From the title, I thought Little Mocos would be a middle-grade or young adult novel, but it isn’t. Far from it. The profanity-laced text is proof of that. Little Mocos delves into a dark existence of what it was like to live as an Hispanic in the Southwest. The book is so dark at times that it (spoiler alert) discusses murder, alcoholism, drug use, sexual abuse, and nearly everything else that is dire. Even with all this, I had a hard time caring about what happened to the characters. The book is divided in many small excerpts, but I still found it difficult for the story to hold my attention. Being from the Southwest, I thought I could easily relate to the setting and the characters. On the contrary. I found the story to be quite depressing. There seemed to be no way out for the characters to find happiness or improve their dismal existence. The story was well-written, but it was definitely not my favorite story. They say authors write about what they know. I certainly hope Mr. Jaramillo had a happier upbringing than what is described in this book.