Publishers Weekly
01/22/2024
Based in family history, this opaquely told account of the Armenian genocide is narrated by a maturing child who survives the events. A warm moment—mother and child cooking together—ends with a knock and a whispered conversation. Dressing the protagonist and two sisters in ragged clothing, Mama sews gold buttons inside, “in case you need them,” and promises she’ll soon follow. The children cross a desert alongside others “for days. For weeks. For months,” the narrator holding “on to Mama’s words like a prayer.” After the children reach “a land with blankets and water and food. A land far from Mama,” Boukarim traces the protagonist growing up, having “lost my words” to discuss these experiences, even through adulthood—until an intergenerational moment opens a pathway to the past. Digital illustrations from Avedikian use a flat graphic style to convey the events and saturated, chalk-like ribbons to delve into moments of memory in a telling that, while eliding definitive historical events in favor of an experiential telling, hints at unspoken events held, for decades, within. Creators’ notes and a history conclude. Ages 5–8. (Mar.)
From the Publisher
Heartbreaking yet warmly tinged with hope.” — Kirkus Reviews
“A necessary and well-crafted picture book about a part of world history too often ignored.” — The Horn Book Magazine
“Boukarim traces the protagonist growing up, having “lost my words” to discuss these experiences, even through adulthood—until an intergenerational moment opens a pathway to the past.” — Publishers Weekly
Kirkus Reviews
2023-12-06
An Armenian grandfather reflects on his past.
Cooking with his mama, a young boy has no reason to believe anything is out of the ordinary. But people are leaving town, and Mama tells the child and his sisters that they must go, too. She and their father will follow soon. The boy has much he wants to express, but he has lost the words. He endures a long, weary march through the desert and makes it to safety but doesn’t reunite with his parents. The boy grows older and has children and grandchildren. The pain recedes, but the words don’t return—until his grandson, on a day so like the first, asks where they are from. Stories of the Armenian genocide are rarely committed to paper, but nearly every diasporic Armenian family has them, keeping them as close as the ubiquitous sepia-toned photos of relatives whose lives were lost but whose names remain. Though inspired by the experiences of the author’s husband’s grandfather, this is also the story of the countless children forced to leave their homes for reasons they couldn’t articulate and of their children and grandchildren, who will always strive to know where they come from. The warm, soft illustrations add a dreamlike quality to the spare words, moving in their simplicity. The tale might seem detached on the surface, but it can hardly be anything else, when the words to tell it fully have been lost.
Heartbreaking yet warmly tinged with hope. (author’s and illustrator’s notes, history of the Armenian genocide, facts about Armenia, glossary, selected bibliography) (Picture book. 5-8)
