Buried Onions

Buried Onions

by Gary Soto
Buried Onions

Buried Onions

by Gary Soto

Paperback(First Edition)

$10.99 
  • SHIP THIS ITEM
    Qualifies for Free Shipping
  • PICK UP IN STORE
    Check Availability at Nearby Stores

Related collections and offers


Overview

Eddie's father, two uncles, and best friend are all dead, and it's a struggle for him not to end up the same way. Violence makes Fresno wallow in tears, as if a huge onion were buried beneath the city. Making an effort to walk a straight line despite constant temptations and frustrations, Eddie searches for answers—and discovers that his closest friends may actually be his worst enemies.
Includes a reader's guide and a glossary of Spanish words and phrases.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780152062651
Publisher: HarperCollins
Publication date: 12/01/2006
Edition description: First Edition
Pages: 176
Sales rank: 364,889
Product dimensions: 5.00(w) x 7.00(h) x 0.44(d)
Lexile: 850L (what's this?)
Age Range: 12 - 17 Years

About the Author

About The Author
Gary Soto's first book for young readers, Baseball in April and Other Stories, won the California Library Association's Beatty Award and was named an ALA Best Book for Young Adults. He has since published many novels, short stories, plays, and poetry collections for adults and young people. He lives in Berkeley, California. Visit his website at garysoto.com.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

I knew the mortuary students would get good jobs because my cousin had died recently and my father and two uncles were dead, all of them now with arms like the arms of praying mantises, crooked and thin as whispers. My best friend from high school was also dead, his head having been caught like bulk laundry in the giant rollers of a steel foundry. It was his first good job, and his last. I pictured him with a head like a hatchet, and if I met him, say in heaven, or some dream that was close to heaven, I wouldn't know if I should say something first or let him speak the tinny words of someone whose head had been flattened by iron. "Juanito," I decided I'd say, cheerfully patting a bench to invite him to sit next to me, but looking the other way. "You remember when you stuck your flnger in a bottle and couldn't get it out?"

I had gone to school with Juan since we were seven, and I knew his sister Belinda, now heavy with a baby, her second and possibly her last because her husband, junior, was in Vacaville prison. She hadn't softened. She was a chola with wings of blue over each eye and a tear tattooed on her left cheek.

I thought about Juan while sitting at a wobbly metal table on the campus of City College. The mortuary students all had clean fingers and sat over coffees that I imagined cooled quicker than the coffee regular students drank. I figured that when they handled the bodies, the dead stole some of their heat, and later, when they climbed the steps of the dank basement, the students of that ghoulish business had to stand in the sun and quiver until the heat returned to their bodies.

The sun was climbing over the treesof City College and soon the black asphalt would shimmer with vapors. I had a theory about those vapors, which were not released by the sun's heat but by a huge onion buried under the city. This onion made us cry. Tears leapt from our eyelashes and stained our faces. Babies in strollers pinched up their faces and wailed for no reason. Perhaps as practice for the coming years. I thought about the giant onion, that remarkable bulb of sadness.

I returned to my apartment, which was in a part of Fresno where fences sagged and the paint blistered on houses. The swamp coolers squeaked like squirrels. Dogs pulled at chains, the clover leaf of their padded paws hardened by years of this kind of traction. Laundry wept from the lines, the faded flags of poor, ignorant, unemployable people. The old sat on porches, fanning themselves, stirring up that onion smell so that it moved up and down the block. Some guys, all of them Mexican like me,. worked on their cars, and the young mothers stood on their front lawns, talking as they pushed their strollers back and forth a few inches. Still the babies cried, and their crying stirred up our frustration because we were like those strollers going back and forth, back and forth, getting nowhere.

For me, there wasn't much to do except eat and sleep, watch out for drive-bys, and pace myself through life. I had dropped out of City College, where I was taking classes in air-conditioning. I quit not long after my cousin, mi primo, Jesus got killed. He was at a club with Angel, his best friend and carnal, a blood brother. On that night he was exactly that, a blood brother, as Angel eased Jesus down to the sticky black-and-white tiled floor. My poor primo. He had died all because he told another guy that he had yellow shoes. They were in the rest room, at the sink I imagined, and my cousin was happy he had a job and a new woman, so happy that he wanted to talk. Jesus made the mistake of looking down at this guy's shoes and saying something. This guy pushed a dirty blade right into my cousin's clean heart. Or so I heard.

I tried not to think about Jesus, or Juan, or my father and uncles, all of them on their racks of black, black earth. But on those days when I saw the mortuary students huddled together, I couldn't help but think of them. I shook off those images and opened the door to my apartment. Roses flowered near the living-room window, sweetening the entrance. I had no more than a couch and two chairs, college books that I intended to resell, a bed and dresser, and family pictures angled so they almost looked at each other. I had a print of a ship riding the ocean, its sail full, going somewhere. It was fake art, the kind of thing you can pick up at a swap meet or get as a gift when you buy a gaudy red sofa from a Mexican furniture store.

The apartment was stuffy, hot. I turned on the swamp cooler, poured myself a glass of cold water from the refrigerator, and sat down with a sigh on theporch steps. I got up and checked the mail slot nothing just a reddish rust stain on my fingertips. There never was anything, just junk mail and my gas and electric bill. Even my mother, who lived in Merced with her sister Gloria, who had hearing aids in both wrinkled ears, seldom wrote. I sipped my water while studying a red ant that was hauling a white speck, the bread of its living, pinched in its mouth. I chuckled. The ant was earning his keep.

of "Keep running, little dude," I muttered. I told myself to keep a steady weight on my shoulders and to stay out of trouble and run a straight line-to stay away from the police and the rumblings of vatos who have nothing to do.

Buried Onions. Copyright © by Gary Soto. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

What People are Saying About This

From the Publisher

"Soto's descriptions are poetic, and he creates deep feelings of heat and despair. A powerful and thought-provoking read."—School Library Journal

Reading Group Guide

Introduction

Both moving and gritty, Buried Onions paints an unforgettable portrait of life in a gang infested, inner-city neighborhood in California as seen through the eyes of an impoverished Mexican-American teenager. The narrator of the book must deal with the stress of gangs, family, and poverty while fighting to maintain his integrity and values in the face of these pressures.

His father, best friend, and cousin dead from recent acts of violence, nineteen-year-old Eddie is doing his best to survive on the mean streets of southeast Fresno without suffering a similar fate. All he wants is to forget his violent past, hold down an honest job, and walk a straight line. But Eddie, pressured by his aunt and friends of his cousin to avenge his cousin's death, finds himself slipping closer and closer to a dangerous and violent end.

Set in a poor barrio, where heat vapors swelter from the asphalt and thirteen-year-old boys carry knives, Buried Onions is the tale of a teenager trying to escape the influences of the gangs and violence around him. But making an honest living proves to be easier said than done.

A richly felt first-person narrative guides us through Eddie's coming of age, from universal adolescent experiences like flirting with pretty girls and trying to find a job to inner-city trials like knife threats and police arrests. Gary Soto's poignant novel and moving narrative allow all teenagers to relate to the gritty reality of Eddie's life.

Questions for Discussion

  1. Eddie's experiences are greatly influenced by his neighborhood and ethnicity, yet any reader of the book is able to relate to Eddie. Throughoutthe novel he faces the issues of friendship, trust, girls, family, work, gangs, and death. How are Eddie's experiences similar to those of any teenager? What are some of his experiences that are a direct result of his environment?

  2. Buried Onions is rich with vivid language and imagery. What are some of the recurring images that appear throughout the novel? What do they help to convey about Eddie and the world he lives in? What mood, tone, and reaction do these recurring images elicit? How do they affect your reading of the book?

  3. Discuss the situation when Eddie and his nina take Queenie to be put to sleep. How does Eddie handle the situation? Eddie does something that he considers wrong by taking the money -- as he says, "I felt bad, but I had to do it; I was starving and had to go on living." Do you think it was wrong of Eddie to do what he did? What do Eddie's feelings on taking the money tell you about his character and situation? Does it blur your notions of a clear-cut sense of right and wrong?

  4. When Mr. Stiles's truck is stolen from Eddie's driveway, he does not call the police to report the theft. Likewise, when they find the truck, Eddie and José choose to handle it themselves instead of calling any authorities. Why? What does this imply about the reputation and perception of Mexican teenagers in Fresno? What would have been the likely reaction of the police?

  5. Although Eddie would like to accept Jesús's death and move on, he is pressured by Angel and his aunt to avenge his cousin's murder. Explain the two perspectives—Eddie's versus Angel's—on how Eddie should handle the situation. Why is it so difficult for Eddie to simply say no to them?

  6. Discuss Eddie's relationship with Mr. Stiles throughout the book. How do you think Mr. Stiles sees Eddie? What are some of the ways in which both characters stereotype each other? Put yourself in their shoes, and consider whether you can relate to each character's actions. Why or why not? If you were either one, would you have forgiven the other, as Eddie and Mr. Stiles forgive each other?

  7. How does Eddie feel about joining the navy? What does he see as advantages and disadvantages? Do you think these are good reasons to make such a big decision? Why? Why do José and Coach think it would be a good idea?

  8. Throughout the book José and Coach prove themselves to be loyal and trustworthy friends to Eddie. Describe how this is shown without ever being stated. What role do these characters play in each others' lives? What is the significance of the fishing trip?

  9. Buried Onions is told in the first person, how do you think this adds to the impact of the novel? Why is it stronger than if the story had been told in the third-person?

  10. Discuss the end of the book. What happened within Eddie? What do you think makes Eddie cry, and why? Do you think he went back to the van, or returned to Fresno?

About the author

Gary Soto is a distinguished poet and author of numerous books for adults and children. His work has garnered many honors and awards, including fellowships from the Guggenheim Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts. Mr. Soto lives with his family in Berkeley, California.

From the B&N Reads Blog

Customer Reviews