Image courtesy of Harper Collins

I have always loved poetry. I enjoy hearing it, reading it, deciphering it, and creating it. It makes me feel free of literary and life constraints. That is why, when I realized that the one non-textbook book that I was required to consume for the “teaching writing in secondary schools” class I’m currently enrolled in was comprised entirely of poems, I got excited. The book is called The Poet X. Written by Elizabeth Acevedo and published in 2018, it earned a National Book Award, Michael L. Printz Award for excellence in young adult literature, and Pura Belpré Award. So far (about 50 pages in), I feel strongly connected with this work.
Poetry aside, one of the reasons why I appreciate this young adult novel is that Acevedo’s writing allows me to hear the voices of my seventh-grade students in main character/narrator/poet/writer Xiomara (AKA “X”) Batista. I say this not because Xiomara is Latinx (that’s the non-gender-binary way of saying Latino/a), but instead, because the stories and introspective wonderings that she includes are highly believable. I relate to X’s musings on female adolescence on a personal level as well. When X got her period, for instance, and her mom didn’t think she should learn how to use tampons at that age (fifth grade), I was reminded of a similar experience I had. Like X, my mother was devoutly religious as a school-aged child, and her views on sex and anything remotely sexual reflect that. Also, regarding X, although I didn’t go to school in an inner-city, I work in one now. Finally, I lived in New York City for a year during college, and Harlem has a very special place in my heart. That being said, some of the language Acevedo has X use and the issues that she deals with at school remind me of what I see and hear at my job. I feel just as happy, however, to hear a strong young female sharing her story in a candid and original way-- wherever she might live and attend school.
The structure of The Poet X is unique because it’s not just a collection of interrelated poems. Rather, its separate parts form a linear, cohesive narrative that has already taught me, one of its readers, about two things. The first is the young female experience. The next is exactly what it was like for X character to be a first-generation American-born Dominican whose mother did not come here of her own volition. Interestingly, volition is the operative word that X meditates on when she sits at her church’s confirmation class one day.
Moving forward with my reading of this exciting new book, I wonder how much of a connection Acevedo has with her speaker/poet. I am also curious as to what events may unfold as X gets older, especially relating to her high school career and involvement in Church, plus her relationship with her twin brother and former bestie.
Melani,
ReplyDeleteThank you for this post! I also wrote about my appreciation for this reading, but it was a newfound one because previously, I had a very strong distaste for poetry. I'm really glad that you have always had a love of poetry, and from your previous blog post when you did a poem for the yeahwrite, it's clear. I totally agree that the linear nature of the book is unique and I love the point hat you bring up the fact that X is a first gen Dominican born American, because while I did the reading, that point must've slipped my mind and certain things about her life and identity make so much more sense now. :)