Libertad
Libertad
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Publisher's Hardcover ©2024--
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Dial
Annotation: Contains Mature Material
 
Reviews: 6
Catalog Number: #393682
Format: Publisher's Hardcover
Special Formats: Adult Language Adult Language
Publisher: Dial
Copyright Date: 2024
Edition Date: 2024 Release Date: 08/27/24
Pages: 417 pages
ISBN: 0-593-69612-3
ISBN 13: 978-0-593-69612-5
Dewey: Fic
LCCN: 2024034029
Dimensions: 22 cm
Language: English
Reviews:
Starred Review for Kirkus Reviews

A queer coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of the 2017 Honduran presidential election.Named Libertad because she was born on September 15, Honduran Independence Day, high school senior Libi Morazán loves her country. But the right-wing party has ruled since the 2009 U.S.-backed coup, and as a girl who likes girls, she knows she can never fully be herself here. Now, Juan Orlando Hernández is standing for reelection despite the constitutional law prohibiting it, causing protests to erupt in the capital city of Tegucigalpa, where Libi and her family live. When the military police shoot and kill students on her brother Maynor's university campus, everything changes for both siblings. Libi creates a secret Instagram account, @InsurreccionPoeticaHN, to share her political poems, and Maynor joins the student front. Tensions are running high as election day draws closer, and Libi juggles her excitement over a new romance and finding her voice through poetry with her fears about an unfair election and her brother's safety. Zaldívar seamlessly weaves Honduran history and politics into the narrative. The characters are beautifully complex, and the multiple perspectives provide key moments of reflection and deep insight. Spanish appears throughout the text, but even those who don't know the language will easily understand the story, and Libi's poems are translated into English. The existential question of whether to stay or leave will resonate with readers from all backgrounds.An emotionally charged must-read. (content warning, author's note) (Fiction. 14-18)

Kirkus Reviews (Wed Oct 30 00:00:00 CDT 2024)

A queer coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of the 2017 Honduran presidential election.Named Libertad because she was born on September 15, Honduran Independence Day, high school senior Libi Morazán loves her country. But the right-wing party has ruled since the 2009 U.S.-backed coup, and as a girl who likes girls, she knows she can never fully be herself here. Now, Juan Orlando Hernández is standing for reelection despite the constitutional law prohibiting it, causing protests to erupt in the capital city of Tegucigalpa, where Libi and her family live. When the military police shoot and kill students on her brother Maynor's university campus, everything changes for both siblings. Libi creates a secret Instagram account, @InsurreccionPoeticaHN, to share her political poems, and Maynor joins the student front. Tensions are running high as election day draws closer, and Libi juggles her excitement over a new romance and finding her voice through poetry with her fears about an unfair election and her brother's safety. Zaldívar seamlessly weaves Honduran history and politics into the narrative. The characters are beautifully complex, and the multiple perspectives provide key moments of reflection and deep insight. Spanish appears throughout the text, but even those who don't know the language will easily understand the story, and Libi's poems are translated into English. The existential question of whether to stay or leave will resonate with readers from all backgrounds.An emotionally charged must-read. (content warning, author's note) (Fiction. 14-18)

Publishers Weekly (Thu Oct 31 00:00:00 CDT 2024)

Wildlife biologist Boyd debuts with a swashbuckling memoir recounting episodes from a career spent studying and protecting wolves. She recalls falling in love with the animals after working with them at a wildlife sanctuary while attending college in Minnesota in the 1970s. For several decades after graduation, Boyd worked with the University of Montana’s Wolf Ecology Project to restore the wolf population in Glacier National Park, which involved trapping the predators, outfitting them with radio collars, and tracking the packs by searching for collar signals while flying over the park. There are moments of levity, as when she describes trying to subdue three rambunctious pups who wriggled free of their restraints in the backseat of her truck. However, it’s the tales of adventure and derring-do that will keep readers turning pages, such as when she details scrambling up a tree to free a black bear cub, whose leg was clamped in a trap that had gotten stuck in the branches, before the cub’s mother returned. Elsewhere, Boyd describes a pulse-pounding race against time to save a wolf hobbled by a hunter’s trap, a rescue mission that involved a daring attempt to land a ski-plane in the middle of a hunting camp and, when that failed, a swift pursuit of the injured creature by snowmobile. Nature lovers will be riveted. Photos. (Sept.)

School Library Journal (Sun Sep 01 00:00:00 CDT 2024)

Gr 9 Up —In 2017, Libertad, a high school senior living in the Honduran capital of Tegucigalpa, is considering her future and evolving relationships in an atmosphere of political turbulence. After sharing a kiss with her best friend Camila, Libertad worries about being accepted amid the homophobic culture and conservative gender norms in Honduras. As a contentious presidential election nears, protests form across Tegus (as the capital is nicknamed) to denounce the incumbent right-wing government. The tension exacerbates already challenging living conditions, marked by power outages, corruption, and limited career options for people like Libertad's older brother. Libertad finds solace by writing poetry, which she shares from a secret social media account, gaining followers who connect with her powerful words. Surrounding Libertad is a strong cast of family and friends of varying and complex political and social perspectives, which the author depicts with authenticity and empathy. Zald&7;var, who based the novel on real events, provides historical context via flashbacks and dialogue, and concludes with an update on the political state in Honduras. VERDICT An empowering and multifaceted debut novel of queer love and identity, devotion to family, political activism, and personal freedom. Highly recommended.—Jessica Agudelo

Reviewing Agencies: - Find Other Reviewed Titles
Starred Review for Horn Book
Starred Review for Kirkus Reviews
Starred Review for Publishers Weekly
Kirkus Reviews (Wed Oct 30 00:00:00 CDT 2024)
Publishers Weekly (Thu Oct 31 00:00:00 CDT 2024)
School Library Journal (Sun Sep 01 00:00:00 CDT 2024)
Reading Level: 6.0
Interest Level: 9-12
Lexile: HL740L
PROLOGUE
February 2017
"This fucking city," Camila breathed, rolling her eyes that way she did, fast and loud--like this fucking city. 
She shifted, trying to turn to look behind us. The end of her spine dug into my thigh at a painful angle. "Sorry, Libertad," she said, squeezing my wrist. I could taste the vanilla in her perfume, sweet but sharp in my mouth.
I followed her line of vision. We watched the cop walk back to the police car, Miguel's student ID in hand. There was something measured in the way he moved his body. An evident relishing in the flow of his stroll.
My older brother, Maynor, often said Tegucigalpa was best understood by a single rule: la ley del más fuerte, the law of the strongest. The refrain came to him often while driving--when it was clear that stoplights and traffic regulations were not the dominant language in the streets of la capital. Rather, it was the driver with the biggest car--or least scared of a wreck--who set the pace.
In the driver's seat, Miguel also turned his whole body around to look at Carla and Valeria in the back seat. Valeria was trying her best to keep it together--lips pursed and long, thoughtful blinks, like she was finding a way out of this behind her eyes. Her parents, like my mother, would kill her if we ended up having to call them.
Miguel shrugged. "I told y'all I didn't have a license."
The streetlight caught the upper half of his face, emphasizing the sharp bridge of his nose.
"Why don't you just call your dad and put him on speaker? He can tell the cop he let you borrow the car. And that you turn eighteen in, like, three weeks," Carla suggested. The mascara she had applied minutes before brought out the desperation in her eyes.
"I'm driving at night without a license, in a car not registered to my name, with four underage girls. And just look at y'all." Miguel ran his fingers through his still-damp hair. His eyes swept the car. "I can't even tell him we're driving home. We clearly look ready for pijín. Oh, and Camila's sitting on Libertad's lap in the passenger's seat--neither of them wearing a seat belt. That's, like, at least four violations."
"Okay, okay," Valeria said, turning around to look at the police car. The cop stood next to la patrulla, leaning against the driver's door, plugging Miguel's student ID into some system in his car. "Just give him what he wants."
"I don't have that much money on me." Miguel sighed. "So unless all of you help me come up with at least two thousand Lempiras--we're fucked."
"Fine." Valeria shoved at the boxes pressed against her hip. She and Carla barely fit in the back seat around all the junk, hence the seating arrangement with Cami in my lap. "It's better than the alternative."
El chepo strolled back to the car and knocked on Miguel's window. Miguel rolled it down so quick the squeaking of the handle barely registered. The breeze of the night hit Camila's bare thighs. She rubbed her arms--up and down. Behind the cop, the city lights of Tegucigalpa blinked its hundred eyes.
"Bueno," the officer said, handing Miguel his student ID. "You're not supposed to be driving without a license, and I don't believe you're eighteen. I don't believe any of you are. Also, what these two señoritas are doing"--he gestured toward Cami and me in the passenger's seat--"is dangerous. I'll need to impound the vehicle and detain all of you until your legal guardians can claim you."
Miguel took a deep breath. I wondered, then, if he wished there was another guy in the car--someone who might help him do the talking. The police officer's eyes moved between us girls, a glint of hunger in his gaze. Miguel swallowed.
"I understand, Officer Ortiz," he said, glancing at the silver name tag clipped to his left pectoral. "But that's a lot of paperwork for you. And we're just kids, you know?" Miguel stopped for a second to scratch the back of his neck. "We're not up to nada malo. The girls and I were talking, and maybe we can fix this another way. We know how poorly the government pays hard-working police officers . . ."
Ortiz's eyes lit up. Bingo.
"¿Qué proponen?" Ortiz leaned in, pressing his left arm against the top of the window frame. His breath reeked of stale cigarette smoke and onions.
Miguel pulled back a little. "How about . . . two thousand Lempiras, for your trouble? And I promise I'll get my license sorted out soon. We're not going far. My friend here"--he gestured to Camila--"just didn't fit in the back. But it won't happen again."
Ortiz stared into the car for what felt like a minute but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. He licked his lips. There was a frogginess to his features.
I dug my nails into my palm. If he didn't go for it, we were screwed. Add attempted bribery to the list.
Ortiz heaved a sigh and pulled away from the car. "Bueno," he said, throwing his hands up in surrender. "If that's what you can offer . . . I'll take it."
There was a defeated annoyance to his tone, like we had swindled him, made him waste his time.
I wondered what Maynor would say about the law of the strongest right now. Was money the exception to the rule? Or did money determine who the strongest was, who held all the power in any given situation?
Miguel reached for the wallet in his back pocket. He had to lift his body from the seat to get it, bending his head to avoid hitting the roof.
"Come on." He turned to the rest of us. "It's four hundred each."
My shoulders dropped. Yes, this left me with less than a hundred crumpled Lempiras for the rest of the night--but still, better than the alternative. The four of us handed Miguel the purple and yellow bills, wrinkled from being shoved in pockets or pressed against waistbands.
The cop grabbed the cash and shoved it into his front pocket, not bothering to count any of it.
"Buenas noches," he said, slapping the roof of the car twice before turning back. Miguel started the engine. As he moved away from the curb, Camila turned the radio's volume back up. Reggaeton filled the car, pierced by Carla's and Valeria's exploding laughter. Warmth rushed through my veins.
"This fucking city," Cami repeated, laughing this time.
"Guess I'm not drinking tonight," I said. "'Cause that was all my money."
"Same," Valeria echoed.
"We'll figure something out." Carla shrugged. "Además . . . una aventura es más divertida si huele a peligro, right?" She loved quoting that Romeo Santos song.
Maybe it was the tamarind Quetzalteca shot we all had before getting in Miguel's car. Or Camila's weight and exposed skin on mine. Or Carla's laughter soaring out the windows. I found myself saying, "Right. Ahuevos, maje."

Excerpted from Libertad by Bessie Flores Zaldivar
All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

A queer YA coming-of-age set during the rigged Honduran presidential election about a young poet discovering the courage it takes to speak her truth about the people and country she loves.

*"In a fraught U.S. election year, this queer, coming-of-age story should be required reading for all.” –Booklist Online, starred review

As the contentious 2017 presidential election looms and protests rage across every corner of the city, life in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, churns louder and faster. For her part, high school senior Libertad (Libi) Morazán takes heart in writing political poetry for her anonymous Instagram account and a budding romance with someone new. But things come to a head when Mami sees texts on her phone mentioning a kiss with a girl and Libi discovers her beloved older brother, Maynor, playing a major role in the protests.

As Libertad faces the political and social corruption around her, stifling homophobia at home and school, and ramped up threats to her poetry online, she begins dreaming of a future in which she doesn’t have to hide who she is or worry about someone she loves losing their life just for speaking up. Then the ultimate tragedy strikes, and leaving her family and friends—plus the only home she’s ever known—might be her only option.


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