(Also available in English as It’s All or Nothing, Vale; review is of the English version.)
As a former competitive fencer, I had high hopes for this novel in verse about a queer, seventh-grade fencer—and my expectations were exceeded.
Valentina “Vale” Camacho was the best fencer at her Virginia fencing gym and top-rated in youth tournaments, until a motorbike accident seriously injured her leg, requiring metal pins and months of rehab. Now she’s been cleared to fence again—but her leg isn’t what it was and she’s still often in pain. Her mother doesn’t understand why she doesn’t just give up fencing and focus on trying new remedies; her father, however, acts like she should be just fine; and her older brother suggests she try new hobbies.
For Vale, however, “fencing isn’t just a hobby/I can pick up and put down—it’s who I am.” She’s trained for years, even at the expense of having friends, and now just wants her body to be what it was before the crash. That’s not easy, however. But when a new girl at the gym, Myrka Marerro, is now seen as the top fencer there, Vale is determined to win back her reputation. She knows she can beat Myrka—but her plan to do so is complicated by her growing crush on Myrka, an out lesbian.
The book is much more than a story of a crush or even of an athlete seeking to reclaim glory, however. It’s about our expectations for ourselves, what happens when those expectations are derailed and we must reassess who we are, and how we can find support for doing so, whether from family or beyond. Author and Newbery Honor winner Andrea Beatriz Arango shows us Vale’s perfectionism, determination, frustration, and anger, but avoids easy answers. This is shown most clearly in Vale’s exploration of whether she is now disabled; an exploration thoughtfully informed by Arango and her husband’s own experiences with chronic pain.
Anrango gives Vale her own Puerto Rican heritage, too, which manifests itself in various ways, such as the salsa Vale’s parents love and [in the English version] the Spanish sprinkled throughout the text (easily understood from context by non-Spanish speakers). Myrka is Cuban, however, and reminds us of the wide variety of Latina/o/e experiences.
(My only small quibble is that the jacket illustrations, which are really quite lovely, show Vale holding what appears to be a fencing foil, not the epee that Vale is said to use. (Epees have a larger guard.) That takes nothing away from the excellence of the book, but my own fencing perfectionism compels me to note this.)
Women’s sports in general are on the rise and U.S. fencers are doing better than ever on the international stage. Not only that, but a queer American woman of color, Lauren Scruggs, won a 2024 Olympic silver medal in the individual foil competition and a gold in the team competition. That gives this highly recommended book obvious timeliness—but its thoughtful portrayal of self-growth should give it even broader appeal. Touché
