86 pages • 2 hours read
Elizabeth AcevedoA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more. For select classroom titles, we also provide Teaching Guides with discussion and quiz questions to prompt student engagement.
In the second collection of poems from Yahaira’s perspective, Yahaira recounts her relationship with chess. Yahaira’s father taught her to play chess, showing her the functions of each piece when she was only three years old, so that she had mastered the game enough to beat her father by the time she was four. Yahaira credits her proficiency at chess to her ability to intuit the “rhythm of the / game [...] it’s all just / steps & patterns” (90). In retrospect, although she enjoyed winning, she never loved chess: “I did chess. I was obsessed with winning. / But never love” (93). Despite her incredible talent, Yahaira no longer plays chess, having quit after she was molested on a crowded train after a chess tournament. Yahaira’s rift with her father comes after she cannot reach him by phone following her attack. On the day after Yahaira’s attack, she finds her father’s marriage certificate to Camino’s mother. When she does hear from her father again, Papi calls her in anger after finding an email disqualifying her from a prestigious chess tournament. When she refuses to play again, Papi tells Yahaira that she has broken his heart. In her interior monologue, Yahaira expresses her lingering sorrow for the disillusionment she suffered: “I never told him he’d broken mine” (82).
The revelation of Papi’s second wife is immediately followed by the story of how Mami and Papi met in Puerto Plata. Papi likens Mami’s fair skin to the white pieces of a chess set: “looked fina, / like a porcelain chess piece to be captured” (58). Yahaira describes her own skin tone, saying that she took after Papi’s dark complexion: “his bella negra” (60).
Three days later, as rescue efforts produce no survivors from the flight wreckage, Yahaira ignores the various phone calls of support and commiseration, including Dre’s. Dre and Yahaira have been a couple since the seventh grade, and although Papi never knew they were together, Mami has supported them, giving Yahaira money to buy Dre a Valentine’s Day gift. Eventually Dre comes in through the fire escape they have shared since they were 12. The loss of Papi is a loss for Dre, too.
Close to the sections’ end, Yahaira describes her sudden urge on the night of Papi’s flight to ask him not to go. Yahaira does not believe in magic the way her parents do, but she feels a nagging sense that she should stop him from leaving when Papi comes to her room to say goodbye. Yahaira resists her impulse to ask him to stay. Papi says that he hopes they can mend the rift that has grown between them since she quit chess. It is the last time she sees her father alive.
The next day, Yahaira is watching a news report on the rescue efforts for the plane wreckage, hoping to learn of previously unreported survivors: “I wait for news that the passengers / got their life jackets on. / [...] That the Coast Guard found someone / breathing” (88). Yahaira urges her mother to attend a small vigil at the shore closest to where her father’s plane went down. Her mother refuses, wordlessly retreating to her room to continue her mourning.
Yahaira self-identifies as Dominican, but she has never been to the Dominican Republic. Spanish is her first language, and she has been raised in-step with her parents’ island culture, but she pines for a day when she might know her heritage more intimately than she does now. Since she was five, her mother has vowed never to allow Yahaira to set foot on the island. Although she had always asked to accompany her father on his business trips, since discovering Papi’s second marriage certificate, she has not asked. For these reasons, Yahaira wonders if it isn’t too late to claim a link to the island: “Can you claim a home that does not / know you” (97).
Upon watching the same news reports counting no survivors in the wreckage of Papi’s plane, Tía Solana hugs Camino. Tía Solana leads a prayer ceremony with the neighbors who have arrived to share in their grief. They pray along the rosary in a special pattern of prayer meant to show penitence and devotion: “Fifty Ave Marias, five Padre Nuestros, / five Gloria al Padres” (100). Later, Tía Solana prays in private for guidance.
In the version Camino knows of her father and mother’s first meeting, Papi meant to introduce himself to Camino’s mother, Mamá, except that her school friend, Yahaira’s mother, intercepted his introduction. In this account Papi is chivalrous but only has eyes for Camino’s mother: “Papi gave Mamá a […] secret wink” (102). Camino recalls the way dengue took Mamá suddenly. Bedridden with fever, she tells Camino and Don Mateo that they are overreacting as they try to get her to a hospital. When she dies two days later, Camino is left in the care of her mother’s sister, Tía Solana. Between Tía Solana and her father’s summer visits to the island, Camino has been spared the sting of being truly orphaned. Now, in the fallout of Papi’s death, Camino faces the uncertainty of a future without any parents at all.
Ten days after the crash, having missed payments on her tuition, Camino meets with a guidance counselor who tells her that she has missed filing deadlines for scholarships she needs to finish at the international school she attends with affluent Dominicans. The counselor assures Camino that the school will work with her in future semesters to complete her credits, but Camino’s graduation could be delayed. This would also delay Camino’s planned escape from Sosúa.
When Carline returns to Camino’s house to check on her, Carline is visibly exhausted and falls asleep. On her next day off, Carline takes Camino on a short outing to the beach. Although it is a good day, both women eventually fall silent, and Camino imagines they are wordlessly sharing their uncertainty for the future. Together Carline and Camino quietly reject the dreams of their childhood to accept the stark realities that come with their precarious circumstances.
Two weeks after the crash, Yahaira has been skipping school, unwilling to go on pretending at normalcy. Instead, she spends her time in Dre’s apartment with the Johnsons. When Yahaira expresses her appreciation to Dre’s mother for all the support over the years, Dr. Johnson simply pats her and tells Yahaira to let herself mourn: “you can’t run from what hurts you” (123).
Like Yahaira, Mami has avoided leaving the apartment since the plane crash, and her boss has left a voicemail about her absence from the salon where she works. Yahaira gathers a work outfit for Mami, who leaves reluctantly. When Mami returns, they attend grief counseling: a forum hosted by the neighborhood association where Yahaira and Mami sit and listen while other families affected by the crash share their stories of mourning. When Mami speaks, she says every morning is like losing Papi again. Yahaira feels her anger toward Papi reawakened, wondering if Mami knows of Papi’s second marriage or if she is the sole keeper of Papi’s secret. When it is her turn to speak, Yahaira is unable to express herself except through a shrug. Exhausted from the evening of emotions, Mami and Yahaira agree not to go back to grief counseling.
When Papi’s gold tooth is identified in the wreckage the next day, Yahaira’s extended family of cousins, aunts, and uncles arrive to mourn. Tío Jorge is Papi’s brother; his wife, Tía Mabel, immediately begins funeral arrangements, calling relatives in the Dominican Republic and even putting in a call to the local newspaper regarding an obituary. On impulse, Yahaira rises from her seat and plays one of her father’s records, a breakup song: “It’s about lost / love,” (136). Before the song is over, Mami stops the record. By playing the record, Yahaira has gone against Mami’s strong convictions that the grieving process is meant to be a sober event: “music is inappropriate for mourning” (137).
When the conversation turns to whether Papi will be buried in the United States or in the Dominican Republic, Mami is quick to argue that his family is here. Tío Jorge, a lawyer in the Dominican Republic, produces Papi’s will. Papi’s wishes were to be buried in the Dominican Republic. Mami maintains that if he is buried there, she and Yahaira will not see his burial. Yahaira immediately interjects that she wants to be in attendance, reasoning that her father would want his daughter present when he was laid to rest. Although Mami forbids it, Yahaira has already made up her mind.
At Camino’s beachfront 19 days after the crash, El Cero grabs Camino’s wrist while she is coming out of the water and offers her a ride home on his motorbike. Camino tells El Cero that she will give him nothing, to which El Cero replies that she already owes more than she knows. Over the phone, Tía tells her that they have found definitive proof of Papi’s death and that his body will be brought back to Sosúa. Camino returns home and finds Tía Solana has lit candles, in deep mourning for Papi.
The next morning, Tía Solana defeathers a chicken while she recounts the rumors that have been swirling about El Cero and Camino. Camino realizes that Tía Solana thinks that she is inviting El Cero’s advances, but she despairs at the thought of what could happen if she tells Tía Solana the truth. She knows that there is no one who could stop El Cero and fears what would happen to Tía Solana if she did try to stop El Cero: “El Cero occupies / a world of men who care little of healers” (157). Although Tía Solana’s voice is level, Camino can detect her by the ferocity of her hands on the chicken: “she plucks in hard snatches” (154).
Later, Camino and Tía Solana dress in opposing black and white to see the priest about Papi’s funeral. Tía Solana had previously disallowed Camino from dressing all in black, but today she does not object to the dress. Tía Solana’s all-white dress is also controversial as it is a statement of her status as a Santera, a worshipper of Santeria, which goes against church doctrine. Although both colors are respectively taboo in their own way, Camino and Tía Solana dress that way in defiance. As they regard each other in the mirror, Camino knows that in this grieving she has crossed a threshold into womanhood.
When Tía Solana shakes her awake, Camino is dreaming that she is in New York searching for her father. She dresses quickly, and they move in darkness along the streets to the house where Carline lives with her boyfriend. The lights have gone out in a blackout coinciding with Carline’s premature labor. Carline reveals that while Carline should go to a hospital, her mother felt the baby was coming too quickly, and she notes that Carline’s Haitian mother would have had a difficult time bringing her daughter to a Dominican hospital. Together, Camino and Tía Solana deliver Carline’s baby, coaching her to breathe and holding her until they are both weary from exertion: “I switch places with Tía, & my arms grow heavy” (166). When the infant finally breaches, it is small and unresponsive, but with Tía Solana’s efforts, the baby takes its first breath and survives. At that same instant, the lights in the barrio come back on. Camino suggests that sometimes Tía Solana can force an outcome of the fates.
At several points, Clap When You Land uses the creative license of poetry to invite the reader to participate more directly with the content of the story. The poem “Four Days After” on page 87 contends with the massive human tragedy of Papi’s plane crash by scattering its brief 25 words across the page. The effect resembles an aerial view of a plane wreck. Not only is the sprawl of words aesthetically striking, but it also creates a layer of difficulty not present in many of the other poems in Clap When You Land. Readers, like the surviving loved ones and family members, are forced to confront the aesthetic qualities of the page beyond just the words themselves.
Although she no longer competes in chess tournaments, Yahaira’s relationship with chess is a centerpiece of the narrative. The game’s rich symbols of a war waged by black and white pieces are presented repeatedly throughout this section and reoccur in connection with other themes and motifs throughout the novel. Thematically, Yahaira’s career as a competitive chess player charts the highs and lows of Yahaira’s relationship with her father. Yahaira admits that she never felt as passionately about chess as her father felt about her winning: “I loved how much / Papi loved to watch me win” (91). It is fitting, then, that Yahaira’s affection for chess ends suddenly, coinciding with her attack and discovery of Papi’s secret wedding certificate and Papi’s ensuing rabid anger at Yahaira for leaving the sport.
Chess also serves as a delivery system of rich images that emphasize the novel’s central theme of impossible dichotomies. Papi compares Mami to an ivory chess piece to be captured upon their first meeting; Camino compares Papi’s machete-cropped fingernail to one of the black pieces he played. When they make plans with a local priest to receive Papi’s body, Camino and Tía Solana’s church dresses are black and white, respectively. The color scheme of a chess board is laced throughout the novel’s poetic images, stamped in the complexion of its heroines. Black and white create a lens through which the characters of Clap When You Land experience the world.
As Carline goes suddenly and prematurely into labor, Camino is thrust into the role of healer in the frantic setting of a blackout. When Camino reasons, “I cannot fault Maman / for being too afraid” (165), she is describing the stigma of a long-standing and tense relationship between Dominican and Haitian peoples. As a result, Carline’s family decides to avoid a Dominican hospital for the delivery of Carline’s baby. In this scene the themes of womanhood, death, and light coalesce dramatically, also serving as a rite of passage for Camino, who only pages before reminisced about the simpler days of their shared childhood together. This scene serves as a bridge, pushing both women firmly into adulthood. When Carline’s baby is finally born, Acevedo sets off the description of the newborn so that the words appear as quiet and small as the child, cascading into the page’s white space. The delivery in the dark serves as a synecdoche for the novel’s gesture of hardship into light. When Tía Solana brings the newborn from the brink, resuscitating him, the blackout ends, and the lights are restored. In Clap When You Land, light is tied to the strength of women.
Across the ocean, Yahaira and her mother gather with family to discuss funeral rites as Yahaira’s central conflict emerges. When Mami refuses to allow Yahaira to accompany Papi’s remains to the Dominican Republic, Yahaira is caught in a liminal boundary. The phrase “Ni acquí ni allá,” neither here nor there, denotes the otherness that Yahaira feels being raised Dominican and yet disallowed from traveling to the island all her life. Yahaira and Camino are both characterized by this constraint, a classic symptom of coming-of-age literature. Not yet a woman, Yahaira finds a resilience to conspire against her mother’s wishes, setting events into motion that will lead to the narrative’s final acts.
By Elizabeth Acevedo