Aurelio,
You are weird. I wouldn’t have known you at all if you weren’t. By now, the regular people in my life come and go until I have nothing but the proverbial creme de la creme. Why? Maybe someone crossed a wire. Chemistry produced an aberration. Astrological charts and zodiac signs foretold it. More likely, it is the rabbit hole of books with no bottom in sight. With a library card in my hands, my education continues with China Miéville and Isabel Allende. Weird is magic, I’ve learned.
In December I shared Rubyfruit Jungle with you, and again I insist on a story of rebellion. House of the Spirits paints the picture of people who define themselves as a separate something. No, the Chilean worker won’t stand for exploitation. No, I won’t be your perfect daughter. Instead, everyone must sacrifice a part of someone else to become who they really are. And there is no applause. Everything conspires to keep them where they began or push them further back. Allende’s Esteban Treuba grins wi…
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