I didn’t intend to read this book. It struck me as particularly middle grade, and while one or two of those occasionally sneak into my piles, this wasn’t going to be one of them. However, after speaking to a woman who apparently really has read every single YA book written, I was finally sold that I, at the very least, needed to give it a try. So I picked up Meg Medina’s Yaqui Delgado Want to Kick Your Ass and binge read it all in one sitting in just a few hours.
The first couple of chapters had me a little worried–the beginning definitely feels like a middle reader book. In fact, to be honest, throughout the book I couldn’t stop questioning YA v. Middle Reader. However, about a third of the way in, the story shifts a bit, and there are glimmers of YA shining through.
The story follows Piddy, the daughter of a single-parent Cuban immigrant mother, who is forced to begin her sophomore year at a different New York City high school when her mother decides they must move apartments. Having grown up in a military family, I often have trouble sympathizing with stories about kids who throw great big temper tantrums because their family’s moving–especially when they’re still close enough to visit with their friends regularly and when there’s a particularly compelling reason for the move, Especially today, when technology does allow for you to at least keep in contact. But I digress.
So Piddy’s mom decides that a move is necessary, which–though Piddy doesn’t complain about it exactly–seemed a bit unfair to me. The new apartment isn’t for a job, it’s not to get closer to her mother’s work or to be near family members or friends. It’s literally just a move that magically switches the school district Piddy’s in, resulting in Piddy’s doomed sophomore year. All in all, I thought she handled the move fairly gracefully; yes, she complains, but no, no giant, self-absorbed tantrums here.
But when school starts and a girl she doesn’t even know is broadcasting that she’s going to kick Piddy’s ass, well, let the games begin.
There are a lot of big issues being addressed in the book, which probably accounts for it’s award winning status. First, there’s the major one: bullying and both it’s psychological and physical impact on the victims. But even beyond that, it makes a statement as to the fact that students have options in these situations, and options that didn’t used to be available. I really thought that this was one of the defining features of the book, marking it as significantly unique from older bullying books. Second, there’s familial relations: while the nontraditional family is an increasingly common topic in YA and even children’s literature, this one is handled with grace. Third, the book does not shy away from the socioeconomic and race issues that are elephants in the room throughout the story. Indeed, these continue to come up periodically, a sort of steady but low tension thrumming ceaselessly in the background. Fourth, the issue of violence is another tension in the story–it’s there, it’s palpable, and at times it’s all-consuming. But the delicate weaving of psychological v. physical violence that the author puts together leaves the story considerably more tenable than others of the same ilk, that are usually much more extreme in the type and consistency of the bullying behaviors depicted.
Honestly, I really liked this book much more than I thought I would, though not for the same scintillating reasons that normally lead me to gush over YA Lit. It does a pretty sophisticated job of handling complex issues and invites the reader to grow up with Piddy. I would really have liked to have seen a bit more into Yaqui’s mind and background–there are several hints as to what that life might be like, but the author doesn’t really go there–and I’m still not entirely sure flushing out a bit more about some of the other characters wouldn’t have helped the development of the story as a whole as well as Piddy as a character. It’s this that I think really left me still feeling like it was more of a middle grade book, for some reason–perhaps because Piddy seems absolutely unable to see the bigger picture in terms of basically anything that she does.
At times, the story reminded me a bit of Jeremy Scott’s The Ables, at times like Felice Holman’s Slake’s Limbo, and at other times like something completely other. Perhaps that’s because it’s a genre I don’t read a lot of or perhaps it’s because it really felt intended for an age group I don’t often read books for. I really don’t know. But I do know that it’s a very urban, very modern take on school bullying. And definitely worth the short time it takes it read it–this is a major page turner!