Margarita Engle's Historic Newbery Honor
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By Debra Lau Whelan -- School Library Journal, 3/4/2009 2:10:00 PM
Margarita Engle’s The Surrender Tree (Holt, 2008), a verse novel about Cuba’s fight for independence, just received a Newbery honor, marking the first time that a Hispanic author has ever received such a distinction.
SLJ caught up with the award-winning poet to talk about her historic recognition, what goes into researching her books, and the profound impact her mother’s homeland has had on her life and work.
There's been a lot of talk about the Newbery lately. Do you agree that it’s been out of touch for not recognizing more books by minority authors or those with minority characters?
I find it unlikely that well-intentioned librarians ever made any deliberate effort to exclude a particular ethnic group, so accusations by me at this time would not be fair or helpful. Many of the early works by great Latino authors were published by small presses. Perhaps there just wasn't a wide enough circulation of Newbery-worthy Hispanic children's books during the early decades of literary diversity. I am incredibly fortunate that Henry Holt has done such an amazing job of distributing my books.
You've won many awards including the Pura Belpré Award for two consecutive years. What significance does a Newbery have for you?
I simply did not think of the Newbery Honor as within reach. When the committee called me, I was already in shock from learning that I had won the Pura Belpré Award two years in a row. I am profoundly grateful, ridiculously excited, childishly thrilled, and also deeply humbled by thoughts of all the fantastic Latino authors who preceded me, before the time was ripe for recognition. I now share the honor with them. I am standing on the shoulders of Alma Flor Ada, Tomás Rivera, Pat Mora, Esmeralda Santiago, Juan Felipe Herrera, Gary Soto, and so many others.
So what were you doing when you heard that your book was named a Newbery honor.
My husband was on his way to the airport for a business trip. I had to drive him, and then I was supposed to immediately take his wilderness search and rescue dog to the veterinarian. She had a broken tooth, her face was swelling, and she was in pain. I almost didn't take the time to pause in the whirl of activity and answer the phone. I'm so glad I did!
Then what?
After I heard the amazing news, I just sat there for a few minutes, crying with gratitude, before rushing off to the airport and the vet. I was in total disbelief. I kept wondering if I had dreamed the whole thing, or if I had let my imagination run wild. It still doesn't seem real. Once I see that beautiful silver sticker on the book jacket, I'll believe it was true.
Your husband Curtis is a research entomologist.
He has always been so incredibly supportive of my career change. Without his understanding, and his steady income from a "real job," I would not have the time and peace of mind to write.
How do your kids respond to your books?
My grown children Victor and Nicole have both read The Poet Slave of Cuba (Holt, 2007) and The Surrender Tree, and since they recently had the chance to go to Cuba with me, it really came alive for them. Victor commented that he would have chosen a book like that for a book report, because it looks long, but it's easy to read.
The Surrender Tree (Holt, 2008) is a young adult novel written in verse about a difficult and complex subject-and certainly those who finish the book are inspired to find out more. Were you appealing to a certain teenager when you wrote it?
When I wrote The Poet Slave of Cuba and The Surrender Tree as historical novels in free verse, I hoped that the form would appeal to young adult readers who want a full-length book with mature topics, but may be intimidated by the more crowded pages of traditional prose. Personally, I am in love with the novel in verse form. Poetry allows me to distill a complex story down to its emotional essence. I think students focus on the challenges characters face. The one comment I consistently get when teenagers write to me is: "I thought my own life was hard, but now I really appreciate all that I have."
Most Americans didn’t know that the Spanish instituted the first modern, systematic use of concentration camp. Was there was anything in your extensive research that surprised you?
Everything in the research surprised me. I just kept scouring the bibliographies of older and older references, until I got back to the diaries and other first-hand, eyewitness accounts, where both the emotions and the details of daily life are stored, like lost treasures, waiting to be discovered. I could never have managed this slow, painstaking process of total immersion in history without the anonymous help of countless interlibrary loan librarians. They are like angels, working unseen, and unnamed.
Where does the inspiration for your books come from?
The inspiration comes from writing about people I admire, unsung heroes lost by history. Both Juan Francisco Manzano, known as the Poet Slave of Cuba, and Rosa la Bayamesa, the wilderness nurse in The Surrender Tree, were real people born into terrible circumstances. Both chose creative, kind, generous paths for their lives, overcoming unimaginable obstacles.
What made you become a writer, especially since you were trained as an agronomist and a botanist?
As a child and teenager, I wrote poetry, in part because I loved books, libraries, and words, and in part because I loved the outdoors. I lived in the big city, in northeast Los Angeles, but I craved a connection to nature. I grew up in the '60s, idealistic and eager, so I studied agronomy and botany, planning to feed the hungry and save the world. I was the first woman agronomy professor at Cal Poly Pomona, and a Ph.D. candidate at U.C. Riverside, when I suddenly had the chance to take a creative writing seminar with Tomás Rivera. He was a migrant farm worker who studied hard and became an incredible role model, the first Hispanic chancellor of a University of California campus. He was also a great poet, a great educator, and a pioneering author of bilingual children's literature. With his encouragement, I became a writer, and never looked back.
Your mother is from Cuba and your dad is from Los Angeles. As a second-generation American, how did you develop such a deep attachment to your mother's homeland?
During summer visits to my mother's extended family, I fell in love with the island, both the warm, friendly people, and the lush, green, tropical nature. It is a mysterious, deeply personal attachment that has persisted throughout my life, and frames my work. For more than three decades, travel restrictions prevented me from recapturing those childhood experiences. Beginning in 1991, I was finally able to visit, and the magic is still there. As soon as I set foot on Cuban soil, I am a child again.
What are some of your fondest childhood memories of Cuba?
The farm where my grandmother was born offered me a freedom to explore that I could never have hoped to experience in Los Angeles: riding horses, picking wild fruit, watching my cowboy cousins do rope tricks and round up the free-range cows for milking. All my life, I have retained intensely visual memories of that farm. The bathroom was an outhouse. The shower was a bucket on a string. For me, it was time travel. In essence, I experienced my grandmother's childhood. It was living history. I also treasure memories of the long summer visits we spent nearby, in my mother's hometown of Trinidad de Cuba, with its cobblestone streets, traditional lifestyle, and beautifully preserved colonial architecture. Trinidad is now a World Heritage Site, restored by UNESCO. It has become a major tourist destination for Europeans and Canadians who want to see a place lost in time.
What kind of volunteer work do you do?
Many years ago, I used to write letters on behalf of imprisoned writers in various countries, until someone who had been arrested in one of those countries tipped me off that they were often treated worse when letters arrived, instead of better. Now, I devote all my volunteer time and energy to hiding in the wilderness. I am a volunteer "victim." I pretend to be lost, so that search and rescue dogs can practice finding someone. It is probably one of the world's most unusual, and peaceful, volunteer projects. I enjoy hours of solitude in a beautiful place, while other volunteers and their canine partners rush around trying to find me. For the dogs, it's just a long, fun game of hide and seek.
What’s up next for you?
My next novel in verse is Tropical Secrets, Holocaust Refugees in Cuba, due out from Henry Holt this April. The history is real, but the characters are fictional. During the late 1930's, when ships filled with German-Jewish refugees were turned away from New York and Toronto, they anchored in Havana Harbor, and stayed until most of the passengers received asylum. Cuban teenagers volunteered to help teach them Spanish. I was inspired by the concept of safe harbors and the kindness of strangers. It is a triumphant concept, with timeless, universal implications for all times and places, and for people of any faith.
What impact do you think Fidel Castro's death will have on Cuba?
I imagine that depends entirely on decisions made in the United States. President Obama has a window of opportunity, right now, to lift travel restrictions and help Americans admit that the U.S. economic embargo of nearly 50 years has hurt families like mine, not governments like Castro's.
Just wondering what your response is to the recent ruling by the US Circuit Court of Appeals that Vamos a Cuba can be removed from Miami-Dade County school libraries?
I have not seen the book, so I don't know about this specific case, but in general I don't believe in censorship, on either side of the Florida Straits. I think that if we want to enjoy and retain our own freedom of expression, or freedom of any sort, we have to grant it to others as well.
