The Remarkable Journey of Coyote Sunrise
The Coyote Sunrise series, Book 1
Dan Gemeinhart
Henry Holt and Co.
Fiction, MG General Fiction
Themes: Country Tales, Diversity, Felines, Girl Power
*****
Description
Once upon a time, the twelve-year-old girl Coyote Sunrise had another name. She lived in a house, not a converted yellow school
bus lovingly named Yager. She called her father Dad, not Rodeo. And she had a mother and two sisters, and they all loved each other
very, very much.
But that was five years ago, before the car accident that destroyed that peaceful home, that love-filled life. Now, she and "Rodeo"
are forever on the move, wandering across the country and back again, and Coyote isn't even allowed to talk about the ones they
lost, let alone ask to go back to the Washington town they once called home, not even to visit; she can't even call her own father
"Dad", for the painful memories it brings. Normally, the girl is okay with her father's "no-go" rules. She loves him, after all,
and there's a lot to enjoy about their rootless life. Then a phone call with her grandmother changes everything.
When Coyote learns that the town is planning to tear up the small park near her old home - the place where her mother and sisters
and her buried a time capsule, just days before the crash - she becomes desperate to get back before the bulldozers come. She made
a promise, after all, a promise to return and dig up that time capsule with her family, and if she's the only one left to do it,
then that makes it all the more imperative that she keep that promise. But to Rodeo, the very thought of a return is paralyzing,
among the few things to bring out anger in the otherwise easygoing man. He's spent five years running away from his grief and
memories, and isn't about to turn around now. It will take all of Coyote's cunning and cleverness to figure out how to get Yager
pointed back toward Washington State... that, and the help of some new friends she and Rodeo pick up along the road.
Review
I'm going to start by admitting that the timing might well have an impact on my rating, here. Almost one week ago, I lost my
father, though not under circumstances nearly as unexpected or traumatic as a car crash (he was in his mid-90s and had dementia
and other health issues). So perhaps I was primed for a book that tackles the complexities of family, trauma, and grief with such
a deft hand and interesting characters, one that treats both adults and children as fully realized people capable of having fully
realized emotions and pains and hopes and dreams. Whatever the reason, this story struck some deep, resonant chords, with notes
of beauty and humor along the way.
It starts with the girl Coyote displaying her larger-than-life personality and confidence as she befriends strangers at a gas
station... but, then, strangers are about the only people she meets. Even though she and Rodeo sometimes give rides to people
who need a lift (only after they meet Rodeo's approval and answer the three questions he puts to all would-be riders in a
satisfactory manner), their rootless life does not lend itself to friends any more than it lends itself to pausing long enough
for their grief to catch up with them... or, at least, catch up to Rodeo. Coyote feels that grief regardless of how high the
numbers roll on Yager's odometer, and she starts the book feeling lonely enough to scheme to bring a kitten on board the school
bus in defiance of Rodeo's no-pet rule. She needs something, anything, to call a companion, and there's something special about
the little gray striped kitten from the moment she sets eyes on him, something that (inevitably) wins over Rodeo and everyone
else they meet. That act of defiance, that admission that her father's chosen life isn't answering the girl's needs, is the first
open crack in the dam the two have built against their shared pain and trauma, a crack that widens when Coyote talks to her
grandmother and learns about the impending destruction of the corner park and, with it, the time capsule. In scheming and racing
to save that little metal box, she's essentially racing to save her memories of her family, to be allowed to admit they existed,
they lived, they loved - all things that Rodeo has designated "no-go" zones. But none of this implies intentional cruelty on her
father's part. He's among the most open, trusting, friendly, and loving people she knows, and their relationship is as close as
ever, which makes it all the more complicated for Coyote to wrestle with defying him, with admitting openly what he stubbornly
refuses to see: that they both need to remember, need to grieve, need to stop running away. Thus, her need to scheme to get him
to drive cross-country without him realizing until it's too late just where they're going. In this, she finds unexpected allies
in a collection of passengers they pick up: a jazz musician hoping to reunite with a girlfriend, a mother and son escaping a
bad situation who are counting on a relative who promises work in another state, and a girl turned out by parents over her
orientation not matching their strict standards. Each of these characters is allowed to be rounded and distinct, with their own
goals and fears and personalities. In the boy Salvador, Coyote finds the first true friend she's had since leaving home, a true
companion and ally, even if they sometimes clash. Lester becomes almost an uncle, an adult to balance out Rodeo's well-meaning
yet sometimes misguided intentions, who understands why she needs to do what she's doing even if her father can't cope with it.
And in Val, she gets a surrogate big sister. This found family helps give Coyote the courage she needs even as the inevitable
confrontation with Rodeo comes closer, though the road trip itself also has its share of adventures and obstacles, leading
everyone to places (metaphoric and literal) that they need to go, even if they didn't realize it when they set out. Throughout
are multiple moments of wonder and beauty and wild abandon, conversations full of surprisingly complex emotions and truths. The
final parts feel slightly stretched, but by then Coyote had earned those moments, and the tumultuous emotions that come with
them. It all comes together in a very satisfying way that manages to avoid excessive treacle and trite sentimentality, never
once cheapening the characters or their journeys.
For hitting so many strong emotional notes, for feeling so authentic yet so full of pain and wonder and truth, and for generally
being the book I needed when I needed it, The Remarkable Journey of Coyote Sunrise earns top marks. It would be nice to
live in a world as generally good-hearted as the one Coyote lives in...