Gary Soto
Gary Soto is known for a body of work that deals with the realities of growing up in Mexican American communities. In poems, novels, short stories, plays and over two dozen books for young people, Soto recreates the world of the barrio, the urban, Spanish-speaking neighborhood where he was raised, bringing the sights, sounds and smells vividly to life within the pages of his books. Soto’s poetry and prose focus on everyday experiences while evoking the harsh forces that often shape life for Chicanos, including racism, poverty, and crime. In his writing, as Raymund Paredes noted in the Rocky Mountain Review, “Soto establishes his acute sense of ethnicity and, simultaneously, his belief that certain emotions, values, and experiences transcend ethnic boundaries and allegiances.” Soto himself has said that “as a writer, my duty is not to make people perfect, particularly Mexican Americans. I’m not a cheerleader. I’m one who provides portraits of people in the rush of life.” Soto has received high praise for his poetry—his collections have been finalists for the Pulitzer Prize and the National Book Award, and he has received a Nation/Discovery Award and the Levinson Award from Poetry. However, Soto is perhaps best known and most beloved as a writer for children and young adults. Exploring universal themes like alienation, family life, and choices, Soto’s work for young and adolescent readers has been praised for its honest portrayal of communities too often relegated to the margins of American life. He has received many awards for his work as a children’s author, including awards from the National Education Association and the PEN Center, and the Tomás Rivera Book Award. Link below to continue reading
[box]Wednesday, May 18, 2005[/box]
[quote]I was hoping to be happy by seventeen.
School was a sharp check mark in the roll book,
An obnoxious tube playing at noon…[/quote]
– Gary Soto, “Saturday at the Canal”
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Listen to Gary Soto’s 2005 reading for the Poetry Center of Chicago:
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[quote]First I forgot your voice, then the photo you gave me.
When a leaf fell I no longer
Thought of you, shy and wordless, in a raked yard.
I no longer saw you as
The dark girl among trees,
At the entrance to a story for which
The end was always marriage and a bright car.
Your voice never came back; at night
I was left to my nonsense and a typewriter
That couldn’t get things right.[/quote]
– Gary Soto, “Her”
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Watch Gary Soto read some of his work:
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