Alligator Bayou   by Donna Jo Napoli

By Donna Jo Napoli

An unforgettable  novel, in accordance with a real tale, approximately racism opposed to Italian american citizens 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 family members is stuck in the midst of tensions among the black and white groups. As Calogero struggles to conform to Tallulah, he's startled and delighted by way of 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 group and the Sicilians, carry Calogero and his relations towards 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 should still understand.

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Extra info for Alligator Bayou  

Sample text

You bring message. You done. ” Francesco turns. “Carlo …” Carlo’s already standing beside Francesco with a pile of okra. He wraps it in newsprint and hands it to Joe. ” Francesco gives a nod. Joe holds the bundle to his chest and hesitates. “And they’s a second message. The doctor say he wants to talk to you tomorrow morning. ” “No, sir. ” Francesco shakes his head. ” “Willy Rogers, he want see you and me we no get nothing for our work, no money, no matter how hard we work. He want see us poor, like dirt, and never change.

Still, a real school is something else. With a real teacher. And Patricia. “I think I’ll come to school with you tomorrow. ” “Go ahead. ” Patricia lifts her nose. “What do you mean? ” “We get out for the summer at the end of the day on Saturday. Besides, I’m graduating lower school. And I don’t guess I’ll be going to upper school come September. I’ll get my working papers. I’m the right age now. ” A boy a head taller than Patricia approaches. Two boys follow; they block our path. ” “Like every Wednesday.

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.

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