Caminar by Skila Brown, (review)

It’s 1981 in Guatemala, and the war that has been raging for nearly thirty years between the military and the farmers who have tried to organize against them has reached Carlos’ small village of Chopán. Out in the forest collecting mushrooms when the soldiers massacre his entire village, a stunned Carlos wanders through the forest, eventually meeting up with a small group of people seeking to join the “rebels” and fight the military. He leads them to his abuela’s village just in time to warn the villagers of an attack, and he is faced with the choice to stay or join the fight. The free-verse poetry in this verse novel is tightly crafted to evoke Carlos’ confusion and emotional turmoil both prior to and after the massacre, employing both shape and resonant language to pull readers into his hesitations, sadness, and terror. Part of him accepts his mother’s verdict that he is too young to take on the responsibilities of manhood in protecting those he loves, but his survivor guilt and lingering fear make him question whether he will ever become a man. The narrative arc is a bit tidy (his quick actions save both his new friends and his abuela’s entire village), but the accessible imagery in the poetry will engage readers on a visceral level, ably communicating the limitations of Carlos’ understanding, both in terms of his youth and his inability to comprehend the full scope of the conflict. A brief author’s note at the beginning sketches the bare bones of the conflict, and a glossary and author interview follow the text.