By Kate Schatz (author of Rad American Women A-Z)
My Three Best Friends and Me, Zulay
I’ve always been a careful curator of my kids’ bookshelves, stocking them with my own childhood favorites alongside treasured classics and new finds that I think are cool/smart/gorgeous/important/not lame/etc. But as my daughter gets older (almost six!) and engages more with the World of Outside Influences, I’ve noticed my house filling with books I’ve never seen before. They come in from grandparents and neighbors or the Little Free Library around the corner. She swaps with classmates, finds them on thrift store trips with dad or library adventures with the babysitter. Bottom line: the kid loves books. All books. And I love books—just not all the ones she brings home. They’re mostly ok—not great—and I’ve only had to sneakily recycle a handful of them that were just not cool (some Barbie ones, and this one godawful series for MG readers that seemed to be mostly about how school is stupid and so are girls). SO! When I came home from a week away on a book tour I was surprised and excited to find this book on the couch, atop one of the book piles that ubiquitously decorate our living room.
My Three Best Friends and Me, Zulay, by Cari Best with illustrations by Vanessa Brantley-Newton (who also did the wonderful illustrations for One Love, the Bob Marley-based book), caught my attention immediately—I do judge books by their covers, thanks very much—with its bright, cheerful, and multiracial characters. The only indicator that this “Zulay” is at all different from her best friends is the slim cane she holds in her hand as she steps just ahead of her pack of pals. I asked my daughter where the book came from, and she casually replied “Oh, the book thing,” which I took to mean that someone had actually remembered to help her fill out the book order form for class (it wasn’t me!). “Is it good?” I asked. “YES!” was her reply, which in itself is an excellent review and I could probably stop now. But! I won’t. Because this book is rad.
The kiddo and I curled up on the couch to read about Zulay, and I was impressed from the first page. Bold, happy images on each page, and text that is just fun enough (“We link our arms and skip our legs and sing like the stereo till Ms. Perkins, the hall lady, tells us to stop”) without being too cutesy or silly. The story centers around Zulay, who is probably in 1st or 2nd grade, and follows her over the course of a single school day (until the end when we fast forward a few weeks to a special event). Zulay and her best friends—Maya, Nancy, and Chyng—“help each other” and also “help themselves”, which is a theme that runs throughout the book. On several occasions we see Zulay and her friends helping each other (especially with math). This idea of caring support and independence is important for any young reader, but is especially powerful for those with special needs. And it’s important for Zulay, because though it’s never actually stated in the text, this giddy, ambitious, happy-go-lucky protagonist is blind.
And yes, you read that right—it never says that she’s blind. Throughout the book readers receive subtle textual and visual clues about Zulay’s vision impairment—an emphasis on non-visual sensory details (“Her key clicks the lock”; “I feel with my knees for where the chair fits and sit in my seat”), the cane that she keeps folded in her desk, the way she feels a small pyramid during math and then tries to draw it. She uses a Brailler to write in class, and the students’ desks all have their names in standard English as well as Braille. Toward the end of the book, Zulay goes to work with Ms. Turner, who is helping her learn to use the cane, despite Zulay’s nervous resistance. It is clear, by this point, that Zulay needs special help, and most young readers will understand by this point that she cannot see.
So why does it matter that it doesn’t say she’s blind, or explain what “blind” is? I’d argue that by foregrounding Zulay the Person instead of Zulay’s Disability, readers develop and expand both their inference skills as well as their understanding of differently abled people. It makes Zulay a relatable person first, not The Blind Girl. I also appreciate that while Zulay is not defined by her vision impairment, the book doesn’t pretend that it is not an enormous challenge for her. Zulay doesn’t like when she’s singled out to go work with Ms. Turner (“I don’t like when I hear my name sticking out there by itself…like a car alarm in the night waking everybody up”) but her hard work pays off when she decides she wants to compete in a foot race during the school’s Field Day competition. I won’t spoil the ending, but, duh, it’s a happy and inspiring one that will have kids and grown-ups cheering for Zulay.
Finally, I also love that this book is diverse in its content and characters, while not being “about” racial diversity. Zulay is African-American and her three best friends are white, Chinese, and African-American. Her classroom teacher reads as Latina, and her classmates are diverse as well, reflective of so many classrooms across the country. My Three Best Friends and Me, Zulay is really not about “being blind” or “being different”, as many disability-themes narratives tend to be. Really, it’s about friendship, perseverance, and believing in ones self—themes we all need! I’m so glad that this book magically appeared in my house, and can’t wait to see what my daughter brings home next.
(Bonus: the back of the book has the Braille alphabet, which my daughter loves running her fingers over!)
My Three Best Friends and Me, Zulay
Hardcover – January 13, 2015
by Cari Best (Author), Vanessa Brantley-Newton (Illustrator)
Age Range: 4 – 8 years
Hardcover: 40 pages
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR); First Edition edition (January 13, 2015)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0374388199
ISBN-13: 978-0374388195