From Publishers Weekly
Puerto Rican novelist, essayist and poet Cofer (The Latin Deli, etc.) chronicles the childhood and young adulthood of Consuelo, a bookish girl growing up in a San Juan suburb in the 1950s. Cofer's novel is richly descriptive of the shifting mores of Puerto Rican culture and the historical particularities of the era (especially the growing American presence on the Caribbean island), but its deeper elements-Consuelo's growth into maturity; her sister's developing schizophrenia; and the demise of her parents' marriage-lack originality and are plagued by an overabundance of foreshadowing. Consuelo, her name signifying comfort and consolation, looks out for her younger sister, Mili, whose name derives from the word for miracle. The novel begins on a foreboding note: the local transvestite, Maria Sereno, interrupts a casual game of catch between the girls. They scamper into the house, scolded by their mother: "We do not associate in public with people like Maria Sereno." Life grows steadily gloomier for Consuelo: she botches her one high school romance; her beloved gay cousin, Patricio, moves to Nueva York; Mili starts acting strangely, singing to herself and speaking in tongues; and her father has an affair with a lounge singer at the hotel where he works. Cofer relies heavily on signposting, with lines like "It would be a while before we came to understand the true meaning of the word tragedia," which slow the narrative. Precise, near-sociological glimpses of island life in the 1950s-the introduction of mahones, or jeans; GI loans and new housing developments; the reassuring taste of sugar cane-add substance, but this is a plodding, overly deliberate effort.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.
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*Starred Review* The eldest of two daughters in a 1950s Puerto Rican family, Consuelo is a perceptive, book-loving girl who knows that she's expected to emulate her name, which means comfort and consolation, and look after her prettier sister, Milagros (miracle). Given her parents' epic battle over her father's infidelity and enthusiasm for all things American and her mother's fury and love of traditional island life, it's no surprise that Consuelo is the first to realize that all is not well with Mili. As Consuelo tries to protect her increasingly unbalanced sister and navigate her entry into womanhood and the cult of self-sacrifice (Cofer's insights into the art of female suffering are as devastatingly accurate as they are scathingly funny), celebrated poet, essayist, and novelist Cofer combines the timeless clarity and moral imperative of folktales with the timely wit of keen social criticism in an absorbing portrait of a smart and compassionate young woman whose coming-of-age saga subtly parallels Puerto Rico's struggle to retain its cultural identity and natural bounty. But when Consuelo declares, "I belong to myself" and "Words were the key to power and freedom," she speaks for all who learn that they must take control of their lives and write their own scripts.
Donna SeamanCopyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.