Meet Cathy Camper, author of the picture book, “Ten Ways to Hear Snow”
Interviewed by Diane Cyr
A founding member of the Portland Women of Color zine collective & graduate of VONA/VOICES writing workshops for people of color in Berkeley, California, Cathy Camper is a renowned children’s book author. In addition to writing, Cathy works as a librarian in Portland, Oregon, where she does outreach for students K-12.
Editor’s Note
Nothing out of the ordinary happens in Cathy Camper’s picture book, “Ten Ways to Hear Snow”—which, in a way, makes it extraordinary. On one level, it’s the simple story of a little girl in the Midwest walking through the snow to grandma’s house. On another level, it’s a stereotype buster: The little girl is Arab-American (like Camper herself), the grandma lives in assisted living, and, because grandma is losing her sight, the two experience the snow by listening instead of seeing. With a few deft words, Camper shifts perceptions of Arab culture and aging while gifting readers with a mindful experience of nature. Given all that it offers, “it’s the book we need right now,” says one blogger. Camper’s previous books also broke cultural ground: She wrote the graphic series “Lowriders in Space,” featuring a trio of Latinx heroes (an impala, octopus, and mosquito) who love adventures and working on cars. (The next of the series is out next year.) As an author who lets her mind wander in all the best ways, Camper here shares her thoughts on creativity and breaking barriers.
You knew nothing about Mexican-American culture when you decided to write your Lowriders series. What brought you to that place?
In Portland, I was working as an outreach librarian to schools, and the kids were crazy about lowrider nonfiction books. [Note: Lowriders are customized vintage cars popular with baby-boomer Americans of Mexican descent.] I remember not seeing myself in books when I was a kid, and I was furious that I could see that this need for what kids wanted and there were no books that addressed it. So I started daydreaming in my head about a lowrider series—I had a lot of knowledge about cars and science, and I’ve always seen a lot of overlap between Arab and Latinx cultures. Because I also wrote zines, I collaborated with a Latinx artist [illustrator Raul the Third] who said, “This is the book I wanted to read when I was a kid.” We decided to have a glossary for kids to look up Spanish and car terms, and we’ve had a lot of discussion about what Spanish words to use. I don’t take that lightly: There are times I’ve had to argue with editors to keep it authentic. Some people might look at the surface and say, “Are you saying all Latinos are lowriders?” I’m saying the opposite: The lowrider community has all this incredible art and technology they’ve invested in, and I wanted to celebrate that.
Your latest book, “Ten Ways to Listen to Snow,” seems to have a similar message about the Arab culture: It’s not always what people think it is.
We have books that focus on Muslim culture or immigration, but there are hardly any books about Arab-Americans just living. Arabs are always associated with deserts and camels; I never grew up in a desert--I grew up in Wisconsin! And when we see ethnicity in picture books, it’s always shown in New York because that’s where the editors are. Those books are never set in St. Louis or Kansas City, and the Midwest has many thriving Arab communities. I also wanted to show playfulness, because a lot of Arabs are portrayed as serious, or repressive. And I wanted to have the grandma in assisted living instead of down on the farm because those are the places I visited with my mother and my aunties.
It’s hard when you have only one book to represent so much, but I feel this all needs to start showing up in a positive way. We need to quit mythologizing what happens as you age.
You also play with people’s perceptions of nature: Listening to snow instead of looking.
I love the idea of listening to your surroundings. When I can’t sleep at night, I just lie still and listen to my breath, the sheets, the sounds outside. It’s about placing yourself where you are instead of going on to some media or to something that’s an escape.
You’ve also said that your mantra is, “Daydreaming counts as writing.” How does that work for you?
If I’m stuck on something, I spend an hour not focusing on anything. Your front-facing brain does all that work of worrying about words and finding things to fret about, and your subconscious, which doesn’t use words, needs to have its time and freedom to create. That’s the purpose of going for a walk, or ironing, or doing the dishes—all those activities where you don’t focus, but your subconscious is churning these ideas, and when they come out, they feel fully formed. You can’t work some things out analytically, so when you daydream, your subconscious is making the connections you couldn’t make.
