By Donna Jo Napoli
An unforgettable novel, in accordance with a real tale, approximately racism opposed to Italian americans within the South in 1899.
Fourteen-year-old Calogero, his uncles, and his cousins are six Sicilians residing within the small city of Tallulah, Louisiana, miles from any in their countrymen. They develop greens and promote them at their stand and of their grocery store.
Some humans welcome the immigrants; such a lot don't. Calogero's relatives is stuck in the course of tensions among the black and white groups. As Calogero struggles to conform to Tallulah, he's startled and extremely joyful via the chance of nighttime gator hunts within the bayou and by way of his robust emotions for Patricia, a sharp-witted, sweet-natured black lady. in the meantime, on a daily basis, and each false impression among the white neighborhood and the Sicilians, carry Calogero and his kinfolk in the direction of a terrifying, violent confrontation.
In this affecting and unforgettable novel, Donna Jo Napoli's encouraged learn and spare, attractive language take the vintage immigrant tale to new degrees of emotion and searing fact. Alligator Bayou tells a narrative that each one american citizens may still be aware of.
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Additional resources for Alligator Bayou
You don’t show your face hereabouts except on Sundays. You’re acting like someone done something to you. ” “My mamma didn’t raise no idiots. ” One side of his mouth turns down. ” “I just need to talk to Frank Raymond, sir. ” “Quick, huh? Mr. ” My cheeks go slack. Blander smiles and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Just pulling your leg, boy. He’s in that there saloon across the road. Stay here and mind the shop while I fetch him. Right here. Not inside—just in the doorway. ” “Yes, sir. ” Blander crosses the street into the saloon.
But I can’t ask. We walk south along the edge of Brushy Bayou, out of town. A startled bird flies up from the brush. ” Patricia blows through closed lips, making a blubbery sound. ” I shrug. I don’t like hunting. I don’t have good aim. ” Patricia turns her head sharply, tossing a braid. “They’s lots more turkey if you go north. ” I shake my head. “I only been south. ” “A week in New Orleans,” she breathes, impressed. Guilt prickles my cheeks. “Well, actually, the steamship docked on Tuesday, the twenty-fifth of October 1898…” I love that date.
I can’t tell if it’s real. Tallulah ladies smile even when they’re ordering you to get off their property. But, at least, it’s clear nothing bad has happened between Willy Rogers and Francesco. Yet. I take off my hat. ” She points. Rosario throws a giant handful on a sheet of newsprint. He lifts his eyebrows at Mrs. Rogers, asking if it’s enough. She doesn’t look at him. ” I ask. “Double that. And okra. ” Rosario is already filling the order. Mrs. Rogers watches with sharp eyes as the okra pods pile up.
Alligator Bayou by Donna Jo Napoli