Books for Arab American Heritage Month
In honor of Arab American Heritage Month in April, we are sharing books by Arab and Arab American authors that share their culture, history, and personal lives.
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Elena was a little embarrassed to be hunting Miguel down at work, but also secretly excited. She could picture him looking gorgeous in his bellhop uniform, his tan skin set against the crisp white cotton. She would be poised, striding up to him with the grace of a dancer. “Hello.” He’d beam. “I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon. What a wonderful surprise.” Elena, you’re hopeless, she thought.
Elena followed Jenna through the canopied front entrance and into the gleaming lobby. They stood beneath a crystal chandelier, its light bouncing off the rosy marble floor. The windows stretched up tall and arcing to graze the ceiling. The molding at the top of the ceiling looked like cake frosting. When Elena glanced over her shoulder, she felt the eyes of the concierge burning into them. She suddenly felt out of place and antsy to leave.
Elena grabbed Jenna’s hand and steered her back to the front of the lobby.
“He’s obviously not here,” she whispered, turning her head to look at Jenna. “That guy behind the desk is giving me the creeps and—” Before she could finish her sentence she felt herself smack into someone. When she turned her head, she found herself staring directly into Miguel’s eyes. They were inches from her own. For a split second she thought, If this boy ever kissed me, this is what it would feel like the moment before our lips touched….
Elena was a little embarrassed to be hunting Miguel down at work, but also secretly excited. She could picture him looking gorgeous in his bellhop uniform, his tan skin set against the crisp white cotton. She would be poised, striding up to him with the grace of a dancer. “Hello.” He’d beam. “I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon. What a wonderful surprise.” Elena, you’re hopeless, she thought.
Elena followed Jenna through the canopied front entrance and into the gleaming lobby. They stood beneath a crystal chandelier, its light bouncing off the rosy marble floor. The windows stretched up tall and arcing to graze the ceiling. The molding at the top of the ceiling looked like cake frosting. When Elena glanced over her shoulder, she felt the eyes of the concierge burning into them. She suddenly felt out of place and antsy to leave.
Elena grabbed Jenna’s hand and steered her back to the front of the lobby.
“He’s obviously not here,” she whispered, turning her head to look at Jenna. “That guy behind the desk is giving me the creeps and—” Before she could finish her sentence she felt herself smack into someone. When she turned her head, she found herself staring directly into Miguel’s eyes. They were inches from her own. For a split second she thought, If this boy ever kissed me, this is what it would feel like the moment before our lips touched….
In honor of Arab American Heritage Month in April, we are sharing books by Arab and Arab American authors that share their culture, history, and personal lives.
For National Poetry Month in April, we are sharing poetry collections and books about poetry by authors who have their own stories to tell. These poets delve into history, reimagine the present, examine poetry itself—from traditional poems many know and love to poems and voices that are new and original. Find a full collection of
