As a fan of urban geography, I’ve been fascinated by the story of Rondo since I first heard about it, well into my adult life. Part of that fascination comes from “How did I miss what was going on?”
My dad worked for the Minnesota Highway Department, my great aunt—who we visited frequently—lived in an apartment just a few blocks from Rondo, and we frequently were in and around (and even briefly lived in) St. Paul during the late fifties and early sixties. I even started reading the daily newspapers around 1963 when most of this book is set. Yet somehow, I never saw the construction, never read about it in the paper, never heard anyone in the family even mention it.
And I guess that’s the story of Rondo: an enormous interstate highway project, taking place in plain sight for the better part of a decade. It tore out an entire neighborhood, completely altered the landscape through the center of the city, and displaced more than 600 families and countless businesses. But somehow all of that remained invisible to the people in the surrounding community.
Debra Stone’s book (of which I read an advance copy) is listed on Amazon for young adults. And I wondered about that when I first started reading it—Rondo is seen through the eyes of seventh grader, Zenobia, who spends the summer of 1963 with her grandparents and experiences firsthand the impact of the project on her family and the community.
The reader can’t help but share Zenobia’s feelings of powerlessness and confusion as one by one, houses are taken and razed, as longtime friends and neighbors suddenly are gone. It’s powerful stuff.
While the author never says it outright, Zenobia seems to be reliving Stone’s own memories. Told vividly, but without hyperbole, this is not just a book for young adults. It transcends YA, standing as a hidden history of what happened in plain view of a larger community that chose to ignore it—a wonderful and heartfelt book.
The only things that initially had me a little confused were in the last quarter of the book. The actual transition of Zenobia’s family to their new house was skipped over. And a handful of unexpected elements were either injected into the story or expanded from earlier on, including the ghost boy, the anthropomorphizing of the house, and Ruby Pearl’s “talking” dog.
Even so, all of those were effective ways of telling parts of the story. It chooses not to follow the traditional template one might expect from a novel, unless maybe you read As I Lay Dying and your expectations were shaped by someone like William Faulkner.
It presents slices of life in a way that tells a larger story, one where even when the bad guys win, the resilience of the protagonists is able to carry them forward. It’s deeply rooted in history and family history, and while it may appear to be “only” a story about Rondo, it’s really a story about people and in its telling reveals so much more.