Non-Fiction Reviews – Page 3 – Books, Brews & Banter

Solito, by Javier Zamora

It would take a hard heart not to fall in love with nine-year-old Javier Zamora, with his head full of superheroes, love, and deep concerns about bodily functions. How, for example, can he trust modern plumbing, instead of the outhouse behind his grandparents’ home in El Salvador? What will keep him from being flushed down the toilet and into the ocean?

At the beginning of this memoir, he has a seemingly comfortable life in the tiny village of La Herradura, with his grandparents, aunt, and cousin. But he misses his parents, who immigrated to the United States to escape the political violence and gangs of their home country. In his dreams, Javier flies like Superman and greets his parents in California at their front door. A superhero could then fly back home.

When Javier turns nine, Don Dago, the coyote who helped his mother successfully cross the Mexican border thinks he is old enough to make the harrowing journey to reunite with his parents. But he is not a superhero. He’s just a little boy.

Zamora, who was in his late 20s when he began writing the book, tells the story from the perspective of his nine-year-old self, with the naivete and confusion of a child who had to put his life in the hands of people he didn’t even know and embark on a trek that many others did not survive.

In April 1999, he sets out for what he and his family expect to be a two-week trip. Instead, it stretches to nine weeks, as things begin to go wrong immediately, with unexplained delays, new coyotes coming and going, and confusing route changes. His grandfather goes with him for the first two weeks of the trip, along with a group of others fleeing the country.

After his grandfather leaves, Javier has no way to contact his family in El Salvador or in California. For seven weeks, his parents and grandparents have no idea where he is, or if he is even alive.

He forms a family bond with a young mother, Patricia (also his mother’s name), her young daughter Carla, and Chino, a tattooed teenager escaping gang life. In the book’s dedication, he says he owes his life to them. In searing details, he shows this to be true.

Zamora is at heart a poet, and he brings us along on his journey with writing so clear and poignant we hear, smell, see, taste, and feel with him. The hot and smelly hotel rooms full of people who cannot leave or even open the windows, the delight of his first taco, the feel of water when he can finally wash the sand and sweat away in a shower, the glint of a gun aimed his way.

He’s a shy bookish boy, self-conscious about his weight and nervous about everything from the size of his penis to the cleanliness of his underwear and his crush on Carla. That he has to go through this experience for his own safety is appalling. That he is judged for it is heartless.

When Zamora was 18, he began to write poetry about his journey, at the suggestion of his therapist. He wrote from the perspective of a coyote in “Looking at a Coyote.” He shared his love for, but distrust of, his home country in “El Salvador,” the home that can never be home again. In “Citizenship,” he watches others who look like him but who can cross the border easily and wonders how they are different from him. In “Second Attempt Crossing” he writes about Chino, who was like a life-saving older brother on the journey, but whose fate is uncertain in the United States. The poems stand beautifully on their own but offer heartbreaking depth if read after finishing this memoir.

Zamora earned citizenship through an Employment-Based Extraordinary Ability visa (EB-1), sometimes called a genius visa, and then a green card because of his writing. And, though grateful, he says refugees should not have to be geniuses to come to the United States. They should be accepted just because they are humans.

The book’s cover is a work of art in itself—an outline of a downcast boy filled with an image of the Mexican desert. The title—Solito, which means solitary—is placed above the image in a sea of white. The austerity shows how alone this dear little boy felt. The book ends on a poetic note—showing us a hint of his reunion with his parents but leaving the details for our imaginations. Our group we had one recommendation—that Zamora write a second book about his life in this country, his fraught reunion with his parents, and the reality of living in a country that will never be home.

— Patricia Prijatel

Democracy Awakening, by Heather Cox Richardson

I started writing this review of Democracy Awakening the day after the Presidential election, but I just couldn’t finish it. I was feeling too sad and the writing just made me sadder. So here I am, now almost two weeks post-election and I am better able to talk about this wonderful book.

Ms. Richardson divides her book into three sections: Undermining Democracy, The Authoritarian Experiment, and Reclaiming America. The first section gives us a comprehensive American history lesson, focusing on the words in the Declaration of Independence that she claims set the stage for the unfolding of our commitment to government by and for the people. “All men are created equal.” Certainly an odd statement for 1776, when the only people who would be able to vote (and other marks of democracy) in this new land were white men who owned property. And yet, that statement has resonated throughout our history as we slowly but surely inched forward to expand the categories of people who fall within its reach. But the author also uses this section of the book to demonstrate that this “progress” toward ever-greater inclusion has been a jerky, back-and-forth movement, always interrupted by those of wealth and power who resisted giving decision-making ability to more and more people unlike themselves.

In the second section of the book, Ms. Richardson starts with Donald Trump’s 2016 election. She calls out the worldview of the Trump inner circle, in particular that of Steve Bannon. “Bannon and his allies escalated the long-standing anti-liberal rhetoric of Republican talk radio hosts into hard-right paternalism. Under Bannon’s direction, right-leaning Breitbart News Network had run articles attacking politically active women and Black Americans and yet could insist that Bannon was neither sexist nor racist because in their formulation, a return to a traditional society would be best for everyone…. This worldview struck a chord with disaffected white Americans who felt as if they had been left behind since the 1980s…. A worldview that put Christianity at the center was especially appealing to evangelicals.” Richardson goes further to examine the travel ban, Trump’s increasing closeness to Putin and Russia, the “Unite The Right” rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, the first impeachment and Trump’s increasing rewriting of American history. She quotes Trump as saying, “Our country didn’t grow great with them. It grew great with you and your thought process and your ideology.” And, of course, she covers the second impeachment and Trump’s refusal to accept the results of the 2020 election.

Richardson’s third section, Reclaiming America, reminds us, in the words the book’s jacket, “that it is up to us to reclaim the principles on which the nation was founded, principles that have been repeatedly championed by marginalized Americans. Their dedication to the promises embodied in our history has renewed our commitment to democracy in the past. And it is in their commitment where we will find the road map for the nation’s future.”

So here we are. We read this book before the election, as I mentioned earlier. Many of us were hopeful that this election would mark this renewed commitment to democracy that Richardson showcases in this book. But no! So where do we find hope? I find hope going back to the first section of the book and remembering that our progress has always been two steps forward, one-and-a-half steps back. Maybe this step, which I and the people in our book club find a giant leap backward, is just the harbinger of our next progress. We can hope and pray.

–Jeanie Smith

The Truth About Immigration: Why Successful Societies Welcome Newcomers, by Zeke Hernandez

The Truth About Immigration was published in June of 2024, and therefore was quite timely and relevant when our group began reading it in late Fall of 2024 – finishing our discussion of it just after the second election of Donald Trump.

Having read it, the upside is that we all feel better educated about how immigration works in the United States, as well as its pros and cons. While it’s clear that the current archaic system needs to be updated, it is also clear that immigrants are a net positive to society for economic, social and cultural reasons.

The downside is that we’re likely to start seeing mass deportations anyway, due to Trump’s campaign promises, and we’ll be powerless to do anything about it. We are living in a time when fear of immigrants has been stoked to an all-time high for political gain.

If only everyone could read this book. We’d like to think it would make a difference, but who knows. Perhaps fear is just an easier sell.

One of the main takeaways is that both sides of the typical immigration debate are wrong, or at least short-sighted. One side claims that immigrants are a drain on society’s resources and dangerous to “our way of life.” The other side tends to counter by whispering the victim narrative, that taking in immigrants is the right thing to do because of the violence and oppression that causes people to flee their home countries. The truth is actually far more powerful than the victim narrative: Successful societies welcome newcomers. Unfortunately, that information is rarely part of the discussion. It takes more time to explain, and therefore is harder to break through.

Zeke Hernandez is very thorough in his presentation of the details, and although the book is heavy on facts, it is readable for the average American who has not experienced the immigration system first-hand. Another round of editing before publishing might have eliminated some repetition of ideas and made the information that much more digestible. His various stories and anecdotes, some from friends and others from his own experience as an immigrant from Uruguay, are a welcome illustration. We applaud his effort to enlighten readers with the truth.

— Julie Feirer