So I teach tenth graders. “Core” tenth graders, which is what they call the regular kids. In some circles, it’s an insult. Like, “Oh my God, you have to teach core?” with the same expression you would use to say, “Oh my God, she gave you chlamydia?” But for me, it’s the group of kids that I can relate to the most. After all, I was a core kid, and I love teaching kids like me.
Anyway, the reason this is important is because most of these kids don’t do a lot of recreational reading. And when they do, it’s more Lois Duncan than Marcel Proust. I don’t mind, actually, because there’s a lot to be said about Holes and Killing Mr. Griffin and the Twilight series. When I was a kid, there really weren’t many of these young-adult books to choose from (in fact, they hadn’t even invented the term “YA” yet), unless you were into Judy Bloom. (And oh, all the times I’ve read that tattered copy of Forever.)
Anyway, I’ve been trying to stay current with my YA reading when I stumbled upon Cloaked by Alex Flinn. It’s no Harry Potter, but what is? Instead, it’s an interesting stew of various well-known and little-known fairy tales, like “The Frog Prince,” “The Fisherman and His Wife,” “The Valiant Tailor,” and “The Six Swans.” It’s fantasy in a real-world setting.
And the reason I stumbled upon this book in the first place? It’s set in Miami, with jaunts (via magical cloak, of course) to Key Largo and Key Biscayne.
I admit I have a love/hate relationship with Miami. As a kid, I loved it. Arriving in Miami meant an end to all that slow-moving traffic on Interstate 95 through insignificant communities like Boca Raton and Hollywood. It was the gateway to the Florida Keys, and it contained its own charms as well, like Monkey Jungle, Coral Castle, and the now-shuttered Planet Ocean. Later, when I was old enough to explore the world on my own, I discovered Miami Beach, later known as South Miami Beach, later known as SoBe. (I’ll update the blog when the name changes again.) That’s when I first fell in love with art deco, and SoBe has plenty of it. Anytime I see art deco architecture, I’m immediately whisked away to those memories of Miami Beach, even if those memories include sharing the bunk beds of a warm-moist hostel with overly loud Australians on holiday.
When I was working at Disney in the early 1990s, I remember reading daily updates about Miami in the Orlando Sentinel. It was, apparently, turning into a war zone. Tourists were being robbed and murdered daily. Miami was a black eye on the entire state, and the tourism industry nearly dried up. The bureaucrats, however, eventually responded, first by eliminating the K-Car designation (for years, all rental cars had license plates that began with a “K,” making it pretty easy to pick out the tourists), and later by putting up giant smiling sunshine faces on the interstate exit signs where tourists were less likely to be assassinated. (They also re-routed some of the routes to/from the airport to avoid sketchy areas.)
To this day, I still fear Miami as it was in the early 1990s. But reading Cloaked has me eager to go back, and if I can find a way to include a ride through SoBe, I’ll do it. I know the Overseas Heritage Trail has beefed up the bicycle-friendly southern approach to the town, and there seems to be a pretty good network of bike lanes. I even think one of the Adventure Cycle routes goes through Miami Beach. I want to be a part of the world that exits in this novel, where grand art deco hotels like the Coral Reef Grand line the strip, and the hotels have shops in them like portrayed in the novel, shoe repair shops, because this is a world where shoes are repaired rather than tossed aside and replaced. Rum-dipped Cuban cigars (okay, you’re in my fantasy now, not in the book) are enjoyed on a veranda overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, with smells from the Cuban cafe wafting through the air and the sounds of smoothly spoken Spanish lurk in the distance.
South Beach
The Rest of Miami
In many ways, I could relate to Johnny in the book. This little gem had me laughing out loud:
“Mom and I spent most of our vacations camping in Key Largo because that’s as far as we can afford to go. We always drive south on U.S. 1 with its endless fast-food joints, strip malls, and gas stations. After an hour we reach the road with blue water on both sides.”
I can relate. Besides the family trips to Key Largo, I remember one spring break where a college buddy and I were trailing my love interest south. We knew she was staying at her dad’s company’s condo in Key West, but we made it as far as the seven-mile bridge and realized we were running low on gas money and patience. Mainly patience. We spent the week in Key Largo and never made it the extra two hours to Key West.
I’ll see you again, Miami. I promise.
biciclettalento 