By Donna Jo Napoli
An unforgettable novel, in keeping 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; so much 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 by means of the risk of dead night gator hunts within the bayou and by means of his strong emotions for Patricia, a sharp-witted, sweet-natured black lady. in the meantime, each day, and each false impression among the white group and the Sicilians, convey Calogero and his family members in the direction of a terrifying, violent confrontation.
In this affecting and unforgettable novel, Donna Jo Napoli's encouraged examine and spare, appealing language take the vintage immigrant tale to new degrees of emotion and searing fact. Alligator Bayou tells a narrative that each one americans may still comprehend.
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Extra resources for Alligator Bayou
I’ll be working, and there she is, in my mind, looking over my shoulder, saying something sweet. I miss hearing Sicilian in the streets—jokes, arguments, announcements, everything that makes up life. Here the six of us are like mice on a raft in the middle of the sea. Oh, there are two more Sicilians in Milliken’s Bend, five miles away—Beppe and his son, Salvatore. To find more, though, you have to travel down south to New Orleans, over 250 miles. Thousands live there. I watch Cirone’s shadow move farther ahead of me, out of whisper range.
I’ve never heard her name. Mrs. Rogers drops coins into Rosario’s hand, careful not to touch him. At least a penny short. Rosario puts a finger on each coin in turn, then looks pointedly at her. She adds another penny. And, finally, another. I work to hold in a smile; Rosario doesn’t need words to run this stand. The women turn to go. “Thank you, Mrs. Rogers,” I call. ” Mrs. Rogers looks over her shoulder and blinks. ” Everybody knows Mrs. Rogers. And she knows that, of course. I bob my head. ” The corners of her mouth twitch.
Francesco lifts an upturned hand. ” Joe shakes his head. ” He rubs his chin, then pulls on his fingers. “He say it again: back and forth, back and forth. And he say it worse at his residence, because of his fine wood porch and all. They clatter on the wood. He can’t sleep. ” “Yes, sir. ” Francesco’s mouth twists. “Now? ” Joe’s voice has a certain ring. I know he means that everyone did. That’s how it is in America. And even we would have eaten by now if Francesco hadn’t come home so late. “Goat go where goat go.