“Bud, Not Buddy,” by Christopher Paul Curtis, reviewed by Village School alum Maggie Walton
I read “Bud, Not Buddy” for the first time in fifth grade. I didn’t know what being ‘on the lam’ meant, but I was happy just to be accompanying Bud (emphatically, not Buddy) Caldwell, a 10-year-old boy, on a journey to find his father in Grand Rapids, Michigan in the late 1930s.
One of the most compelling elements to me then, and even more so now, was the setting — of Depression-era Michigan. Bud’s relentless trek across the state mimics that of so many around him, in endless movement to find work in scarce supply. Bud encounters several consequences of the economic landscape, from spending a night in one of the country’s many ‘hoovervilles’ (shanty towns that sprang into existence under the presidency of Herbert Hoover) to meeting a labor organizer on the road.
Bud is Black, and this informs his story at every turn. Christopher Paul Curtis doesn’t skirt around difficult topics, and Bud encounters racism, discrimination and abuse — at one point, narrowly avoiding the territory of a ‘sundown town.’ Despite the journey made more treacherous by the color of his skin, Bud finds countless allies in the people around him, ever so optimistic that his father (and with him, a home) will be around the next turn.
The book manages to feel rollicking and hopeful. Bud experiences life with trademark enthusiasm and imagination, making him an endlessly endearing narrator that readers will immediately be drawn to.
It’s funny, too! At one point, Bud describes the unease that comes with a loose tooth — “Unless you’re as stupid as a lamppost you’ve got to wonder what’s coming off next, your arm? Your leg? Your neck? Every morning when you wake up it seems a lot of your parts aren’t stuck on as good as they used to be.”
His hopeful voice is one I still carry with me. Bud’s descriptions of the world around him have sticking power — re-reading it, so much felt familiar. To this day, whenever I see a Ticonderoga pencil I can picture it inching up the nose of a sleeping Bud Caldwell.
Curtis does a wonderful job not only of creating a realistic and vibrant character in Bud, but also of capturing an era — and a perspective we don’t often hear from. Bud Caldwell is well worth getting to know.
Ten to 14-year-olds will find this book engaging and hard to put down.