But not everything happened exactly as I tell it here. I needed to let my imagination soar. There are things I wish had occurred in the fairy-tale way I tell them in this book. My bed was never turned around, and I yearned desperately to look out a window that year I was in bed.
Yes, I was in the dumb class. And yes, we had just arrived in New York as refugees from Cuba when the car accident took place. We were scared. We didn’t have money. We didn’t speak English. We didn’t know if they’d ship us back to Cuba. And if we had to flee again suddenly, what would become of me? I was immobile, a girl confined to her bed.
I seemed to take forever to rise up and walk. When finally I could walk, I seemed to take forever to stop limping. Healing is a journey and it takes its own sweet time. What a gift it is to get a second chance at life when the worst is past.
Throughout this ordeal, many good people tried to help me. I know I exasperated my family, but they loved me and watched over me as best they could. Most of the responsibility for my care fell on my mother’s shoulders. I understand now what a burden that must have been for her. I had a loyal friend, Dinah, on whom Danielle is modeled, who really was from Belgium and introduced me to cream puffs. I remain grateful to my New York public school for sending a teacher to the house so I would not fall behind, an intense learning experience that made me a reader for life, and a writer. And Dr. Friendlich was a doctor who cared. While writing this book, I wanted to send him a personal thank-you for all he did for me, but I learned he had passed. I used his real name to honor him in this story.
Ruthie continues to live in me, the grown-up Ruth. You might not believe me when I say this, because I became a woman who is always traveling, a restless woman who lives with a suitcase by the door. But every now and then, if I fall ill with a fever or if I am hurt by someone’s cruel words, if I feel weak and defenseless because the world feels too big for me, I become small again, and I crawl into my bed. And then, I have to tell you the truth: It’s very hard, very, very, very hard for me to get up again. I become the girl in the cast, the girl in the white plaster cast. But I know that if the broken girl is cared for, she will stop being afraid. So I am patient when Ruthie reemerges, when she comes back to say hello. I lie there quietly listening to her fears, her sorrows. Then I tell her good-bye, muster my strength, rise and open the door and let the sunshine in. I become the grown-up Ruth and return to the world, no longer feeling so small. I step out, legs trembling a little but my heart full, and set forth on the next journey, entrusting myself to the beauty and danger of life all over again.
Acknowledgments
My first novel is a novel for children, and this is how it needed to be. As an immigrant child and a wounded child, I was forced to grow up quickly. I didn’t get a chance to be a young girl for as long as I wanted. Writing this book gave me permission to return to my youth and reexperience that time, and even better, it has allowed me to make my childhood a bit happier than it really was.
I would never have gotten to this point if not for the kindness and generosity of those who believed in Lucky Broken Girl and urged me to give it my all.
My agent, Alyssa Eisner Henkin, believed in Lucky Broken Girl from the start, and her unwavering faith in the story and in my abilities gave me the confidence I needed to write from the heart. I am deeply grateful to have had Alyssa as my guide into the world of children’s literature. It was a real thrill when Nancy Paulsen chose Lucky Broken Girl for her imprint. I love all her books and dreamed of working with her. Nancy read my work with compassion, as if it were her story too, and her suggestions helped make this book a thousand times stronger. Thank you both so much.
I also wish to thank Joyce Sweeney for a manuscript critique that gave me important tools for plotting the story. Thanks to Sara LaFleur and the team at Penguin Random House. And thanks to Penelope Dullaghan for the gorgeous cover.
My husband, David, read several versions and always said they were wonderful, providing the unconditional support I think I don’t need but know I do. And my son, Gabriel, who had to confront a leg injury of his own when he was growing up, read the book at the beginning and at the end and gave me his blessing, which I am so glad for. Thank you, David, and thank you, Gabriel; you have my love always.
Last but not least, there is a girl named Arianna who read an early draft and gave me very thoughtful comments. She was nine then and already a serious reader. Arianna told me she liked the story, but it needed a few touches here and there for it to become a book. She was right, and the book grew as a result. As I wrote and rewrote, I never lost hope. I knew there had to be other young readers like Arianna who read to live and live to read, assuring me that reading is one of our greatest human treasures, to be passed on from generation to generation, so the world might be a better place for everyone.
About the Author
Ruth Behar was born in Havana, Cuba, grew up in New York, and has also lived in Spain and Mexico. The first Latina to win a MacArthur “Genius Grant,” she is the Victor Haim Perera Collegiate Professor of Anthropology at the University of Michigan and received an honorary doctorate in Humane Letters from the Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion. She has given lectures, talks, and readings at universities, cultural centers, book fairs, and bookstores, and she has been invited to speak about her writing in Spain, Israel, Japan, Italy, Ireland, New Zealand, Belgium, Mexico, Argentina, and Cuba.
As a cultural anthropologist, Ruth brings her heart into all her writing. Her notion of “the vulnerable observer” is one of the most referenced ideas in contemporary social thought. But she has always been a creative writer first and foremost, looking for ways to share ideas about cultural diversity and the search for home, inviting others to share the journey into the heart of the human experience.
Ruth is the editor of the pioneering anthology Bridges to Cuba/Puentes a Cuba, which brings together stories and poems by Cubans on and off the island. She is coeditor of Women Writing Culture, which has become a crucial resource on women’s literary contributions to anthropology. Her personal documentary, Adio Kerida/Goodbye Dear Love: A Cuban Sephardic Journey, distributed by Women Make Movies, has been shown in festivals around the world.
Ruth’s poetry is included in The Whole Island: Six Decades of Cuban Poetry and The Norton Anthology of Latino Literature, among other major collections. Her short story �
��La cortada” is included in the anthology Telling Stories: An Anthology for Writers, edited by Joyce Carol Oates. And, together with poet Richard Blanco, she has launched a blog, www.bridgestocuba.com, to create a forum for Cuban stories that engage the heart as the island moves into a new era of its history.
Visit Ruth at www.ruthbehar.com.
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