The Monday Book – Solito: A Memoir by Javier Zamora

Guest review by Janelle Bailey, avid reader and always learning; sometimes substitute teaching, sometimes grandbabysitting, sometimes selling books

Solito: A Memoir by Javier Zamora

Solito: A Memoir by Javier Zamora

There is so much good to be said about this book, and “Everyone” “should” read it. I know of few other books I could say so sincerely were so “good to the last drop (word)” as this one. There are so many gifts from the adult Javier to the reader who gets to the finish, completing this entire journey with 9-year-old Javier.

A memoir Javier Zamora wrote years after his own experiences migrating from El Salvador to the USA, this book is simply stellar for so many reasons, a few detailed here.

The writing is top notch. For anyone who has studied Spanish, there will be an additional layer of satisfaction, as you will understand even better things I did not take time to translate, hoping that I caught the essence of it all either in context or in the little I do understand, either from my own learning or from similarities to French. The only word I looked up, for its being used so frequently and my uncertainty of its denotation was the word “tambien,” really just “also” or “me, too.” I even appreciate and “enjoyed” Zamora’s continually punctuating questions–the ones in English as well–with the Spanish language’s dual question marks. I liked that he hung onto that…and it sort of kept me grounded in the merging of his nine-year-old non-English speaking self and his adult writer self, speaking in both languages and even different iterations of Spanish from his home, through Mexico, and into the US.

The truth–all of the truths–of this story are soul-wrenching, gut-wrenching, and heart- and soul-lifting, tambien, and a thoughtful reader cannot help but empathize (yet thoughtless readers are unlikely to read the book anyway) with all that Javiercito experiences and learns and endures and…just all of it…on this challenging migration, at age nine, from El Salvador to the USA to be reunited with his parents and then live from then on in California. I was very, very much reminded of American Dirt, which I read years ago but still think of in all that it stirred, and yet that was fiction. Solito is truth…Zamora’s own personal experiences. And I 100% endured it all…only vicariously, of course…in this week I spent slowly reading this book. It cannot–should not–be a “fast read” for anyone, as that would take away all that comes from living with Javier through these critical weeks of his childhood. I will always remember and keep associated with this book and Zamora’s story the things I also went through this last week in very different struggles of my own–not for clean water or a bathroom or life and death things by any means–but struggling to teach and demand respectful behavior from teenagers who don’t appreciate allllllll the privilege they have, even those who think their lives are quite rough. They have no idea, maybe 95% of them, how much tougher it could be.

Javier is not the main “character” but the author’s own nine-year-old self, and yet he will grab onto your heart and have you rooting for him and all others who ever have or will endure in real life anything at all like his story. And additionally the fondness developed for all who come to the aid of Javier on this rigorous and challenging adventure and who become his “family” for this while will likely fill your tank as well, for Zamora nails right on the head that thing that many of us have experienced, which is becoming very close to people through shared situations or circumstances that forever change us as well as create friendships of a remarkably enduring variety, even when miles or loss of contact information prevent us from ever being as close again.

If you don’t know what to get someone–anyone who is a willing reader–for an upcoming gift (and for sure you should be willing to gift yourself!) or your library hold list has room for an addition: get Solito now. If you already own it and have been waiting, I can fairly certainly promise you that this is the read you need right now to put you in the holiday spirit–both for appreciating what you have, sharing what you can, and considering all “others” for at least a little while.

Javier Zamora: it has been a true pleasure to “meet” you. I’ll hold out hope that at some point in time I get to give you the big hug in person that I’d like to right now. Hearty congratulations on this remarkable writing accomplishment…sincerely.

Come back next Monday for another book review!

Cynicism Is Underrated

Writer Wendy’s weekly blog

When I was teaching at the local college, friends and I formed the CAB club: cynical altruist bitches. We believed that it was important to do good but that doing it wouldn’t make any difference.

Diogenes the Cynic, of Greek philosophy

Our fundraising model—although we never implemented it—was to rob gas stations and give the money to charity. But since we were all professors, getting five people together at once on that kind of schedule proved impossible. Hence our low funding.

We did get a grant once, $12 from the Provost of the College to buy red felt-tipped pens so we could correct errant apostrophes and statements of fact on public signs. None of us ever got prosecuted for the graffiti we left across town. My favorite correction was one of members who corrected “Vote Republican, Save America” to “Enslave.”

Cynics get a lot done, you have to admit. We’re grumpy and mutter things under our breath while we write policies we know will be rejected, demanding things like not promoting scholarship opportunities to students if they require a video application. Why do you need to know if the student is pretty? Or Black? Or Trans? (We did actually get one such application process changed; the problem with success among cynics is it deflates rather than fuels our contrariness-energized campaigns.)

Jokes among cynics are easy to spot, especially at Christmas. I admit, to this day one of my favorite responses when someone approaches me saying “Ho Ho Ho” is to snarl, “How dare you shame women like that?”

Cynicism walks close to bad virtue signaling. Recently some friends were grousing about how hard it can be to find the right words for a grant application to describe people who don’t have money and probably came from families who had experienced poverty before them. As the group shared how bad some of the options were—economically challenged, financially at-risk, perpetual poverty—someone asked, “Why can’t we just say ‘poor?’”

A virtue signaler huffed. “That feels like shaming people. The granting agency would and should flag it.”

A second virtue signaler tried to climb on top. “People who are poor care a lot less what we call them than whether we can bring resources to them.”

To which the CAB member in the group snapped, “We’re not bringing resources to them; we’re funding the salary for someone who will have to figure out what to call them in the next grant we write off their backs—I mean, on their behalf.”

Merry Christmas to all the cynics out there.