Multicultural Review: Young Adult Literature for Incarcerated Teens
Multicultural library services must reach out to all groups in the community, including teens that are incarcerated or re-entering society after incarceration. Not only do juvenile detention populations have a disproportionally high percentage of minority youth, but also once incarcerated, juvenile delinquents are further marginalized by society. Incarcerated youth are an outcast social class.
This collection of fiction and nonfiction is what I call the “anchor collection” of essential books about and for incarcerated youth and troubled teens. These books are appropriate for juvenile facility libraries, public libraries, and most high school libraries. Each book features main characters from various minority groups, with portrayals that are realistic and avoid stereotypes. Depending on the reader, the subject content may be completely shocking, or hit close to home. Either way, this collection should appeal to those that would like to learn about the life and culture of incarcerated youth from various backgrounds, and those who know it all too well.
Fiction
Buckhanon, Kalisha. Upstate. New York: St. Martin’s Griffin, 2006. 256 pp. ISBN 978-0312332693, $12.95 (pb).
“When I get out we can get married real quick and start a family and buy a house where you can do hair or make clothes in the basement and I can have a music studio…We can get through it and this can happen for us. I just need for you not to be mad at me and not to leave me…” (p. 30).
Buckhanon’s debut novel about two teen sweethearts in Harlem and the pain of growing up and growing out of love is at once heartbreaking, humorous, and hopeful without sacrificing its realistic story. Before text messages, emails, and instant messengers, people wrote each other letters – remember those? Upstate does, as it begins and ends with letters between Antonio, locked up for the murder of his father, and Natasha, his faithful girlfriend on the outs. While they believe their love can make it through absolutely everything, including Antonio’s incarceration, a near decade of correspondence might prove them wrong.
Enter Harlem, January 1990. At seventeen years old, Michael Antonio Lawrence II is awaiting trial for the stabbing death of his father. His girlfriend Natasha promises to stick with her man even as her family, neighbors, police, and classmates grill her with questions about the murder. Both teens already face less-than-ideal lives. Antonio’s family lives in the projects, and until recently dealt with an alcoholic, wife-beating father. Natasha, also from the projects, lost her own father at a young age, and now must contend with a good-for-nothing stepfather that emotionally abuses his wife and makes Natasha’s life hell. Antonio and Natasha keep each other’s spirits up by reminiscing about the past and the prospect of a future together once Antonio gets out.
Things don’t always work out the way we think it will - that’s just how life works. When Antonio’s trial goes awry, he decides to accept a plea deal for involuntary manslaughter, which gets him 10 years in prison. Natasha and Antonio might promise forever, but between family tragedies on both side, educational opportunities knocking on Natasha’s door, and Antonio doing his best to get what education and work experience he can in prison while maintaining his sanity, staying together becomes more difficult as the weeks turn into months and move into years.
This truly is a beautiful story, outlining the thrill of teenage love and the difference between saying “forever” when you’re sixteen years old to realizing exactly what “forever” really means as an adult. Buckhanon’s characters are well rounded and believable, and they use enough slang to keep the dialogue sounding natural without pushing the book into hardcore urban literature territory. Perhaps this book’s only potential flaw is the author’s treatment of the main characters’ success as adults – it’s not overly optimistic, but it does wrap up a little too neatly.
For those that enjoy YA works, and even for those who don’t, Upstate is definitely worth a look for the love story alone, and is recommended for readers that want a glimpse into the lives of youth growing up in the projects and in prison. For the teenage boys that are already incarcerated and want a good romance from their juvenile hall library, then this book deserves a read.
Myers, Walter Dean. Monster. New York: HarperTeen, 2008. 281 pp. ISBN 978-0064407311, $8.99 (pb).
“You’re young, you’re Black, and you’re on trial. What else do they need to know?” (p. 79)
Where Kalisha Buckhanon used the epistolary form for Upstate, Myers chooses a screenplay format, sprinkled with journal excerpts, for the fictional trial of Steve Harmon, a 16-year-old on trial for murder. Monster, the work’s title, is what the prosecutor calls Steve, and it’s also what Steve decides to name the imagined movie of his trial: “Monster! The Story of My Miserable Life.” As the reader works their way through the cuts, fades, and voiceovers in the screenplay, they, along with the jury, defense attorney, and Steve’s family, must ask themselves this: is Steve Harmon really a “monster”?
Steve is in a rough spot. He’s gone from being a budding high school filmmaker to the accused lookout for a robbery in Harlem that left the convenience store owner, Mr. Nesbitt, dead. It’s difficult to tell if his defense attorney, Kathy O’Brien, believes he’s innocent, but she does her best to convince the jury that Steve is different from the other three defendants – James King, Richard “Bobo” Evans, and Osvaldo Cruz - the guys that held up the store and wrestled the gun away from Mr. Nesbitt. As each courtroom scene unfolds, Steve has to convince himself that he’s sure he didn’t do anything wrong.
Never mind convincing the jury to separate Steve, a decent-looking kid, from the rest of the accused crew – try getting the reader to pull for Steve. The story itself is vague about Steve’s innocence from the beginning, which makes for a slow start to the plot. This is complicated by the fact that the main character isn’t completely sure if he’s innocent or not. For example, he testifies that he wasn’t in the convenience store on the day of the robbery, but his journal says otherwise. The ambiguity of Steve’s innocence or guilt is what drives the book at times – you’ve got to keep reading and evaluating the facts in order to come to your own conclusion.
One of the many ethical issues Monster brings up – and there are many - is the issue of equal guilt. Is a lookout considered just as guilty as the guy that actually held up the convenience store owner? This is something that the reader may especially wrestle with.
This reviewer notes that Monster is the most popular Myers book on the shelf at the Orin Allen Youth Rehabilitation Facility Library in Byron, CA. One ward mentioned that he thought the vagueness of Steve’s innocence or guilt really made the story – he liked that it kept the reader guessing. I agree. The book is admittedly a little slow, but guessing Steve’s outcome is enough incentive to follow the story all the way through. Recommended for readers that want to know what it is like to be an African-American teen on trial in today’s justice system, and for incarcerated youth looking for a good relatable, realistic story.
Nonfiction
Sanchez, Reymundo. My Bloody Life: the Making of a Latin King. Chicago: Chicago Review Press, Inc., 2001. 320 pp. ISBN 978-1556524011, $26.95 (hc).
“This is how Latino youths classify each other – gang member first, human being second” (p. 42).
The title says it all. My Bloody Life: the Making of a Latin King, recounts the brutal youth of Reymundo Sanchez (a pseudonym), a Puerto Rican immigrant in 1980s Chicago that joined the Latin Kings at the tender age of 14. Often hopeless, and chock full of violence, Sanchez presents an honest, ugly look at the painful paths that lead to a life in gangs.
Sanchez seemed doomed from birth. The son of a teen mother and a father in his 70s, Sanchez was born in the back of a pickup truck in Puerto Rico. His father died when Sanchez and his sisters were very young. His mother remarried, and life went downhill from then on. A cousin raped Sanchez at the age of five. His first stepfather physically abused him, as did the second stepfather, and finally his own mother joined in. The violence at home caused his grades to drop and incited him to act up at school, which only resulted in more beatings. Eventually left with his stepfather’s son, a drug dealer, Sanchez began experimenting with drugs and alcohol at age 12, and moved on to his first hit at age 14. That same year, he became a Pewee Latin King, known by his nickname “Lil’ Loco.”
It’s difficult to say what’s more heartbreaking about this book – Sanchez’s empty and loveless childhood, or his teenage years as a violent gang member. Is it any wonder that he joined a gang? Like so many abandoned and abused youth in his neighborhood, Sanchez joined the Latin Kings because they provided him with the protective and seemingly caring family that he never had. No matter that other Kings underwent vicious beatings for violating rules or wanting out, or that anyone could turn on another member at the drop of a hat.
Before this book is written off as completely inappropriate for teens, especially incarcerated teens, bear in mind that this book in no way puts a glamorous spin on gang life. The author is able to look back on his gangbanging days and recognize the many, many things that went horribly wrong. For teen and adult readers that have no clue what goes on in the life a gang member, My Bloody Life will be an eye-opening read. Want to know why kids join gangs? Want to know why it’s so hard for kids to leave the gang? Look no further.
For incarcerated teen boys, this is one of the “rawest” books they’ll find in a juvenile facility library. I work at a juvenile facility library twice a week, and this is one of the most sought-after books at the library. Many wards want a book that “goes crazy” and is about gang violence, guns, and sex – this is the first book I hand to them. Yes, they like the violent action, but for those that come from abusive homes, have joined a gang or considered it, the book hits close to home. Not only is it an interesting and informative read, but it also provides some redemptive value, as the author ends his ties with the Latin Kings and wishes to attend college in his new life.
Kuklin, Susan. No Choirboy: Murder, Violence, and Teenagers on Death Row. New York: Henry Holt and Co., 2008. 224 pp. ISBN 978-0805079500, $17.99 (hc).
“Death row is no place for a kid” (p. 89).
No one needs to tell that to Roy Burgess, Jr., sentenced to death row for murder at 16 years old. Or Mark, sentenced at 14 years old. Through interviews and letters, Kuklin allows readers to glimpse into the lives of prisoners who were sentenced to death row as teenagers, to listen to stories about their upbringing, the actual crime, and life in prison.
It’s one thing to read Walter Dean Myers’ Monster to get an idea about life in prison. It’s another to peruse the interviews in No Choirboy and walk away with real stories about the sense of community on death row versus the cutthroat nature in the general population, the wide availability of marijuana, and serious eruptions of violence. There are the screams of protest from death row inmates one hour before every execution. Then come the questions from death row inmates about capital punishment itself. Inmates can’t take their crime back, but how monstrous does a person have to be to take their life?
The book isn’t just about death row inmates. Kuklin also tells the story of Beazley family and their grief over the execution of their son, Napoleon, given the death penalty when he was 18 years old and executed at 25 years old. The Beazley story is hard to digest. While Napoleon did kill John Luttig, the father of a federal judge, his trial was marred by racially biased jurors and self-serving evidence from the two accomplices that testified against him, only to recant their testimonies years later. At the time, it was almost certain that a Napoleon, an upstanding student with no criminal record, would be handed the death penalty.
No Choirboy doesn’t take an official stance on capital punishment, but the interviews and stories presented raise several important questions about the death penalty. Is it justified? What about for juveniles that are tried as adults? How do we justify the punishment we think criminals deserve?
This is the type of book that should be circulating in high schools and juvenile hall. It not only forces the reader to ask questions about juveniles, crime, and the death penalty, but it may redirect the path of teens that are already incarcerated. There’s no going back once a crime is committed. Life without parole is a long, long time.
Rodriguez, Joseph. Juvenile. Brooklyn: powerHouse Books, 2004. 160 pp. ISBN 978-1576871386 (hc).
“Lance was in the system for 13 years, from group homes to juvenile hall, starting at age five.” (no page numbers)
Never deny the power of photography. Joseph Rodriguez, a photographer and former juvenile delinquent, documents the individuals that make up the California juvenile court system. There are few words that accompany this black-and-white collection of photographs. As it stands, the photography speaks for itself.
One of the saddest pictures is a photograph of a teen boy that mutilated his arms and legs. The picture’s caption notes that he hadn’t seen his mother in 13 years. That’s why he cut himself.
Oddly enough, while the pictures document the journeys of juveniles working their way through the California juvenile court system, a majority of the commentary is not done by the incarcerated teens, but by those that a part of the court system: social workers, probation officers, and judges. Their insights are not out of place in the book, but the commentary might be more effective if a majority of it came from the teens.
Naturally, this book is a quick read, as it is mostly photographs. While the previous four books are all well written stories and give excellent peeks into the lives of incarcerated youth, photography can tell a story in ways that the written word cannot. This time around, readers can actually see where these teens are coming from, their living conditions, and their faces.
Readers will appreciate this short read for packing a hefty punch with each photograph. Incarcerated youth will appreciate the photographs of teens like themselves – teens from all different backgrounds that share the common bond of being locked up.