Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

This book is part of our somewhat random and unsystematic project of reading or listening to Newbery Award winners and finalists. Bud, Not Buddy was the winner in 2000. This book was also part of my goal that my children experience books by authors of color. I believe it is crucial to moral development to hear a variety of voices - particularly those who have historically (and too often in the present) been marginalized.

Bud, Not Buddy tells the story of an orphan boy, Bud (not Buddy - that is important) living in the Great Depression. After his mother dies when he is age 6, he bounces around between an orphanage and various foster homes. After one final disastrous experience in a foster home where he is tormented by the son and disbelieved by the parents, he runs away, and strikes out to find the man he believes is his father: the famous touring musician Herman E. Calloway. After trying to locate his favorite librarian (who has married and moved far away), he finds the local Hooverville, fails at jumping a train, then attempts to walk 200 miles to Grand Rapids. He is picked up by Lefty Lewis, a “red cap” who is out making an emergency delivery of blood to the hospital. Lewis assists him in finding Calloway, after which Bud discovers the truth of his family history.

That’s a pretty vague summary, and intentionally so. There are some fun twists along the way, which I didn’t want to completely spoil.

However, I do want to mention a few things about the book. First, just like I mentioned in my review of How To Create The Perfect Wife, in times of economic stress, the number of abandoned children skyrockets. During the Depression, parents literally had to choose which of their children to watch starve to death. So many did the “compassionate” thing and dropped a child or two at an orphanage, with the hope that they would at least survive, even if they never saw each other again. Pregnancy could literally mean death for someone when there is insufficient food. Bud notes this - he was literally orphaned, before the Depression, so he sees the rapid influx. As in other times past, this led to a push to place children with families, as this was cheaper than building more orphanages. Families might take on a foster child for the money. It wasn’t much, but it was steadier than employment at the time. This led to some unpleasant situations, as Bud experiences.

Bud has clearly lived a hard life for the last few years. One of the central recurring elements in the book is the collection of wisdom that Bud intends to publish some day: Bud Caldwell’s Rules and Things for Having A Funner Life and Making a Better Liar Out of Yourself.

These little aphorisms are sprinkled throughout the book, and every kid - or former kid - knows just how true they are. How to know when bad things are going to happen from stuff adults say - many have this theme. Others have to do with street smarts, common sense, and above all, the difficulties of navigating human relationships when you are relatively powerless and a mere child. The author shows deep perception of human culture and society in writing these. I’d almost say they were the best part of the book. Almost.

Before I mention the best part, there are a few other things that struck me. The description of the “Hooverville” was outstanding. In our own time, Hoovervilles are proliferating (Los Angeles is believed to have between 50,000 and 100,000 homeless), although low wages and high housing costs are driving the increase this time, rather than catastrophic unemployment. (With an assist from untreated mental illness and addiction - although those are a constant, not a new problem.) During the Depression, these sprang up all over as well. People do what they can to stay alive. What was particularly interesting in this book was the way that people worked together in the encampment. For the most part, everyone pitched in, shared, and formed, well, a society. Which is what humans do, in pretty much every situation. It is our one trait that has enabled us to survive and thrive where most primates struggle.

But not always. One of the most haunting scenes in the book is of the one family which refuses to join the rest of the group. They are not thriving, and the baby is dying of starvation and illness. They lack the things that the rest of the group has, and would clearly benefit from sharing with others. But they refuse. Why?

Because they are white and racist - they won’t contaminate themselves by sharing with “negroes.”

The author is correct about this, by the way. At the very bottom of society, racial prejudice is a luxury that most can’t afford. And during the Depression, there was a lot more racial cooperation in the Hoovervilles than many realize. (For what it’s worth, Doctor Who had a great portrayal of this in “Daleks in Manhattan.”) I love that Curtis isn’t heavy handed about this. He just shows a hurting family that would benefit if they would just swallow their pride and racism long enough to be helped.

I also love that the author found ways of showing basic human decency among many of the characters. There is the family (I forget the name) who lies and says that Bud is their son, so that he can share a meal at the soup kitchen, even though he is late. There is the white librarian who helps Bud research stuff, smuggles him some food, and shows the sort of compassion that is all too rare. There is Lefty Lewis, who, along with his sister, takes care of Bud during Bud’s darkest hour. They are realistic, memorable, and inspiring characters. Curtis has a knack for writing characters and dialogue; it was sad when Lewis left the story for good as the narrative moved on.

As a musician, I also found the description of the band to be fascinating. Calloway is a bit of an archetype: the jazz musician who got his start in the Harlem Renaissance, and managed to make a decent living even in the depths of the Depression. As with many bands of the era, the fictional “Herman E. Calloway and the Dusky Devastators of the Depression” had one white member so as to escape some of the restrictions of Jim Crow. The white member would make the arrangements - and the musicianship of the band would smooth over the hurt feelings. It’s also a reminder that one of the first and most important breaches of the Jim Crow barriers came through music. Art recognizes art, and artists have always been the consciences of humanity. While I give due credit to the integration of the military, the Civil Rights Movement (and the laws that resulted), and the many decent people who fought segregation, I believe music played a crucial role in bringing about the end of Jim Crow.

Let me end with the best part of the book. Whether you read or listen, be sure to include the afterword by the author, which is fantastic.

The story itself is purely fictional, although it is certainly historical fiction. However, there are two characters who are based significantly on real people. Curtis based Lefty Lewis and Herman Calloway on his own grandfathers - who were indeed a Redcap (and Negro League pitcher) and a musician, respectively,  during the depression. The personalities are drawn from those men, not just their professions. Also, the name of the band - which is pretty awesome. Curtis laments that he was too young and stupid to take time to listen to the old stories these two men told - now, he would have written as much down as he could. But he nevertheless did remember some, and he incorporated what he remembered into the story.

In my opinion, this is the best part. No wonder these two men seemed so real. They, in many ways were real, even though the story is fiction. I thought this was a worthy book, with good writing and characters, and a compelling story. It is yet another example of the rather excellent children’s literature published in the last 20 years.

***

The late James Avery narrated the audiobook. Solid job, well suited to the book.