Four star
Very good!
Theologically, historically, and logically accurate.
Dislike: page 102:
“Come on, let's go!" The bus driver looked up in the rearview mirror and yelled at her." And if you're late again tomorrow morning, you're going to have to find your own ride — or walk." Lydia held the tears in - just barely - scooped up her books, and scrambled off the bus as fast as her legs would take her.
"Speak English much?"
She didn't turn to see who had yelled the insult, but she could guess. Mandy Witherspoon, What did that girl have against her? She wished she didn't hear some of the taunts at school, wished she understood why some of the kids looked at her with so much hatred sometimes.
"You don't belong here!"
"Get back over the border where you came from!"
But we're not going back. Lydia stood in her muddy front yard for a minute, catching her breath and letting the rain wash the tears from her face. She didn't really miss what they'd left behind in Mexico. Except back there, everybody else was just as poor as Lydia and her mother.
Just as poor, and just as desperate to find something better. At least here ...
"At least here what, Lord?" she prayed out loud as she pushed open the front door to their
Page 103:
apartment. Her thirteen-year-old sister wasn't home, as usual. And her grandmother would not return home for another two hours, maybe later, depending on what shift they gave her at the burger place. "What do we have now that's better than back home?"
Well, plenty, when she stopped to think about it. She sat down at the wobbly kitchen table and spread out her soggy books. Books, for one thing.
A school to go to, and not all the kids were as mean as Mandy Witherspoon. A tiny apartment with a bathroom and a telephone. Three small rooms, which was not much compared to what a lot of other Americans had.
But compared to what they had back in Mexico? She would not soon forget the tar-paper shack they used to live in, her and a dozen other relatives: aunts and uncles and nieces and neph-ews, and all without a bathroom. She rested her head on her open English textbook for a minute, telling the Lord she was sorry for the way she complained. He had brought them here for a rea-son, she knew. She and Grandmother had prayed about it, looked for the answer.
"I'm sorry, God. Help me to know why I'm here, and what you want me to do."
But she was tired of trying to figure it out.
Page 108: More people than ever speak Spanish in the United States! In fact, between the years 1990 and 2000, the number of Hispanics (people whose families came from Latin America) quadrupled in places like Georgia and Tennessee. We'd better learn to say a little more than just "Hola!"
Here’s my problem with that: what THE HECK is divisive political junk doing in this book?
It adds NOTHING to the story.
So it loses one star.
Still four star!