Tracy Mack and Pam Muñoz Ryan.
Photo courtesy of Pam Muñoz Ryan.

“When there’s room in the heart, there’s room in the house,” Rosa Maria proclaims in Pam Muñoz Ryan’s picture book Mice and Beans, illustrated by Joe Cepeda. Much like this lovable character, Pam makes space for all the people and passions she holds most dear, and they all influence her work as a writer. She lives a big life, and it’s one of the things I have always admired most about her. Our creative partnership over nearly thirty years — and the eighteen bookmaking journeys we have taken together — have enriched and enlarged my own life.

Pam has a big family, to whom she is deeply devoted. She is a big traveler, having globetrotted through myriad countries and taking each of her four children and six grandchildren on trips of their choosing when they reach a certain age.

She is a big researcher, devouring books, movies, plays, exhibits, articles, and firsthand experiences in the ­wilderness or far-flung cities so she can inhabit her characters and bring them faithfully alive on the page. She visited Oaxaca, Mexico (with me!), to see Noche de Rábanos (Night of the Radishes) for Becoming Naomi León; traversed the Wyoming backcountry on horseback for Paint the Wind; explored Temuco, Chile, for The Dreamer; and toured the Hohner harmonica factory in Trossingen, ­Germany, for Echo.

She is of course a big reader, with wide but discriminating taste, soaking in stories of diverse genres as a true writer must.

She is a big rewriter, drafting and revising limitless times until her plot and prose are as smooth as ocean-washed stones.

She is a big groundbreaker. Book after book, she challenges herself to create new storytelling forms and plays with literary conventions. She was one of the first Latine children’s book writers to lovingly shine a light on her ­Mexican culture, forging a path for the next generation.

She has a big career, having received countless awards and honors — Newbery, Pura Belpré, Sibert, ­Schneider, Kirkus, PEN America, BGHB, National Education Association Human and Civil Rights, and perhaps most special of all, the Children’s Literature Legacy Award for her body of work — but you could never tell from her graciousness and humility. True to Pam’s pioneering spirit, this recognition that might signal to some the sunset of her career is a sunrise instead, a springboard to ­deepened creativity and expansion. Never has that been more evident than in her forthcoming novel El Niño, which I can’t wait for you to read.

She is big-hearted, as anyone who knows her or has read even a chapter of her novels feels on a cellular level. She has spoken to hundreds of ­thousands of children, teachers, librarians, ­writers, and booksellers in all fifty states and around the world. She personally answers every fan letter or email she receives. She generously shares recipes, shoe-shopping advice, and parenting wisdom, and has a related story at the ready to commiserate in nearly any situation.

She sees the big picture: books are small treasures to be lived and nurtured into being, each one deserving of that same affection and focused attention she bestows on her family. As with her children and grandchildren, she allows them space to blossom in their own time. She and I have both learned to heed Papa’s wisdom in ­Esperanza ­Rising, “Aguántate tantito y la fruta caerá en su mano…Wait a little while and the fruit will fall into your hand.”

Perhaps that’s why each time Pam gifts a new story to the world, it feels like a big event.

* * *

I first encountered Pam’s work through a picture book manuscript entitled Zig Zag Rows, sent to me by her agent, Kendra Marcus at BookStop Literary. I was a young editor at the time, so young it came through the mail in a manila envelope. The story — about a Mexican American farm-laboring ­family, the crooked crops they tended, and a crocheted blanket — enveloped me with its lyrical prose and vivid imagery. But it felt bigger, older, with more layers than could be sufficiently unearthed in a picture book. I wrote to Kendra and asked to see more from this promising writer.

I soon received another picture book text, titled One-Eyed Charley, about legendary stagecoach driver Charlotte Parkhurst, who lived her life as a man and after death became known as the first woman registered to vote in the state of California. Again, the story felt rich and layered and too big to be contained in thirty-two pages. But this time I was inspired to ask Kendra if Pam would consider expanding the story into a novel. Though Pam had never before attempted one, she took a leap of faith and swiftly said yes.

This moment not only marked the beginning point of our partnership, but also set the tone for how we would work together: endless discussion via phone calls and letters (we were not yet using email), deep trust in each other’s instincts (the kind of trust you feel with your most treasured relative), and faith that the road would always lead us where the story needed to go. A union that began as love at first sight quickly deepened into a long, devoted marriage.

One-Eyed Charley became Riding ­Freedom, exquisitely illustrated by a young Brian Selznick. I was delighted to dig up the first editorial letter I wrote to Pam, dated November 30, 1995. It was eleven pages long — single-spaced — daunting to a first-time novelist, to be sure! But much to Pam’s credit, she channeled her energy into getting right to work and crafted multiple revisions until the story “move[d] along at a gallop,” as Publishers Weekly raved in her very first starred review. In addition to winning awards, the book also stood out because it challenged gender stereotypes and celebrated gender nonconformity long before those topics were being more openly explored in children’s literature.

We had such a wonderful time working on Riding Freedom that once I learned more about the origins of Zig Zag Rows, I felt emboldened to ask Pam to expand that story into a novel as well. You may have guessed that it ultimately became Pam’s most defining work, Esperanza Rising, inspired by her grandmother’s journey from Mexico to the United States during the Great Depression. In the almost twenty-five years since, it has become a modern classic embedded in curricula across the country and treasured by generations of readers. It is as relevant today as when it was first published and resonates with new meaning.

We are now working on the graphic novel edition illustrated by Andrés Vera Martínez. As I reread the book and script, I am struck once again by Pam’s balance in presenting complex social and political ideas. She never burdens her stories with agenda. Rather, with uncommon depth, nuance, and ­compassion, she shows multiple viewpoints and lets her readers grapple with their own opinions and understanding. She helps them see that more than one thing can be true simultaneously. This is part of what makes her books so special and enduring: they respect the intelligence of their audience; make them feel held, valued, and broadened; and provide intellectual and emotional steadiness — something we need more than ever in our increasingly ­polarized society. That she can do this over and over again in each of her books demonstrates a boundless imagination, a voluminous heart, an unwavering ­commitment to children, and a steadfast belief in their capacity.

* * *

Three of the next five novels that followed Esperanza Rising — Becoming Naomi León; The Dreamer, illustrated by Peter Sís; and Mañanaland — also began as picture books. I have ­wondered if that says something about Pam’s intrinsic modesty. Perhaps she doesn’t see from the outset her stories’ potential expansiveness or her own capacity. She never begins with lofty goals. She simply wants to tell a good story and compel readers to turn the page.

Even her Newbery Honor Book Echo, which spans two centuries, two continents, and four historical time periods, began as a simple idea: a single harmonica that travels to four children and changes their lives. That it spawned a 585-page tour de force exemplifies Pam’s genius. Who else could organically create distinct characters, in distinct times and places, inhabiting distinct, standalone stories that converge to create a harmonious whole? She is like a ­conductor orchestrating winds and strings, percussion and brass into a seamless symphony. She has infused some of the darkest periods in our ­history with an indomitable sense of hope, which characterizes her work above all else. As the prophecy in Echo assures us, “Your fate is not yet sealed. / Even in the darkest night, a star will shine, / a bell will chime, a path will be revealed.”

Pam’s tireless faith in the possibility of light and healing has been an abiding comfort and inspiration to readers all over the world. Though Pam could not have known it at the time when she crafted the transcendent final words of The Dreamer, they express best of all her unique gifts: “The books traveled over fences…and bridges…and across borders…soaring from continent to continent…until [she] had passed thousands of gifts through a hole in the fence to a multitude of people in every corner of the world…their wings beating with the same pulse, their hearts eager to feel all that [she] could dream.”

From the July/August 2024 issue of The Horn Book Magazine: Special Issue: ALA Awards. For more speeches, profiles, and articles, click the tag ALA 2024.

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