Books like Ordinary Girls

This book is written in verse, so the whole thing is like one long poem. The audiobook is read by the author, which I think captures the intent of the book beautifully.

Xiomara, or X, is a young girl living in Harlem who feels suffocated by her overbearing religious mother and her brilliant twin brother’s academic accomplishments. X writes poetry for her school assignments, but she also uses it as a form of diary to express the feelings she can’t otherwise. She challenges religion, her mother’s opinions, and the friends she makes at school.

One thing I really liked was how she’d write one poem for her assignment, and then the following poem would be titled “what I actually turned in.” The book uses different styles of poetry to convey different feelings and to set different scenes, and it explores a wide range of topics—from religion to dating and sex… show more.

This is the first book I ever read by a Latina author. I was nineteen years old and a student at a small private liberal arts college in Connecticut. My professor assigned it to my American Literature class. I thought she’d made a mistake because some of the words in the book were in Spanish. I didn’t know you could do that—write in English but have some words in Spanish peppered throughout the dialogue and text. I was stunned.

I remember reading about Esperanza and her experiences in her Mexican neighborhood in Chicago, meeting characters on Mango Street, and falling in love with both the story and Cisneros’ playful, vulnerable, poetic writing style. After reading this book, I knew I also wanted to be a writer.

All I can say is the pigeon scene. You will have to read the novel to find out what I am referencing, but oh my God, this novel is so good. Dominicans and Dominican-Americans in 1960s New York City? Fierce female protagonists? Writing that makes me stop and want to copy down sentences on a Post-It? Yes, please. I was cracking up, teary-eyed, and satisfied when reading this gem of a novel. I would read anything Angie Cruz writes.

Oh my goodness—this book! I couldn’t see the pages in those final chapters because I was crying for these characters and all they went through crossing the southern border into the United States.

To this day, I still remember vivid images and moments from the novel. I won’t spoil the story for you, but here’s one: a female character wearing a baseball cap and jacket and pretending to be a male because the journey north is often much harder and riskier for women. I know I will think about this trio of characters for a long time.

Rivera’s only major work, Family Installments has influenced many Latinx writers, including Junot Diaz. Published in 1982, it was one of the earliest novels capturing the diasporican experience of the Great Migration in the 1950s. Rivera’s protagonist, Santos Malánguez, narrates his family’s journey from Puerto Rico to New York in great detail, often with sharp insight and humor. As a young aspiring writer, I identified with Santos, especially as he found, in reading and books, solace from a dreary life of struggle. No other book depicts diasporican life so richly and comprehensively—from harsh rural life on the island to tenement living, abusive parochial school education, rip-off credit scams, exploitive working conditions, and the lingering desire to return to the homeland.

I have always been fascinated by storytelling, and this book about a librarian pleases me so! What I especially love about this book is the metaphoric writing device of planting story seeds and how Pura Belpré, storyteller, puppeteer, and New York City’s first Puerto Rican librarian, shared her tales from her homeland along her journey.

The lyrical writing captures the magic of Belpré’s stories, inspiring readers to read and write. 

Through friendships with Borinqueñxs and interest in the island, I don’t consider myself wholly ignorant about Puerto Rico. Like the Philippines, Puerto Rico was claimed by the US following the Spanish American War, but once again, when I tried to learn more about that era, I ran into a brick wall. Marisel Vera recovers that history while offering all the pleasures of a traditional family saga. She brings the reader close to the daily lives and loves of a family of coffee farmers who struggle first under Spanish rule and then the system established by the US. Vera also taught me something I’d never heard of: the deceptive recruitment that carried newly impoverished but still hopeful Puerto Ricans off to Hawaii to labor in the sugar fields. 

I was surprised at the beginning because I thought Vico would be a main character, but he ended up being the monster’s victim in the first few pages. A very chilling scene. The author was great at describing Puerto Rico to the point I could picture the setting vividly without ever visiting Puerto Rico in real life. All the scenes were interesting and moved the plot forward. I really liked how the teenagers teamed up to try and solve the mystery of the monster. They each had a past they regretted. My favorite line in the book, "You’ve been watching too many movies. Things just aren’t that interesting in real life.”

Put simply, in The Sovereign Colony Antonio Sotomayor uses a fascinating exception to prove an important general rule. That is, he explains clearly just how powerful modern sports can be in defining national identity by showing that Puerto Ricans have used sports to claim a sense of nationhood despite the fact that theirs is a nation but not a nation-state. He shows that whenever the Puerto Rican flag flies at an international sporting event islanders express their national identity and negotiate the character of US colonialism, and he carefully demonstrates how politicians and sports figures worked to make sports a site of Puerto Rican pride and identity.

Maraniss writes books that are meticulously researched while still providing sweeping perspectives. This biography about one of baseball’s greatest players is no exception. Born in rural Puerto Rico, Clemente became one of the first–and greatest–Latino players in the major leagues. His unique grace, dignity and charity for others helped him rise above simply being a “baseball player” to become a symbol of an era. Clemente’s death in a 1972 airplane crash while on a mission to deliver food and supplies to victims of an earthquake in Nicaragua was both tragic and revealtory about the goodness of the man.