Gr 9 Up-Sammy Santos-responsible, bright, and self-contained-grows up in the Hollywood barrio of Las Cruces, NM, during the last half of the 1960s. S enz provides the Mexican-American teen with a voice that is genuine and compelling, realistic in its limitations and nuances as he comes to grips with the death of Juliana, his first love, and the increasingly complex demands and needs of his remaining friends, as well as of his family and neighbors. Subplots involve the role of the Church in the barrio, the movement from authoritarian school administrations to the loosening of rules during the Vietnam War period, the realistic portrayal of what happened to too many gay teens during this period (and continues to happen today), the effects of the draft on poor young men of color, the roles adopted by individual teens as they mature within a community's social order, and family ties that require people to choose sometimes for themselves and sometimes for others in the family. S enz works through all this material neatly and so effectively that Sammy deserves to become a character of lasting interest to both casual readers and literature classes. Expletives appear throughout as do large helpings of Spanish, without italics and not always with English echoed afterward, in perfect keeping both with Sammy's world and his self-perception. His hopes and plans for a better life, beyond the hold of Hollywood are poignant and palpable. This is a powerful and authentic look at a community's aspirations and the tragic losses that result from shattered dreams.-Francisca Goldsmith, Berkeley Public Library, CA Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.
Sammy and Juliana in Hollywood
Narrated by Robert Ramirez
Benjamin Alire SáenzUnabridged — 9 hours, 10 minutes
Sammy and Juliana in Hollywood
Narrated by Robert Ramirez
Benjamin Alire SáenzUnabridged — 9 hours, 10 minutes
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Overview
-Young Adult Library Services Association
A young adult novel Latino-style-the year is 1969. America is at war, “Hollywood” is a dirt-poor Chicano barrio in small town America, and Sammy and Juliana, about to head into their senior year, are in love.
Sammy & Juliana in Hollywood is a Chicano ode to survival. In so many ways, in so many of the characters' lives, I see images of riding out the storms of youth, of a cultural revolution, of war and of death. But of love, too: lost love, found love, the love for friends and family, for place. What else is there to chase after?
-René Saladaña, Jr., author of Finding our Way and The Jumping Tree
Editorial Reviews
* "Sammy's first-person narration, observant and self-aware, affords a window into a world of quiet despair and stubborn hope, set appropriately against the backdrops of late-1960s social ferment. . . His message is one of victory through endurance rather than escape." — Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books, starred review
"The barrio setting is as palpable as the wings that beat against Sammy's insides when danger lurks. The tough but caring family, neighbors, and friends speak in authentic dialogue liberally laced with Spanish that adds texture to the story, and an empathetic teacher and a stand against the school dress code provide a small victory to help Sammy weather the racism and poverty that fuel his emotions and his losses." — Booklist
"Written in a poetic first-person voice that incorporates some Spanish into the narrative, Sammy's story of love, loss, and strong family ties is hard to forget." — The Horn Book
"Saenz provides the Mexican-American teen with a voice that is genuine and compelling. . . This is a powerful and authentic look at a community's aspirations and the tragic losses that result from shattered dreams." — School Library Journal
Américas Award - Consortium of Latin American Studies Programs Best Books for Young Adults - Young Adult Library Services Association (YALSA) Blue Ribbon List - Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books Capitol Choices - Capitol Choices Los Angeles Times Book Prizes Finalist - Los Angeles Times NSK Neustadt Prize for Children's and Young Adult Literature Finalist - World Literature Today Outstanding Books for the College Bound - American Library Association (ALA) TAYSHAS Reading List - Texas Library Association (TLA)
Sammy’s story of love, loss, and strong family ties is hard to forget.
In Hollywood, New Mexico, 16-year-old Sammy Santos falls in love with Juliana, a girl with dark secrets and fire in her eyes. The novel is far more than a coming-of-age story as Sammy deals with first love, poverty, the War in Vietnam, drug overdoses, murder, and racism. Robert Ramirez's performance captures Sammy's introspection, honesty, and moments of poetic lyricism, creating a living, breathing teenager on the edge of awareness. Ramirez is just as at home handling street language and poetry. Liberal sprinklings of Spanish are read so skillfully that the non-Spanish-speaking listener understands the gist of what's being said. Gritty as the unforgiving New Mexican desert, Sammy's story makes compelling listening for older teens. S.J.H. © AudioFile 2006, Portland, Maine
Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940169326543 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Penguin Random House |
| Publication date: | 04/11/2006 |
| Edition description: | Unabridged |
Read an Excerpt
Sammy and Juliana in Hollywood
By Benjamin Saenz
HarperCollins Publishers, Inc.
Copyright © 2006 Benjamin SaenzAll right reserved.
ISBN: 0060843748
Chapter One
I remember her eyes, the gray of a sky about to let loose a storm. I remember the way she placed her finger on her bottom lip when she was lost in thoughts as dark as her eyes. I'd have given anything to live that close to her lips.
I used to picture her eyes as I was lying in bed. Her eyes and that finger touching her bottom lip. I'd lie there and listen to the radio on my favorite station, K-O-M-A in Oklahoma City. It reached me all the way to where I lived in southern New Mexico. But it could only reach me at night. Just at night. I used to wait and hope they'd play that song by Frankie Valle You're just too good . . . Even if I was half asleep, if I heard the song, I'd suddenly be awake. I'd hum along and put together a scene: a girl dressed up for me and a dance floor shiny as glass. Even the ice cubes in our drinks sparkled in the light. That girl was Juliana. And the whole damned world was mine. I need you ba-a-by . . . And then, after the song was over, I'd fall asleep exhausted from trying to keep the two of us together. Being obsessed with Juliana was hard work. The word obsession came into my vocabulary the second I met Juliana.
It was the way she looked at me that kept me coming back. Just as I was about to give up on her,just as I was about to tell her, "Look, screw it all. I don't need to suffer like this. Just can't take it." Every time I was about to tell her something like that, she stretched out her arm and made a fist. She'd tap her fist with her other hand, until I nodded and pried it open. I would stare at her open palm, and she would ask: "Do you see?"
And I would nod and say, "I see."
"You see everything now, don't you?"
"Yes, everything," I'd say.
"You see everything."
"Yes. Todo, todo, todo."
Now, when I think of her open, outstretched hand, I have to admit I didn't see a thing. I see my lips moving, "Yes, todo, todo." I wonder why I lied to her. Maybe it wasn't a bad lie. Maybe it was. Maybe there aren't any good lies. I don't know. I still don't know. And I didn't know anything about reading palms either. I've never known anything about that. Not then. Not now. One thing I did know--no matter how many times she let me pry her hand open, her fists were still clenched. They'd stay that way forever.
Juliana letting me pry open her fist. That was a lie. Maybe it was a good lie. I think it was.
I told her once that she collected secrets like some people collected stamps.
"You're full of shit," she said. "Where do you get that crap? You're so full of shit."
"No, I'm not," I said.
"Well," she said, "everyone needs to collect something."
"Collect something else," I said.
"Like what?"
"Books."
"No, I don't like them. That's your thing, Sammy. Did you know everyone calls you 'the Librarian'?" She looked at me. I pretended I knew. I didn't. But I pretended. And she let me. "And besides," she said, "only gringos can afford books. But secrets don't cost a damn thing."
She was wrong about that. Secrets cost plenty.
I used to write her notes in class that said, "Stop collecting."
"Not yet," she'd write back.
"Then tell me one. Just one secret." What did I think she was going to tell me?
The first time she told me what she was thinking, I found myself trembling. "I've always wanted to smoke a cigarette." That's what she whispered. I pictured her wearing a backless dress in some smoky bar with a cigarette between her lips. A drink in her hand. I pictured my hand on her bare back--that's what made me tremble. And that song came into my head you'd be like . . . I almost offered to buy her a pack, buy her two packs, buy her a carton. But I was sixteen and could never talk when I needed to--and my pockets were empty. So I just stood there trying to figure out what to do with my hands. I wanted to die.
That night, I decided to be a man. I was tired of sitting there like a chair. That was me. Sammy Santos. A chair. Sitting there. Thinking. As if thinking ever did any good. To hell with everything. After dinner, I walked out of the house, borrowed Paco's bike and stole two cases of Dr Pepper bottles from Mrs. Franco. She had a nice house. She didn't live in Hollywood. She didn't need the bottles. I cashed them in at the Pic Quick on Solano--and bought my first pack of cigarettes. My dad wanted to know where I was. "Just taking a walk," I said.
Dad's smile almost broke me. "You're like your mom," he said. "She'd walk and think. You take after her." He looked so happy. If you can be happy and sad at the same time. That's how he looked when he talked about her.
I hated to lie to him. But I couldn't tell him I was stealing Dr Pepper bottles from Mrs. Franco. I couldn't. He thought I was some kind of altar boy. He never went a week without telling me I was good. Good? What's that? Sometimes I wanted to yell, "You don't know, Dad. You don't know these things." I wanted to yell that. It would have broken his heart.
Later, in bed, I held the red pack of Marlboros and studied it like I was going to be tested on what it looked like. I smelled the cigarettes through the cellophane--and it was then that I . . .
Continues...
Excerpted from Sammy and Juliana in Hollywood by Benjamin Saenz Copyright © 2006 by Benjamin Saenz. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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