Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow

“Solo mañana sabe (Only tomorrow knows).”

– Pam Muños Ryan

As the landscape of children’s and young adult literature grows with the inclusion of diverse narratives, it carries with it the evolving maturity of a blossoming literary genre. Pam Muños Ryan, best known for her prized novels Esperanza Rising (2000) and Echo (2015), once again takes the young adult genre to new heights with her latest work, Mañanaland. Broken into three sections, “Yesterday,” “Today,” and “Tomorrow,” readers grow alongside the main protagonist, as he discovers that it is not about what was left behind yesterday, but rather about the path to lead us to where we need to go tomorrow. The book is a gift inspirationally artful storytelling, as it takes young readers on a fantastical journey that presents a unique portrayal of migration and Latinidad.

Mañanaland follows the story of Max, an almost-twelve-year-old boy, whose greatest passion is to play fútbol for the Santa María city team, just like his father and grandfather before him. However, when Max is finally old enough to try out for the city team the rules change, requiring that each player provide proof of being born in Santa María. In an interesting twist, Max learns that not only did his mother leave when he was a baby, but she also took his birth certificate with her. As he begins questioning why she left and why none of the adults will talk to him about her, he discovers a family secret. He discovers that members of his family were “guardians” — the helpers of people escaping from a neighboring country, guiding them to Mañanaland, the land of “a different tomorrow, one without fear and filled with kindness, safety, and hope.” When Max’s father travels to a neighboring city to get a new birth certificate, Max finds himself on a quest helping a young girl (Isadora) flee oppression and enslavement. Like most YA novels, Max struggles to find his own agency and must learn what lasting effects his choices make in the spaces around him.

Ryan incorporates a traditional coming-of-age narrative formula and transforms it through fantasy, creating a breathtaking approach of presenting topics of immigration and struggle for young readers. As Max faces the challenges of an “ordinary” boy who believes fútbol is his only calling in life, the plot becomes rooted in a realistic world and connotations of naivety in childhood. Yet, it doesn’t take long for myths to turn a magical and surreal twist, beckoning readers to reimagine what children experience when they must leave everything they have known behind and follow strangers to a place described as hopeful and filled with safer, kinder opportunities.

One significant myth tells the story of the hidden ones and the guardians who protected them during a time of war. Max and his friends recall the tales they’ve heard, saying, “The hidden ones fled Abismo because of a cruel dictator. The guardians bravely guided them through Santa María to safety.” However, many in Santa María don’t believe the hidden ones were trying to escape oppression but rather that they were thieves and murderers, “the worst in the world” running from and trying to escape the law. Here, the young adult characters share the myths they’ve been told, which replicates how biases form and how ideologies on both sides of the immigration debate get passed down. Narratively, doing so does not require readers to immediately pick sides but rather invites them in discovering the tragic truth about why the hidden ones must flee — an authorial move that widens the audience by allowing them to learn

alongside the character rather than assuming they already understand the profound necessity to help immigrants and especially immigrant children.

Myths also do more in the novel; they contain secrets and clues that aid Max on his literal path of self-discovery and maturation. Max pretends to have already been trained as...