Red, White, and Whole: A Newbery Honor Novel in Verse about an Indian American Girl Navigating Identity and Grief

by Rajani LaRocca

I have two lives. One that is Indian, one that is not. I have two best friends. One who is Indian, one who is not.

For much of my early life, I felt divided and wondered where I belonged. As a grew up, I realized that most people feel this way at some point...and especially during adolescence. Have you ever felt this way?

Girls Just Want to Have Fun That’s what the song says, with a catchy melody that makes you sway back and forth. It’s 1983, I’m thirteen. I just want to be like everyone else to fit in to have fun. I want to free my hair from this ponytail, this braid, toss it over my shoulders to unfurl in curly glory.

This album is amazing, and it was such a source of inspiration for me when it came out in 1983. I was blown away by Cyndi Lauper's range, her voice, her style, and her joy for life. I wanted to dance in the streets like they do in the video! What music takes you right back to particular time or place?

Moon, he says. That’s what Amma is named after. Moon, I repeat. Amma takes my hand, points at tiny sparkles strewn like bright pebbles in the darkness. Star, she says. That’s what Reha is named after. Star, I repeat. Which one? Amma holds my arms apart All of them, Reha. and I embrace the field of light.

The metaphor of the mother as the moon and daughter as a star was one I knew I wanted to include when I first started writing this story. The night sky binds all of us together, no matter where we're from. And Reha's parents want her to know they want the whole world to be open to her — all kinds of possibilities.

Red, White, and Whole Amma works in the Hematology lab at the hospital. She spins the blood and counts the cells in the Complete Blood Count. She counts the red cells, that carry oxygen, the platelets, that stop bleeding, and the white cells, the warriors protecting us from invaders. At least if they’re doing what they’re supposed to do. Cells and plasma together are called whole blood, which is what flows inside us. Red, white, and whole, the precious river in our arteries, our veins, our hearts.

This is another central metaphor in the book which is brought to life so beautifully in the cover. Red, white, and whole -- reflecting the components of blood, the different meanings of red and white in American culture, and the colors of the American flag.

but on a cloudy day, they match the sky. When he wears green, I see bits of yellow swirling. When he’s arguing a point in class, his eyes look purple. Then I stop and remind myself not to stare. Which is hard, because Pete is my partner in English.

Pete's eyes are inspired by my husband's eyes.

God is everywhere, says Amma. He is in every living creature. God has many faces, many forms, male and female, human and animal, and forms we cannot imagine. This is why we do not hurt people, or harm animals. Why we do not eat meat. God’s wisdom is in paper and books. So we do not disrespect them or touch them with our feet. God is everywhere. And I believe it, because I hear God in Daddy’s humming as he shaves, feel God in Daddy’s kiss good night, smell God in the silk of Amma’s sari, see God reflected in her shining eyes, and taste God in the spicy, sweet, piping hot food we eat together.

I knew how I wanted to end the book before I wrote it, and I knew it would echo this poem.

And a small piece of home has flown across the world and landed in Amma’s hands.

This is what is always felt like when we received aerogramme letters from India. Just thinking of those blue letters gives me a thrill. I rarely write letters anymore, but sometimes I wish I did.

Do not stand there, Reha, says Amma. Come in or stay out. It’s the old superstition, from the myth of the demon who could only be vanquished neither inside nor outside, during the day or night, on earth or in the air. A metaphor, as Amma says, for not doing anything halfway.

I still think of this anytime I'm standing on a threshold!

Amar Chitra Kathas When I visit India and my cousins are at school, I read to fill the time until they return. I finish my summer reading list, and when that is done I read Agatha Christie and Judy Blume. But I also love Indian comic books called Amar Chitra Kathas. They tell stories in English from Indian history—like the story of Ashoka and his wheel, and mythology—like how Lord Ganesha got his elephant head, with different artists illustrating each story. And so, even though I don’t know Sanskrit and I never went to school in India, I learn about where I’m from.

These books were such a huge part of my childhood, and when I talk to Indian-American kids today, they feel the same way.

Always Something There to Remind Me That’s the refrain of the song, with bells ringing in the background. I’ve danced to this song with Rachel, seen the music video so many times at Sunny’s house. It’s about a boy whose girl has broken up with him and gone away. But he can’t forget her. It’s tender, wistful, but somehow, it makes me happy. I think the girl will return to that boy. That song feels like good luck. Whenever I hear it, I feel like something wonderful is going to happen.

This was my favorite song in 1983, and I always felt something good would happen when I heard it on the radio.

The River Blood metallic and earthy, essential, cleansing, the river of life in our veins. Blood binds us to each other, as humans, as kin, parent to child. Thicker than water, it tells all. The stories of our ancestors are written there. But what happens when your own blood betrays you?

This is the first poem I wrote for this book. This story came to me as a metaphor — the metaphor of blood, and all that it means in terms of biology, family, and community. I wanted the last line to have two meanings: that Amma's blood is literally betraying her in the form of cancer, and that Reha feels that she, who is part of her mother's blood, has betrayed her mom.

Under hospital lights, the world is upside down. The world of medicine, the one I’ve always wanted to join, is scary. And I begin to question whether I really want to be a part of it.

This happened in my real life when my mom was injured. I wanted to be a doctor, but the smell of the hospital nauseated me when my mom was so sick, and I wondered how I could pursue a medical career if that's how I felt. Ultimately, I got over it, and I'm grateful I pursued a career in medicine.

But when I lift the lid, a horrible scorched scent assaults my nose. I bring the pan to the sink. It hisses as the water hits it and the awful smell hangs in the air. It’s okay, says Daddy. We can try again. But it’s not okay. My appetite is gone. Everything is ruined.

This happened in my own life, when my mom was in the hospital and my dad and I first tried to cook by ourselves.

If virtue has a color, it’s not white. Not that pale, all-reflecting non-hue, not that color of mourning. If virtue has a color, it’s the color of the life within us, dancing with every heartbeat. It’s the legacy of our ancestors, the gifts of our parents that we try to live up to. If virtue has a color, it’s an auspicious one. Red. Blood red.

Another poem, linking virtue and blood, written early in my process of writing this book.

He reaches for my hand, and I take it. My arm doesn’t tingle, because it doesn’t feel strange. And I realize we are friends, both living two lives, both rushing over rapids in separate boats.

This is an important turning point for Reha, when she realizes that her friend is also dealing with a very difficult situation. Have you ever been in the middle of something hard and recognized that someone you care about is also struggling?

I open the present and find a cassette tape. A mix tape. With a note: Merry Christmas. The case is labeled: For R from P He’s written the names of all the songs he’s put on the tape.

The most amazing present ever! It took hours and hours to make a mix tape — recording things off the radio, then onto another tape in the right order.

Pete counts off on his fingers: A hero is brave, but not without fear. Says what they believe is right. Works to make the world better. Acts out of love for others. You check all the boxes, Reha.

Reha finally sees herself at having the potential to be a hero -- because she's willing to face her fear to try to save her mother.

And know this: you belong. You belong to this country, where you are growing up. And you belong to India, where your blood is from. You belong to both, and they both belong to you.

I wrote this as adult me talking to myself as a child. I couldn't mean this more, and I hope it resonates with anyone going through this type of struggle.

We all contain multitudes, and not only is that okay, it is essential. I hope you enjoyed reading this book of my heart. I hope it helps you understand that even when you feel torn apart, you can still be a whole person—not just despite the things you struggle with, but because of them.

I hope this story helps readers, young and old, understand that none of us is just one thing. We can sit with the things we struggle with, and ultimately find that they are our strengths.

This story is a love letter to my parents, Kasturi and Chakravarthy Narasimhan, who raised me with unconditional love and the sense that the world is limitless. Unfailingly kind and joyful, they have always faced the challenges life has thrown at them with a wonderful sense of humor. Mom and Dad, you are my heroes.

Thanks so much for reading this book of my heart. I hope you enjoyed it. Please consider voting for it in the Goodreads Choice Awards: https://www.goodreads.com/choiceawards/best-childrens-books-2021