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Names on a Map
The Espejo family of El Paso, Texas, is like so many others in America in 1967, trying to make sense of a rapidly escalating war they feel does not concern them. But when the eldest son, Gustavo, a complex and errant rebel, receives a certified letter ordering him to report to basic training, he chooses to flee instead to Mexico. Retreating back to the land of his grandfather—a foreign country to which he is no longer culturally connected—Gustavo sets into motion a series of events that will have catastrophic consequences on the fragile bonds holding the family together.
Told with raw power and searing bluntness, and filled with important themes as immediate as today’s headlines, Names on a Map is arguably the most important work to date of a major American literary artist.
Told with raw power and searing bluntness, and filled with important themes as immediate as today’s headlines, Names on a Map is arguably the most important work to date of a major American literary artist.
423 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2008
22 people are currently reading
1574 people want to read
About the author
Benjamin Alire Sáenz
37 books15.7k followersBenjamin Alire Sáenz (born 16 August 1954) is an award-winning American poet, novelist and writer of children's books.
He was born at Old Picacho, New Mexico, the fourth of seven children, and was raised on a small farm near Mesilla, New Mexico. He graduated from Las Cruces High School in 1972. That fall, he entered St. Thomas Seminary in Denver, Colorado where he received a B.A. degree in Humanities and Philosophy in 1977. He studied Theology at the University of Louvain in Leuven, Belgium from 1977 to 1981. He was a priest for a few years in El Paso, Texas before leaving the order.
In 1985, he returned to school, and studied English and Creative Writing at the University of Texas at El Paso where he earned an M.A. degree in Creative Writing. He then spent a year at the University of Iowa as a PhD student in American Literature. A year later, he was awarded a Wallace E. Stegner fellowship. While at Stanford University under the guidance of Denise Levertov, he completed his first book of poems, Calendar of Dust, which won an American Book Award in 1992. He entered the Ph.D. program at Stanford and continued his studies for two more years. Before completing his Ph.D., he moved back to the border and began teaching at the University of Texas at El Paso in the bilingual MFA program.
His first novel, Carry Me Like Water was a saga that brought together the Victorian novel and the Latin American tradition of magic realism and received much critical attention.
In The Book of What Remains (Copper Canyon Press, 2010), his fifth book of poems, he writes to the core truth of life's ever-shifting memories. Set along the Mexican border, the contrast between the desert's austere beauty and the brutality of border politics mirrors humanity's capacity for both generosity and cruelty.
In 2005, he curated a show of photographs by Julian Cardona.
He continues to teach in the Creative Writing Department at the University of Texas at El Paso.
He was born at Old Picacho, New Mexico, the fourth of seven children, and was raised on a small farm near Mesilla, New Mexico. He graduated from Las Cruces High School in 1972. That fall, he entered St. Thomas Seminary in Denver, Colorado where he received a B.A. degree in Humanities and Philosophy in 1977. He studied Theology at the University of Louvain in Leuven, Belgium from 1977 to 1981. He was a priest for a few years in El Paso, Texas before leaving the order.
In 1985, he returned to school, and studied English and Creative Writing at the University of Texas at El Paso where he earned an M.A. degree in Creative Writing. He then spent a year at the University of Iowa as a PhD student in American Literature. A year later, he was awarded a Wallace E. Stegner fellowship. While at Stanford University under the guidance of Denise Levertov, he completed his first book of poems, Calendar of Dust, which won an American Book Award in 1992. He entered the Ph.D. program at Stanford and continued his studies for two more years. Before completing his Ph.D., he moved back to the border and began teaching at the University of Texas at El Paso in the bilingual MFA program.
His first novel, Carry Me Like Water was a saga that brought together the Victorian novel and the Latin American tradition of magic realism and received much critical attention.
In The Book of What Remains (Copper Canyon Press, 2010), his fifth book of poems, he writes to the core truth of life's ever-shifting memories. Set along the Mexican border, the contrast between the desert's austere beauty and the brutality of border politics mirrors humanity's capacity for both generosity and cruelty.
In 2005, he curated a show of photographs by Julian Cardona.
He continues to teach in the Creative Writing Department at the University of Texas at El Paso.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 69 reviews
October 5, 2018
I’m bummed that I missed book club’s discussion about this (I’d finished the book in the nick of time and everything!). In the end: 4 stars for the themes, 2 stars for the prose. Which is a shame, because I loved Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, which was a straightforward, touching, heartfelt LGBTQ YA where… things actually happened.
In comparison, I suppose this one is best described as ~*~Literary Fiction~*~ (heavy, heavy emphasis on the literary). Alire Sáenz’s prose is nice sometimes, but it’s frankly too full of itself here. He keeps oscillating between first-, second-, and third-person narration, erratically. That sort of POV switch needs to be for a specific purpose, and have some rules (The Fifth Season is a perfect example of this, where the choice of POV instantly anchors you and tells you which timeline/character you’re following, and there are narrative reasons justifying it as well). But here, instead, there’s no rhyme nor reason nor consistency to which voice is being used. And even when it was in first-person, I couldn’t tell you the difference between the voices of Lourdes, Gustavo, Xochil, or Charlie — they all blended together in exactly the same kind of intellectual, dreamy, thoughtful vibe.
Thematically, the book is an extension of some themes touched on in Aristotle & Dante and which are really far up my alley: father/son relationships, masculinity, and war, all of which is #juliebait galore. I loved the dynamic of the Espejo family, the close-knit twins, the too-soft younger brother, the watchful mother keeping them all together.
However! Practically nothing happens! I could summarise the entirety of the plot in two sentences. And with that in mind, there’s also the extreme problem that the blurb literally SPOILS THE ENDING OF THE BOOK. What little there is was already spoiled for me, because the blurb implies that there’s more to come, but there ain’t.
You could perhaps argue that the ending doesn’t matter, and what’s important is the Journey™ instead… but the prose grated on my nerves enough that the journey wasn’t super-enjoyable either.
All of which sounds super harsh. There were things I very much liked about it, certain stray moments; the daughter Xochil and her mother Lourdes are the strongest, most sensible characters in the book and I adored them. But compared to the other novel I’ve read by Benjamin Alire Sáenz (which I gave 5 stars!), this was largely a disappointment.
A couple favourite quotes, though — which are actually not representative at all because they’re all from the soldier POVs set in Vietnam:
In comparison, I suppose this one is best described as ~*~Literary Fiction~*~ (heavy, heavy emphasis on the literary). Alire Sáenz’s prose is nice sometimes, but it’s frankly too full of itself here. He keeps oscillating between first-, second-, and third-person narration, erratically. That sort of POV switch needs to be for a specific purpose, and have some rules (The Fifth Season is a perfect example of this, where the choice of POV instantly anchors you and tells you which timeline/character you’re following, and there are narrative reasons justifying it as well). But here, instead, there’s no rhyme nor reason nor consistency to which voice is being used. And even when it was in first-person, I couldn’t tell you the difference between the voices of Lourdes, Gustavo, Xochil, or Charlie — they all blended together in exactly the same kind of intellectual, dreamy, thoughtful vibe.
Thematically, the book is an extension of some themes touched on in Aristotle & Dante and which are really far up my alley: father/son relationships, masculinity, and war, all of which is #juliebait galore. I loved the dynamic of the Espejo family, the close-knit twins, the too-soft younger brother, the watchful mother keeping them all together.
However! Practically nothing happens! I could summarise the entirety of the plot in two sentences. And with that in mind, there’s also the extreme problem that the blurb literally SPOILS THE ENDING OF THE BOOK. What little there is was already spoiled for me, because the blurb implies that there’s more to come, but there ain’t.
You could perhaps argue that the ending doesn’t matter, and what’s important is the Journey™ instead… but the prose grated on my nerves enough that the journey wasn’t super-enjoyable either.
All of which sounds super harsh. There were things I very much liked about it, certain stray moments; the daughter Xochil and her mother Lourdes are the strongest, most sensible characters in the book and I adored them. But compared to the other novel I’ve read by Benjamin Alire Sáenz (which I gave 5 stars!), this was largely a disappointment.
A couple favourite quotes, though — which are actually not representative at all because they’re all from the soldier POVs set in Vietnam:
They will tear us down, minute by minute, hour by hour, pull up by pull up, push-up by push-up, squat thrust by squat thrust. Our minds and bodies will be transformed. I won’t be me anymore. I’ll be part of a team. The team will be what matters.
The team will be the only country you love. You will fight for them. If they live, you live.
I understood all this. From the start, I understood everything. I fucking knew I was going to learn to fight. And I was going to live. This was my war. Mine.
It all made perfect sense.
***
I missed my family on Sundays. Missed them like hell. And at basic training, you know I got into this thing of doing busy work, while about half the guys went to do their church thing. You know, Sunday mornings, we’d clean our guns one more fucking time, shine our shoes another fucking time, do all that fucking busy work they had us doing. Your boots could never be too shiny. Your gun could never be too clean. In the Marines, when you train, if you’re awake, then you’re doing something. No such thing as doing nothing.
You know what a vacation was? It was having the time to smoke a fucking cigarette. It was having the time to listen to some jackass tell a joke you’d already heard.
***
You know, when I was in Nam, all my dreams were of home.
When I came home, all my dreams were of war.
May 22, 2017
Names on a Map, by Benjamin Sáenz, is a book that uses the countries Mexico, America, and Vietnam and the war to explore family relationships. The novel is centred around the Espejo family in El Paso, Texas in 1967. It is told from the changing and contrasting viewpoints of all the characters. Early on in the book, there's a line that describes humans beings as our own separate countries, with our own languages, and how we spend our entire lives trying to translate each other. Sáenz use of metaphors like this and poetic language to make this book amazingly thought provoking.
September 27, 2013
I cannot say enough times how much I love this author. He is now 3 for 3 for the books I have read of his. Each one is in a different style with a completely different storyline, the only link being they are all set in El Paso, Texas and involve Hispanic families.
The character development in this novel was as superb as ever from this author and, again, I could relate very closely to characters that had absolutely nothing in common with me or my life, ever!
He takes a tragic situation but does not overly glamourise or over dramatize what must have happened to a large number of families of that time.
Despite each chapter being from a different characters voice and each one being of a random length, some very long others just a few sentences, it was very easy to follow each persons story.
If you have not read any of this authors books, please just pick any one up, I am sure it will not disappoint. 5 out of 5.
The character development in this novel was as superb as ever from this author and, again, I could relate very closely to characters that had absolutely nothing in common with me or my life, ever!
He takes a tragic situation but does not overly glamourise or over dramatize what must have happened to a large number of families of that time.
Despite each chapter being from a different characters voice and each one being of a random length, some very long others just a few sentences, it was very easy to follow each persons story.
If you have not read any of this authors books, please just pick any one up, I am sure it will not disappoint. 5 out of 5.
August 2, 2009
Early in, I read this exchange between the dying grandmother, Rosario, and the youngest child, Charlie:
"No, amor, it's not fair. All countries are cruel. You must always remember that."
He thought about his globe and all his maps. "Isn't there any place we can go?"
"Someday we will do away with countries. We'll be better off without them, amor."
I knew I was in a good book.
September, 1967, and the Espejo family of El Paso, TX is waiting; for Rosario to pass on only one thing among many.
Lourdes, the daughter-in-law and mother to three children, postpones her dreams to tend to Rosario, but she watches her children with love, especially Gustavo.
He's waiting for the final draft notice that will mean he is going to Vietnam. Long haired and calling himself a Chicano, Gustavo doesn't want to go to war, but the reasons why are far more complicated than cowardice, which is what his dad, Octavio, suspects.
Meanwhile, his twin sister, Xochil, contemplates going on to college, the pull of straight arrow Jack Evans--who is for the war and enlisted--, and what her brother will do.
Charlie, innocent, good-natured, thirteen year old Charlie, tries to figure out what is happening to their family.
The point of view shifts as this family heads for possible dissolution. Along the way, Saenz touches on multiple issues from varying points of view.
This is a very good political novel--and don't be scared away from that word because every novel worth reading is political.
Two events/actions didn't sit right with me, one involving Xochil's fear of alleys, else I would give this five stars.
"No, amor, it's not fair. All countries are cruel. You must always remember that."
He thought about his globe and all his maps. "Isn't there any place we can go?"
"Someday we will do away with countries. We'll be better off without them, amor."
I knew I was in a good book.
September, 1967, and the Espejo family of El Paso, TX is waiting; for Rosario to pass on only one thing among many.
Lourdes, the daughter-in-law and mother to three children, postpones her dreams to tend to Rosario, but she watches her children with love, especially Gustavo.
He's waiting for the final draft notice that will mean he is going to Vietnam. Long haired and calling himself a Chicano, Gustavo doesn't want to go to war, but the reasons why are far more complicated than cowardice, which is what his dad, Octavio, suspects.
Meanwhile, his twin sister, Xochil, contemplates going on to college, the pull of straight arrow Jack Evans--who is for the war and enlisted--, and what her brother will do.
Charlie, innocent, good-natured, thirteen year old Charlie, tries to figure out what is happening to their family.
The point of view shifts as this family heads for possible dissolution. Along the way, Saenz touches on multiple issues from varying points of view.
This is a very good political novel--and don't be scared away from that word because every novel worth reading is political.
Two events/actions didn't sit right with me, one involving Xochil's fear of alleys, else I would give this five stars.
March 24, 2015
There's a line early on in the book that describes human beings as our own separate countries, with our own languages, and how we spend our lives trying to translate each other. Saenz uses the countries of Mexico, America, and Vietnam as a framework to explore family relationships in this book, namely the Espejo family, exiles of the Mexican revolutionary war, who find themselves caught in the shadow of the Vietnam war as America's youth are drafted to fight. Saenz's prose is uncomplicated, direct, emotionally naked, and deceptively simple. His characters are complex individuals, and he writes from every perspective of the family, and contrasts their situation with a grunt in basic training and a marine in combat. Saenz understands how family itself can be a kind of warfare, with roles dug deep in the trenches, sometimes yielding to advances, sometimes dug too deep to ever yield.
March 30, 2012
This book took me longer than usual to read because it requires reflection and appreciation for the language. Saenz' skill as a poet makes it that much better a read. Written in 2008 and set in 1967 it is a consideration of war both now and then. He recreates the pain of 1967 and Viet Nam and confronting the few choices in regard to fighting so clearly that it put me right back there. That recreation of that time was part of the reason for slow going through painful memories. Some of my questions about why go back to that time in 2008 are answered in the author's essay at the end of the paperback edition. I recommend reading the edition with that essay but do not read it until after reading the novel. He says he is a political writer and we are lucky that he is that.
May 14, 2019
Names on a Map is a thought-provoking, hard-hitting and beautifully written story about the Vietnam War and what happens when the son of a dysfunctional family gets a letter from the government, ordering him to join the army and the war.
The book explores different views of the war, and different reasons why people either supported it or rebelled against it. It was interesting to see how the war affected the characters, tore families and friendships apart and shaped an entire generation. We also got glimpses into the lives of the soldiers and how some thought it was a just war, while others started to realize that the war was not as noble as they'd once thought. I also really liked the exploration of identity in terms of countries and where you belong, which is a theme you can see in quite a lot of Benjamin Alire Saénz's books.
I also loved everyone in the Espejo family and the complex dynamics between them. Gustavo and Xochil were perhaps my favorites (their tight, tight relationship was super beautiful - as was their relationship with their little brother Charlie) but I loved them all.
Highly recommend. It is a tough read at times, really emotional and it really makes you think, but it's definitely worth it.
The book explores different views of the war, and different reasons why people either supported it or rebelled against it. It was interesting to see how the war affected the characters, tore families and friendships apart and shaped an entire generation. We also got glimpses into the lives of the soldiers and how some thought it was a just war, while others started to realize that the war was not as noble as they'd once thought. I also really liked the exploration of identity in terms of countries and where you belong, which is a theme you can see in quite a lot of Benjamin Alire Saénz's books.
I also loved everyone in the Espejo family and the complex dynamics between them. Gustavo and Xochil were perhaps my favorites (their tight, tight relationship was super beautiful - as was their relationship with their little brother Charlie) but I loved them all.
Highly recommend. It is a tough read at times, really emotional and it really makes you think, but it's definitely worth it.
February 24, 2018
I'm dead ass broken. I hate this guy. I hate this book. God, I half wanted to kill myself reading it.
If you need a reason to feel like life is absolutely pointless, read this damn book. Read this book before downing twenty-one shots of whiskey and dying from alcohol poisoning. Read this book before you slit your wrist because then I guarantee you'll succeed.
This is the Death and Depression version of Ari & Dante. And it is so real it'll fist you in the gut.
If you need a reason to feel like life is absolutely pointless, read this damn book. Read this book before downing twenty-one shots of whiskey and dying from alcohol poisoning. Read this book before you slit your wrist because then I guarantee you'll succeed.
This is the Death and Depression version of Ari & Dante. And it is so real it'll fist you in the gut.
August 17, 2020
Every time I read a book by Mr Sáenz, I'm stunned all over again. Not only is he a great story teller, but he does it in a beautiful way as well. This book, told from several points of view and in 1st, 2nd AND 3rd person gives a heartbreaking view into life during the Vietnam war and how it affected different people in different ways.
December 31, 2018
Four stars for the story, two for the writing.
December 21, 2017
Recensione sul blog: http://thereadingpal.blogspot.it/2017...
Names on a map stava sul mio scaffale, aspettando il momento giusto per essere letto. E il momento è arrivato. Non so perché, ma ogni volta che leggo un libro di Sáenz, dopo mi sento strana e cambiata. In senso buono, ovviamente. Non so, i suoi libri hanno qualcosa di particolare che non riesco ad individuare, perché sono tutti molto diversi.
Parlando in particolare di Names on a Map, siamo sul confine tra Texas e Messico alla fine degli anni '60. La famiglia Espejo è dovuta fuggire dal Messico a causa della rivoluzione, ed ora il nuovo paese richiede un tributo. Gustavo, il figlio maschio maggiore, riceve la lettera per andare a combattere in Vietnam. Solo che non vuole. E la sua scelta cambia irrimediabilmente le dinamiche familiari.
There are days when I almost forget that I fought in
that war. It was such a long time ago. I was young, so young, so
fucking young. And all that's left of my youth is in my head. You
know, the head, it's like a map. Not a map that gives you directions,
but a map with names on it–names of guys who were
killed in the war, names of the people you left behind, names of
countries and villages and cities. Names. After all these years,
that's all that's left. Names. But no directions. And no way to
reach them, no way to get back what you lost.
Durante il romanzo seguiamo sia la famiglia Espejo sia alcuni dei ragazzi che hanno scelto, al contrario di Conad e Gus, di andare in Vietnam a combattere.
Prima di parlare di Gus, Xochil, Charlie, Lourdes e Octavio, vorrei soffermarmi su Jack e sugli altri ragazzi che sono partiti. Rispetto ai legami familiari degli Espejo, questi ragazzi sono una parte un po' marginale. Ma mi ha colpito come Sáenz ha scritto di loro. Da una parte c'è l'ignoranza di Jack Evans. Convinto di servire la patria, di combattere per i diritti degli Americani (in Vietnam devi andare, per salvaguardare i diritti dei cittadini Americani? Figlio mio, ma ti stai a sentire?), chiama Comunista Gus quando questi si dice contrario alla guerra e mostra di non sapere neanche il significato della parola "Comunismo". Non sa cosa significa essere davvero un uomo, e pensa che prendere un fucile e sparare senza sapere il motivo reale lo renderà tale. In un certo senso ho avuto pietà di lui. Non pensa con la sua testa, e fa solo ciò che il padre e uomini più anziani gli dicono sia giusto fare. Adam e Abe sono già nei Marines, ad essere addestrati e a combattere. E attraverso di loro vediamo quanto la guerra li abbia condizionati e cambiati. Capiamo quanto siano davvero troppo giovani e insperti, come non sappiamo nulla. E come il loro essere fieri di essere lì a combattere, di essere finalmente dei Marine, alla fine non vale nulla. Hanno perso tutto, e una parte di loro è rimasta in Vietnam.
Come ho detto è una parte minima, ma l'ho trovata estremamente interessante.
Per quanto riguarda invece gli Espejo, è una famiglai complessa, in cui le dinamiche vengono messe in gioco a causa della guerra.
Octavio, il padre, è un uomono fallito. A tratti l'ho trovato patetico. Non riesce a creare un rapporto con il figlio, e per qualsiasi cosa dà la colpa ad altri. Non riesce a vedere che la causa del malessere è lui. Non è lui ad essere la vittima. È così diverso rispetto a Gus e a Charlie, e non prova neanche a comprenderli. Specialmente Gus.
Lourdes è una madre protettiva, che farebbe qualsiasi cosa per i figli. Lei è quella che ascolta, che osserva, che comprende. Prende molta responsabilità su di se, ma deve farlo per forza a causa del marito. È un personaggio che mi è piaciuto davvero molto. Una donna forte, ci sono dei momenti in cui vediamo davvero quanto sia terrorizzata per il figlio. E sono quelli i passi del libro che ho trovato più belli.
Gus e Xochil sono gemelli, due parti di un unico. Ma entrambi hanno le loro storie e le loro vite da vivere, che sono molto diverse. Se Gus ha il problema della guerra, del non voler andare, Xochil vuole una vita propria, che non sia scelta a causa delle aspettative della famiglia. Un'esistenza che sia davvero sua. Entrambi i gemelli mi sono piaciuti molto, così diversi eppure così simili. Durante il romanzo li vediamo cambiare, evolversi. Capire chi sono davvero.
Charlie è l'ultimo, il più "americano", e il più idealizzato. Anche lui cambia nel romanzo, e forse il suo cambiamento è meno sottile rispetto ai fratelli maggiori.
Vedere i legami tra i membri della famiglia Espejo rompersi e ricostruirsi diversamente è stata un'esperienza che non dimenticherò facilmente. È qualcosa di quasi tangibile, e scritto in un modo magnifico. Lo stile di Sáenz è estremamente particolare, e non so neanche come spiegarlo, in effetti. Particolare e vivo. E le sue storie fanno sempre pensare molto.
A questo punto, Sáenz si riconferma davvero come uno dei miei autori preferiti, e spero di poter leggere presto He forgot to say goodbye.
Names on a map stava sul mio scaffale, aspettando il momento giusto per essere letto. E il momento è arrivato. Non so perché, ma ogni volta che leggo un libro di Sáenz, dopo mi sento strana e cambiata. In senso buono, ovviamente. Non so, i suoi libri hanno qualcosa di particolare che non riesco ad individuare, perché sono tutti molto diversi.
Parlando in particolare di Names on a Map, siamo sul confine tra Texas e Messico alla fine degli anni '60. La famiglia Espejo è dovuta fuggire dal Messico a causa della rivoluzione, ed ora il nuovo paese richiede un tributo. Gustavo, il figlio maschio maggiore, riceve la lettera per andare a combattere in Vietnam. Solo che non vuole. E la sua scelta cambia irrimediabilmente le dinamiche familiari.
There are days when I almost forget that I fought in
that war. It was such a long time ago. I was young, so young, so
fucking young. And all that's left of my youth is in my head. You
know, the head, it's like a map. Not a map that gives you directions,
but a map with names on it–names of guys who were
killed in the war, names of the people you left behind, names of
countries and villages and cities. Names. After all these years,
that's all that's left. Names. But no directions. And no way to
reach them, no way to get back what you lost.
Durante il romanzo seguiamo sia la famiglia Espejo sia alcuni dei ragazzi che hanno scelto, al contrario di Conad e Gus, di andare in Vietnam a combattere.
Prima di parlare di Gus, Xochil, Charlie, Lourdes e Octavio, vorrei soffermarmi su Jack e sugli altri ragazzi che sono partiti. Rispetto ai legami familiari degli Espejo, questi ragazzi sono una parte un po' marginale. Ma mi ha colpito come Sáenz ha scritto di loro. Da una parte c'è l'ignoranza di Jack Evans. Convinto di servire la patria, di combattere per i diritti degli Americani (in Vietnam devi andare, per salvaguardare i diritti dei cittadini Americani? Figlio mio, ma ti stai a sentire?), chiama Comunista Gus quando questi si dice contrario alla guerra e mostra di non sapere neanche il significato della parola "Comunismo". Non sa cosa significa essere davvero un uomo, e pensa che prendere un fucile e sparare senza sapere il motivo reale lo renderà tale. In un certo senso ho avuto pietà di lui. Non pensa con la sua testa, e fa solo ciò che il padre e uomini più anziani gli dicono sia giusto fare. Adam e Abe sono già nei Marines, ad essere addestrati e a combattere. E attraverso di loro vediamo quanto la guerra li abbia condizionati e cambiati. Capiamo quanto siano davvero troppo giovani e insperti, come non sappiamo nulla. E come il loro essere fieri di essere lì a combattere, di essere finalmente dei Marine, alla fine non vale nulla. Hanno perso tutto, e una parte di loro è rimasta in Vietnam.
Come ho detto è una parte minima, ma l'ho trovata estremamente interessante.
Per quanto riguarda invece gli Espejo, è una famiglai complessa, in cui le dinamiche vengono messe in gioco a causa della guerra.
Octavio, il padre, è un uomono fallito. A tratti l'ho trovato patetico. Non riesce a creare un rapporto con il figlio, e per qualsiasi cosa dà la colpa ad altri. Non riesce a vedere che la causa del malessere è lui. Non è lui ad essere la vittima. È così diverso rispetto a Gus e a Charlie, e non prova neanche a comprenderli. Specialmente Gus.
Lourdes è una madre protettiva, che farebbe qualsiasi cosa per i figli. Lei è quella che ascolta, che osserva, che comprende. Prende molta responsabilità su di se, ma deve farlo per forza a causa del marito. È un personaggio che mi è piaciuto davvero molto. Una donna forte, ci sono dei momenti in cui vediamo davvero quanto sia terrorizzata per il figlio. E sono quelli i passi del libro che ho trovato più belli.
Gus e Xochil sono gemelli, due parti di un unico. Ma entrambi hanno le loro storie e le loro vite da vivere, che sono molto diverse. Se Gus ha il problema della guerra, del non voler andare, Xochil vuole una vita propria, che non sia scelta a causa delle aspettative della famiglia. Un'esistenza che sia davvero sua. Entrambi i gemelli mi sono piaciuti molto, così diversi eppure così simili. Durante il romanzo li vediamo cambiare, evolversi. Capire chi sono davvero.
Charlie è l'ultimo, il più "americano", e il più idealizzato. Anche lui cambia nel romanzo, e forse il suo cambiamento è meno sottile rispetto ai fratelli maggiori.
Vedere i legami tra i membri della famiglia Espejo rompersi e ricostruirsi diversamente è stata un'esperienza che non dimenticherò facilmente. È qualcosa di quasi tangibile, e scritto in un modo magnifico. Lo stile di Sáenz è estremamente particolare, e non so neanche come spiegarlo, in effetti. Particolare e vivo. E le sue storie fanno sempre pensare molto.
A questo punto, Sáenz si riconferma davvero come uno dei miei autori preferiti, e spero di poter leggere presto He forgot to say goodbye.
July 19, 2017
I don't know if I can articulate why this book is so special to me.
Part of it is the fluidity and beauty of the writing. I think there is something to Spanish-speaking writers that lends itself to poetry. But it is beyond that. This books lyricism felt personal, like I cared beyond the eyes of a critic and just felt the words.
Part of the reason I love this book is because of who the three siblings --- Gustavo, Xochil and Charlie --- are, individually and to each other. It is maybe too impossible, that they should be what they are described to be and love each other as they do. But they are impossibly beautiful people and I find myself loving them. They are inadequate and quiet with each other, utterly devoted and yet constantly finding themselves at distances. It feels desperately sad, that distance.
This book is about war and it is also about family. What war does to women, what it does to children, and what it does to young men. What war does to relationships and love itself. It derides - rightfully - the unexamined acceptance of a country's war. It derides the gendered representation of soldiers as men. As masculine. It does so in a narrative that might be heavy-handed, but I loved it too much to care.
Part of it is the fluidity and beauty of the writing. I think there is something to Spanish-speaking writers that lends itself to poetry. But it is beyond that. This books lyricism felt personal, like I cared beyond the eyes of a critic and just felt the words.
Part of the reason I love this book is because of who the three siblings --- Gustavo, Xochil and Charlie --- are, individually and to each other. It is maybe too impossible, that they should be what they are described to be and love each other as they do. But they are impossibly beautiful people and I find myself loving them. They are inadequate and quiet with each other, utterly devoted and yet constantly finding themselves at distances. It feels desperately sad, that distance.
This book is about war and it is also about family. What war does to women, what it does to children, and what it does to young men. What war does to relationships and love itself. It derides - rightfully - the unexamined acceptance of a country's war. It derides the gendered representation of soldiers as men. As masculine. It does so in a narrative that might be heavy-handed, but I loved it too much to care.
February 16, 2015
I feel very fortunate that in my life I get to meet writers whose work I admire, enjoy, and get a pleasure from considering how they do what they do. I am also more than fortunate when I get to work with them, get to know them, get to talk to them about how they do what they do, and sometimes even be able to discuss what they think of what I am doing.
It's not a critical part of immersing myself in their work, but when someone like Benjamin, with his voice, and his tenderness, become resonate within me ��� when I hold their poetry or prose in my hands ��� it's a magic thing to feel (and hear) that you are being told a story by them. Benjamin Alire Saenz is one of our greatest living writers and one of our greatest poets. I also believe him to be one of our best humans, being in this world. God Bless you Mr. Saenz, God Bless you.
It's not a critical part of immersing myself in their work, but when someone like Benjamin, with his voice, and his tenderness, become resonate within me ��� when I hold their poetry or prose in my hands ��� it's a magic thing to feel (and hear) that you are being told a story by them. Benjamin Alire Saenz is one of our greatest living writers and one of our greatest poets. I also believe him to be one of our best humans, being in this world. God Bless you Mr. Saenz, God Bless you.
March 20, 2008
This book was not what I was expecting. I though the author would write more about the effects of the son choosing to dodge the draft of Vietnam. However, it was more about family relationships. How personalities conflict and how the past can create walls. The novel is actually a lead up until the son leaves and very little of the after-affects.
I did not think that the soldier 'voices' contributed much to the story other to reinforce the negativity of the war. The author used the 'F' word quite a bit. I felt that the novel was more of a commentary on the current war rather than Vietnam. I am sure there are people who would enjoy this novel more than I did. The writing was good, but not nearly as 'dark' as the author claimed it was.
I did not think that the soldier 'voices' contributed much to the story other to reinforce the negativity of the war. The author used the 'F' word quite a bit. I felt that the novel was more of a commentary on the current war rather than Vietnam. I am sure there are people who would enjoy this novel more than I did. The writing was good, but not nearly as 'dark' as the author claimed it was.
September 15, 2018
(FROM MY BLOG) The big, graceful buck cautiously and gracefully approached the water hole. Gustavo, then age 15, had tried to make his father happy by joining him on a hunting trip.
Benjamin Sáenz's adult novel, Names on a Map (2008), explores at greater length and with greater sophistication many of the same themes he has developed in the Young Adult novels discussed in my earlier posts. Sáenz, both a poet and a novelist, writes in simple language and short sentences that, much like the poems of Robert Frost, convey with great sensitivity and restraint a depth of feeling for his characters and an understanding of the inescapable tragedies of human life.
As in his YA novels, this novel -- taking place in 1967 El Paso -- shows us the lives of a middle class Mexican-American family, a family that escaped from Mexico and bribed its way across the U.S. border while fleeing the leftist revolution of the early 1900s. Gustavo's paternal grandmother, who dies near the end of the novel, was the family's last living tie with Mexico. His father Octavio -- stern and rigid, loving but unable to communicate his love and distant from his children, and his mother Lourdes, softer and more expressive, but with firm principles of her own -- were both brought as children to America. Gustavo, now 18, and his twin sister Xochil are two sides of the same coin -- different in personality in many respects, but bound so closely that they virtually read each other's minds. Both of them intelligent, literate, thoughtful, and little affected by peer pressure.
Their 13-year-old brother Charlie is the least complicated member of the family -- loving, happy, and optimistic -- considered by others to be the most "American" of the kids, although he himself feels himself closely attached to the Mexico that his grandmother had described to him in stories of her youth.
The framework of the novel is the war in Vietnam and its effect on America's young people. But the real themes, attached to that framework, are many of the same themes to which Sáenz has returned in his other writings -- the bonds of family, both joyful and stifling; young people's struggle to become adult; the sacrifices that teenage boys make of so much that is good and worthwhile in their lives -- in the name of "manhood" .
Each chapter is narrated by a different character, allowing us to understand and empathize with each. Despite much conflict and argument, and frequent hurt feelings, there are no villains. We understand the father's belief that every American boy should fight for his country -- not only as a civic duty, but as a means of establishing his own manhood. As his wife observes somewhat bitterly:
We understand as well the conviction by both Gustavo and Xochil that true manhood didn't allow you to fight a war, to kill people, just because everyone was doing it, or because the government said you must, or because it was a rite of passage like killing a deer. But Gustavo always understood both sides of every argument, and he always attacked himself with the full contempt of his potential adversaries. Xochil felt her principles more single-mindedly, and with fewer scruples. She saw the true bravery and intellectual honesty -- the manliness -- Gustavo always displayed, in both small and large matters.
The story is not a political, anti-war tract, as a few reviews have suggested. The war in Vietnam is just the accidental subject on which the family differences are played out. This is a story of a most believable family, with all the happy and sad moments that every family experiences. But it is a family drama revealed in the context of its being a Mexican-American family living in the fraught year of 1967.
Sáenz once again demonstrates how "American" second and third generation Mexican-American families truly are. Gustavo and Xochil and Charlie are Mexican only in superficial aspects of family traditions. President Trump would see their family, and the people they know, as a slap in his face, rendering absurd his claims that immigrants across the southern border were largely murderers and rapists.
In a wrenching conclusion, Gustavo receives his draft notice. The decisions he makes in reaction tear him apart from the family that has meant everything to him for 18 years.
And thus their ultimate fate.
And then I heard the shot -- deafening -- as it echoed in the dusk. The buck looked up, took a step -- then stumbled to the ground.His father had already assured Gustavo, when he was only ten, "You just don't understand the aesthetics of being a man." That night, young Gustavo looked up "aesthetics" in the dictionary.
This -- this was why we had come.
It was a beautiful thing.
I never went hunting again.
Benjamin Sáenz's adult novel, Names on a Map (2008), explores at greater length and with greater sophistication many of the same themes he has developed in the Young Adult novels discussed in my earlier posts. Sáenz, both a poet and a novelist, writes in simple language and short sentences that, much like the poems of Robert Frost, convey with great sensitivity and restraint a depth of feeling for his characters and an understanding of the inescapable tragedies of human life.
As in his YA novels, this novel -- taking place in 1967 El Paso -- shows us the lives of a middle class Mexican-American family, a family that escaped from Mexico and bribed its way across the U.S. border while fleeing the leftist revolution of the early 1900s. Gustavo's paternal grandmother, who dies near the end of the novel, was the family's last living tie with Mexico. His father Octavio -- stern and rigid, loving but unable to communicate his love and distant from his children, and his mother Lourdes, softer and more expressive, but with firm principles of her own -- were both brought as children to America. Gustavo, now 18, and his twin sister Xochil are two sides of the same coin -- different in personality in many respects, but bound so closely that they virtually read each other's minds. Both of them intelligent, literate, thoughtful, and little affected by peer pressure.
Their 13-year-old brother Charlie is the least complicated member of the family -- loving, happy, and optimistic -- considered by others to be the most "American" of the kids, although he himself feels himself closely attached to the Mexico that his grandmother had described to him in stories of her youth.
The framework of the novel is the war in Vietnam and its effect on America's young people. But the real themes, attached to that framework, are many of the same themes to which Sáenz has returned in his other writings -- the bonds of family, both joyful and stifling; young people's struggle to become adult; the sacrifices that teenage boys make of so much that is good and worthwhile in their lives -- in the name of "manhood" .
Each chapter is narrated by a different character, allowing us to understand and empathize with each. Despite much conflict and argument, and frequent hurt feelings, there are no villains. We understand the father's belief that every American boy should fight for his country -- not only as a civic duty, but as a means of establishing his own manhood. As his wife observes somewhat bitterly:
Octavio believed that wars cleansed the world like a good rain and it was our duty to sacrifice our treasure and our sons and saw the whole matter as resembling the story of Abraham willing to sacrifice his son on the altar of God.We recognize the pride of those boys who joined the Marines, partly because they wanted to fight for their country, but largely because they wanted to show themselves, as much as show others, that they were truly men.
We understand as well the conviction by both Gustavo and Xochil that true manhood didn't allow you to fight a war, to kill people, just because everyone was doing it, or because the government said you must, or because it was a rite of passage like killing a deer. But Gustavo always understood both sides of every argument, and he always attacked himself with the full contempt of his potential adversaries. Xochil felt her principles more single-mindedly, and with fewer scruples. She saw the true bravery and intellectual honesty -- the manliness -- Gustavo always displayed, in both small and large matters.
The story is not a political, anti-war tract, as a few reviews have suggested. The war in Vietnam is just the accidental subject on which the family differences are played out. This is a story of a most believable family, with all the happy and sad moments that every family experiences. But it is a family drama revealed in the context of its being a Mexican-American family living in the fraught year of 1967.
Sáenz once again demonstrates how "American" second and third generation Mexican-American families truly are. Gustavo and Xochil and Charlie are Mexican only in superficial aspects of family traditions. President Trump would see their family, and the people they know, as a slap in his face, rendering absurd his claims that immigrants across the southern border were largely murderers and rapists.
In a wrenching conclusion, Gustavo receives his draft notice. The decisions he makes in reaction tear him apart from the family that has meant everything to him for 18 years.
You have left everything you have ever known. You are taking a journey that millions of immigrants have taken. Immigrants who leave behind their homelands for reasons that are known to them alone.A strong and deeply moving story. A tragedy in the Greek sense of good people facing and accepting the conflict between their conscience and the implacable forces they confront.
And thus their ultimate fate.
April 16, 2009
Not terrible, but terribly depressing. EVERY character in the book is depressed, except one, and you just get the feeling he might not be so bright. I might go back to it to skim...just to see what happens. Almost 200 pages in and the big thing that's supposed to be so disastrous hasn't happened, yet.
October 4, 2011
Absolutely loved this book. Loved the perspective of each family member. Loved how the author developed relationships between the generations and the teenage peers. One of my all time favorite books!
April 15, 2011
This book started out really slow for me and although I did get a little more into it by the end of the book I couldn't get past the beginning or the use of the f word in just about every paragraph.
April 14, 2020
The afterward of this book "Reflections" does something unusual: it states 15 reasons the author wrote the book, what he calls a political novel. I'm following his lead with 7 reasons I read the novel:
1. I found the cover interesting. Unfortunately, it has no connection with the setting or content of the book.
2. The book is set in 1967, the year I graduated from high school, a year when the Vietnam War was raging and draft claimed most every graduate who wasn't exempt as a college student or essential worker. It was impossible to escape the politics around that war then, and I wanted to revisit this time.
3. I still have conflicted feelings about that war and my standing on the sidelines. I went to college in part because of the student deferment, but I also really wanted to extend my education. Two years later, the country finally became aware of how unjust it was to send the poor off to die in Vietnam while those of us who could afford college or otherwise could buy an exemption. The lottery determined who would go to Viet Nam and who could go on with their lives unaffected. I won the lottery (number 214) and went on with life.
4. Even though I took advantage of my privileged status, I still engaged in the political talk of the day. I spoke up, I voted, and the day after we extended the war into Cambodia, I marched with several thousand other students to protest the expansion. Still, that was a puny effort, and I could have done more. Thus the guilt, and another reason to read this book.
5. I have explored this topic by reading, especially two other great American novels, The Things They Carriedand The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I wanted to see how this fit in.
6. The others were all reasons I started the book. I almost did not finish it. For me, it lacked movement, anything to move the story forward. I get it, the characters are all stuck in indecision. Still, I tired of reading the same thoughts over and over, from multiple perspectives, without any action or other development to move the story forward. 300 pages is a lot of internal conflict to deal with. So the reason I did not abandon the book, something I very rarely do, is because I found myself caring deeply for the characters and I needed to see how they found resolution.
The book does reach its resolution, but it came without a turning point or climax, and its ending was never really in doubt.
7. Another reason I kept reading is that it became more than just a rehash of the political conflict of 1967 - it is also an engaging portrait of a second generation Mexican American family.
1. I found the cover interesting. Unfortunately, it has no connection with the setting or content of the book.
2. The book is set in 1967, the year I graduated from high school, a year when the Vietnam War was raging and draft claimed most every graduate who wasn't exempt as a college student or essential worker. It was impossible to escape the politics around that war then, and I wanted to revisit this time.
3. I still have conflicted feelings about that war and my standing on the sidelines. I went to college in part because of the student deferment, but I also really wanted to extend my education. Two years later, the country finally became aware of how unjust it was to send the poor off to die in Vietnam while those of us who could afford college or otherwise could buy an exemption. The lottery determined who would go to Viet Nam and who could go on with their lives unaffected. I won the lottery (number 214) and went on with life.
4. Even though I took advantage of my privileged status, I still engaged in the political talk of the day. I spoke up, I voted, and the day after we extended the war into Cambodia, I marched with several thousand other students to protest the expansion. Still, that was a puny effort, and I could have done more. Thus the guilt, and another reason to read this book.
5. I have explored this topic by reading, especially two other great American novels, The Things They Carriedand The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I wanted to see how this fit in.
6. The others were all reasons I started the book. I almost did not finish it. For me, it lacked movement, anything to move the story forward. I get it, the characters are all stuck in indecision. Still, I tired of reading the same thoughts over and over, from multiple perspectives, without any action or other development to move the story forward. 300 pages is a lot of internal conflict to deal with. So the reason I did not abandon the book, something I very rarely do, is because I found myself caring deeply for the characters and I needed to see how they found resolution.
The book does reach its resolution, but it came without a turning point or climax, and its ending was never really in doubt.
7. Another reason I kept reading is that it became more than just a rehash of the political conflict of 1967 - it is also an engaging portrait of a second generation Mexican American family.
April 20, 2016
he Espejo family of El Paso, Texas, is like so many others in America in 1967, trying to make sense of a rapidly escalating war they feel does not concern them. But when the eldest son, Gustavo, a complex and errant rebel, receives a certified letter ordering him to report to basic training, he chooses to flee instead to Mexico. Retreating back to the land of his grandfather—a foreign country to which he is no longer culturally connected—Gustavo sets into motion a series of events that will have catastrophic consequences on the fragile bonds holding the family together.
Told with raw power and searing bluntness, and filled with important themes as immediate as today’s headlines, Names on a Map is arguably the most important work to date of a major American literary artist.
My Thoughts
Like everything else I’ve read by Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Names on a Map does not disappoint. He tells a captivating story that is simultaneously beautiful and devastating. For me, reading one of his books is always a deeply moving experience. Recently, I heard the term brutiful used to describe something that is both beautiful and brutal at the same time. While brutiful certainly doesn’t do justice to the aesthetic or lyricism of Sáenz’s writing, I think the idea of the word captures an important aspect of what makes his work so outstanding. For those familiar with Sáenz’s other novels, you may find his characters here comfortingly familiar as they seem to have pieces of Sammy, Gigi, Aristotle, and Dante, among others.
As we’ve explained in earlier posts, we’re alternating between young adult and adult novels this year for our book group. Our young adult book reviews focus on how and why a particular book could be used with students. We want our adult reviews to have a similar educational focus, but perhaps more on how and why a book is a valuable reflective experience for educators. So, while there’s much I could say about Names on a Map, I’m going to focus on the themes that I hope will be the most relevant to the topics of conversation we have as educators.
A highly character-driven novel, Sáenz tells his story through the alternating points of view of the Espejo family and other members of their El Paso community. Revealing the climax of the story early, Sáenz focuses on the characters’ struggles for self-understanding. One review critiques this, arguing that “Sáenz deftly captures a mood, but his obsession with introspection bloats the family story.” I disagree. I think this is an essential piece to what makes it such a beautiful book. Self-reflection, introspection, and mindfulness are things our society seems to struggle with more and more. Just think about the large number of recent self-help bestsellers that are about mindfulness. While there is obviously something here that we are grappling with as a society, there’s little if any conversation about how to teach our students these skills or how this can impact the practice of education. Interestingly, studies have linked student success to the amount of time teachers have to reflect on how and what they’re teaching. The more time for reflection the more successful students are. It’s not surprising that the U.S. tends to rank at the bottom in terms of the amount of time teachers are given for such reflection. If we find Sáenz’s emphasis on reflection uncomfortable, perhaps we should ask ourselves why that is.
It is the introspective nature of Sáenz’s characters that safeguards against oversimplifying what was a complex period of U.S. history. There’s no question where Sáenz stands on the Vietnam War. In the back matter he shares that he wanted to write a political book, and he did. And it’s a compelling one. But while he clearly is making a point, he does it without demonizing anyone. It was a complicated time in the U.S. People were part of the collateral damage—both those who died and those who survived. While he offers a critique of those who seemed to unquestioningly accept the patriotism of supporting the Vietnam War, he also offers a very compassionate picture of the young men sent to fight that war. He shows all the shades of grey that make war anything but a black and white issue. He finds a way to humanize everyone without weakening his own critique of the war. He speaks truth with grace and shows the value in understanding why people are the way they are and why they do what they do. Yet, at the same time he makes a strong argument for recognizing one’s agency. One of my favorite quotes is a series of reflective questions asked by Gustavo and Xochil’s mother: “That’s what my life had become? Become? Was it as passive as all that? Were we as stationary as trees in the wind? Did we just let life take us along as if human beings were no more sentient than the water a river swept to the sea?” (p. 96).
There are also a number of connections that can be made between contemporary discussions around immigration and the role immigration plays in the novel. Immigration has an important historical role in Names on a Map as the older generations reflect on the ways in which they have changed as a result of Mexican immigration to the U.S. during the Mexican Revolution. Many of them immigrated as refugees from the violence of the Revolution. Decades later they continue to think of themselves as living in exile. This affects not only the ways in which they engage with society and younger generations, but their own personal psychology and identity. This is significant because it can expand and complicate in important ways how we think about immigration today.
We don’t often think about how the history of immigration in a family continues to affect future generations, but we should, especially in light of the numbers of unaccompanied minors travelling from Central America and the refugee crisis in Europe. What are the effects of inheriting exile? As Octavio, the father, ponders: “You remember what your father said when he was forced to leave Mexico, forced to leave the only piece of earth he’d ever love. Todos somos huérfanos en este maldito mundo. Orphans all of us in this cruel and breaking earth” (p. 229). Then, later Gustavo, the son, realizes, “Your grandfather lost everything, his land, his riches, his country. Your father inherited exile” (p. 273). This is the reality of a growing number of our students. Sadly, what Gustavo says is true for too many children: “In the end, you will always be a child of war” (p. 302). I’ll close with a quote that I think is important for all of us who work with children to consider. As Gustavo’s mother struggles with the possibility of losing her son to the draft for the Vietnam War she reflects, “But if I had to make a choice between a country and my son, then I would choose my son. . .I did idealize my children. I thought they were all beautiful enough to save. All of them.” (p. 310). For me, this is a powerful thought. What if all of us who worked in some capacity with children believed they were ALL beautiful enough to save, and we were willing to choose saving them over all else?
For access to the full review and additional resources, check out our Vamos a Leer blog at teachinglatinamericathroughliterature.com.
Told with raw power and searing bluntness, and filled with important themes as immediate as today’s headlines, Names on a Map is arguably the most important work to date of a major American literary artist.
My Thoughts
Like everything else I’ve read by Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Names on a Map does not disappoint. He tells a captivating story that is simultaneously beautiful and devastating. For me, reading one of his books is always a deeply moving experience. Recently, I heard the term brutiful used to describe something that is both beautiful and brutal at the same time. While brutiful certainly doesn’t do justice to the aesthetic or lyricism of Sáenz’s writing, I think the idea of the word captures an important aspect of what makes his work so outstanding. For those familiar with Sáenz’s other novels, you may find his characters here comfortingly familiar as they seem to have pieces of Sammy, Gigi, Aristotle, and Dante, among others.
As we’ve explained in earlier posts, we’re alternating between young adult and adult novels this year for our book group. Our young adult book reviews focus on how and why a particular book could be used with students. We want our adult reviews to have a similar educational focus, but perhaps more on how and why a book is a valuable reflective experience for educators. So, while there’s much I could say about Names on a Map, I’m going to focus on the themes that I hope will be the most relevant to the topics of conversation we have as educators.
A highly character-driven novel, Sáenz tells his story through the alternating points of view of the Espejo family and other members of their El Paso community. Revealing the climax of the story early, Sáenz focuses on the characters’ struggles for self-understanding. One review critiques this, arguing that “Sáenz deftly captures a mood, but his obsession with introspection bloats the family story.” I disagree. I think this is an essential piece to what makes it such a beautiful book. Self-reflection, introspection, and mindfulness are things our society seems to struggle with more and more. Just think about the large number of recent self-help bestsellers that are about mindfulness. While there is obviously something here that we are grappling with as a society, there’s little if any conversation about how to teach our students these skills or how this can impact the practice of education. Interestingly, studies have linked student success to the amount of time teachers have to reflect on how and what they’re teaching. The more time for reflection the more successful students are. It’s not surprising that the U.S. tends to rank at the bottom in terms of the amount of time teachers are given for such reflection. If we find Sáenz’s emphasis on reflection uncomfortable, perhaps we should ask ourselves why that is.
It is the introspective nature of Sáenz’s characters that safeguards against oversimplifying what was a complex period of U.S. history. There’s no question where Sáenz stands on the Vietnam War. In the back matter he shares that he wanted to write a political book, and he did. And it’s a compelling one. But while he clearly is making a point, he does it without demonizing anyone. It was a complicated time in the U.S. People were part of the collateral damage—both those who died and those who survived. While he offers a critique of those who seemed to unquestioningly accept the patriotism of supporting the Vietnam War, he also offers a very compassionate picture of the young men sent to fight that war. He shows all the shades of grey that make war anything but a black and white issue. He finds a way to humanize everyone without weakening his own critique of the war. He speaks truth with grace and shows the value in understanding why people are the way they are and why they do what they do. Yet, at the same time he makes a strong argument for recognizing one’s agency. One of my favorite quotes is a series of reflective questions asked by Gustavo and Xochil’s mother: “That’s what my life had become? Become? Was it as passive as all that? Were we as stationary as trees in the wind? Did we just let life take us along as if human beings were no more sentient than the water a river swept to the sea?” (p. 96).
There are also a number of connections that can be made between contemporary discussions around immigration and the role immigration plays in the novel. Immigration has an important historical role in Names on a Map as the older generations reflect on the ways in which they have changed as a result of Mexican immigration to the U.S. during the Mexican Revolution. Many of them immigrated as refugees from the violence of the Revolution. Decades later they continue to think of themselves as living in exile. This affects not only the ways in which they engage with society and younger generations, but their own personal psychology and identity. This is significant because it can expand and complicate in important ways how we think about immigration today.
We don’t often think about how the history of immigration in a family continues to affect future generations, but we should, especially in light of the numbers of unaccompanied minors travelling from Central America and the refugee crisis in Europe. What are the effects of inheriting exile? As Octavio, the father, ponders: “You remember what your father said when he was forced to leave Mexico, forced to leave the only piece of earth he’d ever love. Todos somos huérfanos en este maldito mundo. Orphans all of us in this cruel and breaking earth” (p. 229). Then, later Gustavo, the son, realizes, “Your grandfather lost everything, his land, his riches, his country. Your father inherited exile” (p. 273). This is the reality of a growing number of our students. Sadly, what Gustavo says is true for too many children: “In the end, you will always be a child of war” (p. 302). I’ll close with a quote that I think is important for all of us who work with children to consider. As Gustavo’s mother struggles with the possibility of losing her son to the draft for the Vietnam War she reflects, “But if I had to make a choice between a country and my son, then I would choose my son. . .I did idealize my children. I thought they were all beautiful enough to save. All of them.” (p. 310). For me, this is a powerful thought. What if all of us who worked in some capacity with children believed they were ALL beautiful enough to save, and we were willing to choose saving them over all else?
For access to the full review and additional resources, check out our Vamos a Leer blog at teachinglatinamericathroughliterature.com.
August 9, 2024
This book loosely follows 5 young men who either signed up for or were conscripted to fight in the Vietnam war, and closely followed the immigrant family of one of the young men. It covers themes of war, violence, masculinity and family dynamics. While it doesn't discuss much of the Vietnam war directly, it explores the different perspectives and attitudes towards duty and conflict through a tapestry of human experiences. As a woman who has never and probably will never be demanded into war, I found the perspectives offered to be valuable, and for that reason I am glad I read the book. That being said, I would not recommend it.
I enjoyed the short chapters with the rapid shift in perspective from character to character, and the blunt delivery. However I generally did not enjoy the writing style, which felt unnecessarily pretentious to the point of inauthenticity, with attempts to be poetic and deep feeling contrived and out of place. I also found some of the rapid conversations between characters difficult to infer tone from, and on numerous occasions I realised further down the page that I completely misinterpreted a dialogue. Although, to the authors credit, both the characters and their interpersonal relationships were beautifully constructed and well fleshed out. Nevertheless, the book ultimately tried too hard and it missed the mark.
It was also completely spoilt by the incredibly misleading blurb. It makes it sound like the book is about navigating exile and the impact that had on the family, but the book ends with Gustavo's exile and the realities of this are given 3 flowery pages in a disappointing final chapter.
I do think this book had potential, and I can see some merits in it, but it wasn't executed well and I wouldn't have finished it if I wasn't reading it for book club.
I enjoyed the short chapters with the rapid shift in perspective from character to character, and the blunt delivery. However I generally did not enjoy the writing style, which felt unnecessarily pretentious to the point of inauthenticity, with attempts to be poetic and deep feeling contrived and out of place. I also found some of the rapid conversations between characters difficult to infer tone from, and on numerous occasions I realised further down the page that I completely misinterpreted a dialogue. Although, to the authors credit, both the characters and their interpersonal relationships were beautifully constructed and well fleshed out. Nevertheless, the book ultimately tried too hard and it missed the mark.
It was also completely spoilt by the incredibly misleading blurb. It makes it sound like the book is about navigating exile and the impact that had on the family, but the book ends with Gustavo's exile and the realities of this are given 3 flowery pages in a disappointing final chapter.
I do think this book had potential, and I can see some merits in it, but it wasn't executed well and I wouldn't have finished it if I wasn't reading it for book club.
February 2, 2018
benjamin alire saenz is not the kind of author you devour; he's the kind you savor. so many books are full of emotions but i haven't come across any other author who allows you to marinate in those emotions like saenz does. everything he puts to paper is poetry. even, no especially, his dialogue. the changes in pov, both from person to person and from 1st to 2nd to 3rd, only add to the artistry of it. the only complaint i have is the loose knot of sylvia's son who went AWOL. the whole time i was so sure it was adam but then we find out he died in vietnam so that confused me, but mostly because of my own expectations. i do understand the purpose of adam and abe, to better paint the picture of the war. this book was as political as it was emotional, but i mean can you even have one without the other? this story just absolutely filled my heart up.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 31, 2017
The best part of Names on a Map is the sense of place - El Paso - that Dr. Sáenz creates. I also admire the depths to which he gets into both his male and female characters. I was especially fond of Xochil and Charlie.
I did get a little lost in the narratives of some of the secondary characters, specifically those two souls serving in Viet Nam, and felt a little impatient at the slowness of the pace about midway in the book.
But overall, a satisfying immersion into a place, a family, and a time in our history.
I did get a little lost in the narratives of some of the secondary characters, specifically those two souls serving in Viet Nam, and felt a little impatient at the slowness of the pace about midway in the book.
But overall, a satisfying immersion into a place, a family, and a time in our history.
April 18, 2018
The cover is a bit misleading as this really isn't about the story of a young man fleeing to Mexico. Rather, it's an introspective look into the struggles of a young man torn between his country of America and his Mexican culture and blood. Torn between fighting a war he doesn't believe in or going anyway to please his father and the expectations of a nation. This book will make you think twice about why we think war turns boys into men and whether pointing a gun at an unknown enemy and having one, in turn, pointed at you makes you more grateful to your nation.
August 2, 2024
Reading the blurb of this book it suggests an interesting story about life for those in exile and the impact on family - in reality this is just an excuse for a rant about war, a chance for the writer to express both their love and hate for it, but the books is too much like an essay to be enjoyable
August 7, 2024
A serious novel about family and the Vietnam war. It was personal and touching in a lot of places but not something I would pick up again. I liked how quickly the narrative changed between the characters as it kept it fresh but I did lose a few of the characters along the way. Glad that I’ve read it but not sure I would recommend it.
November 8, 2016
Really good. Interesting to remember the Vietnam war and all the divisions of people during that time, in this time of the election with Clinton and Trump. though the deep divisions were there, the division now feels a bit different.
March 4, 2017
This is a slow, poetic book that searches for meaning in war and identity in one's gender, one's family, and one's country. It's about a Mexican American family during the Vietnam War and the individual struggles put on them by this war that they are largely disconnected from in different ways. It's an extremely introspective book - the entire 400+ pages takes place over only a few days. It's a different kind of war novel, focusing more on inner battles than the outer. It says a lot about the Vietnam War by rarely bringing us to the Vietnam within the story. It says a lot to about Mexico without bringing us to Mexico. I, personally, as a white person who's lived her entire life in the northeast of America, have never really considered Mexico, Vietnam, and Texas as three places together that have stories that entangle with each other- which is completely ignorant. As books should, this book expanded the plane of history, of people, and of the world in my mind. And as someone who also has never been closely affected by war, I found this book very insightful and made me consider things I might not be inclined to when faced with the topic of war, violence, and politics in general.
As I said, this book is slow, but I really enjoyed it for its introspection and characters. It was not a happy book, and there were times that I did feel bored, but mainly that had to do with the fact that I preferred certain character POV's over others. This book is not a thriller, and there is no physical action- but it's a thinker.
Characters: This book is all about voices. The characters, most coming from a single family, are extremely diverse in their personalities and beliefs. The story focuses on the Espejos, a soldier in bootcamp, and a soldier in Vietnam itself. I loved that there was no single character that I agreed with completely, and no single character that I didn't. The characters in this book really exemplified the differences in human perceptions of honor, weakness, of manhood, womanhood, goodness and badness and war- and that in the end, there is no right or wrong, but only our own choices. And in the political climate we live in today (and any period of history), it really made me think. This book was full of very strong characters.
Writing: Before this book, I don't believe I'd ever read a book that has every kind of point of view- first, second, third limited, and third omniscient. This one does. Normally, I feel as if I might not be a fan of this, but this author really manages to pull it off. Since this is a book all about voices, I found it very appropriate and loved the symbolism of it. The writing is very beautiful and truthful, if a bit wordy at times. I enjoyed the poetic quality of it.
Was I satisfied? Yeah! This book made me more aware of the larger world and a part of history I haven't given as much time to as others, considering I love history so much. It was a bit too slow at times, but it was book full of very strong voices and I enjoyed reading it .
As I said, this book is slow, but I really enjoyed it for its introspection and characters. It was not a happy book, and there were times that I did feel bored, but mainly that had to do with the fact that I preferred certain character POV's over others. This book is not a thriller, and there is no physical action- but it's a thinker.
Characters: This book is all about voices. The characters, most coming from a single family, are extremely diverse in their personalities and beliefs. The story focuses on the Espejos, a soldier in bootcamp, and a soldier in Vietnam itself. I loved that there was no single character that I agreed with completely, and no single character that I didn't. The characters in this book really exemplified the differences in human perceptions of honor, weakness, of manhood, womanhood, goodness and badness and war- and that in the end, there is no right or wrong, but only our own choices. And in the political climate we live in today (and any period of history), it really made me think. This book was full of very strong characters.
Writing: Before this book, I don't believe I'd ever read a book that has every kind of point of view- first, second, third limited, and third omniscient. This one does. Normally, I feel as if I might not be a fan of this, but this author really manages to pull it off. Since this is a book all about voices, I found it very appropriate and loved the symbolism of it. The writing is very beautiful and truthful, if a bit wordy at times. I enjoyed the poetic quality of it.
Was I satisfied? Yeah! This book made me more aware of the larger world and a part of history I haven't given as much time to as others, considering I love history so much. It was a bit too slow at times, but it was book full of very strong voices and I enjoyed reading it .
December 5, 2019
I kinda hate books that contain alot of musings of minds. So its a testament to how beautifully this author writes that i loved this book because all it is, is musings. The impact of one war on so many people as they turn from boys and girls to men and women.
August 2, 2020
American contemp....Sept 1967 El Paso, TX....Mexican-American family, voiced from each member, grandmother’s death and Vietnam War draft. Narration fluxes between 8 characters, also between first/second/third person, beautifully.
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