect
December 29, 2020
The first time I visited Guatemala was as an adult, which was the first time I learned or even remember hearing about the civil war and Mayan genocide that occurred during my lifetime. The second visit I made was to small Mayan village in the mountains (Chajul) where I learned more about the devastation faced by indigenous Mayan communities. I have been looking for a middle grade book to introduce this historical event to the students in my school and I think this is a perfect introduction. Caminar is a book written in verse relating the story of a boy who survives a massacre in his village. While based on historical events, it is a work of fiction, which is often easier for students to grasp and more likely that a student will pick it up in the first place.
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