Yamile Saied Méndez is quickly carving out a space for herself as an author of books for young people and children. A proud Latina, she is marketed as a contemporary of Elizabeth Acevedo and Erika Sanchez, and it’s a worthy comparison. Méndez’s middle grade novel On These Magic Shores tells the story of a Latina girl whose mother mysteriously disappears for a few days, leaving her and her younger sisters to fend for themselves. I was drawn to the novel because I am curious about how authors for young readers grapple with the everyday violence people of color face in this country. The novel summary raises the specter of immigration enforcement perhaps being responsible for the mother’s disappearance. How do we share these very important stories of trauma and systemic oppression to our young in a loving and caring way?
Méndez responds by calling on the strength of the eldest daughter. Especially in Latinx families, the eldest daughter bears a huge responsibility, partially raising her younger siblings with a high level of expectation and control from her parents. In On These Magic Shores, Méndez conjures a Latina girl, who is ambitious, sharp, and like many of our eldest daughters, unbelievably strong. “Peter Pan was an idiot,” Minnie begins, “Only an idiot would wish to be a child forever.” Minnie quickly sets herself off as a no-nonsense girl with big dreams of eventually becoming the president of the United States. Minnie’s first conflict is her desire to be cast as the lead female in Peter Pan, as it fits into the plans' of her slow but sure ascent to the highest office in the country. This move on the path of Méndez is brilliant, because it allows her to critique and play with Peter Pan. Minnie’s frequent challenges to the teachers and adults around her provides young readers with a model of how to advocate for themselves, especially when the adults in their lives may not have the skills to advocate for them. It gives them the space to process the racial tensions in a lot of canonical literature. At times, this tendency towards societal critique felt a little heavy-handed, leaving me seriously impressed with how woke and informed Minnie is throughout the novel. That said, I think the presence of such a socially conscious character is important to introduce younger readers to conversations about privilege and difference; Minnie’s observations and remarks throughout the novel are less jarring the less you underestimate our youth.
The novel managed to maintain a rather realist outlook even while introducing the occasional miracle of magic and even a fairy or two. The magic acts appear at moments when Minnie or her sisters would have otherwise suffered immense loss or harm and exist in a field of uncertainty at first. There is no way of writing about fairies without a bit of mush and glitter, but the mush and glitter are couched well, delivered from the unconstrained perspective of Minnie’s younger sister Avi, who sees the fairies and interacts with them most directly.
Minnie shows incredible wit and resilience in the face of unfair, dire circumstances. I most appreciate this book for the way it encourages the young to see and appreciate the labor of this eldest daughter, for centering her dreams without sugarcoating the obstacles that stand between them and Minnie.
I recommend this book for anyone interested in middle grade novels and YA, especially those that feature marginalized voices.