I’ve struggled with this review. How does one choose the right words to describe the right words?
A novelist must choose his words carefully. A poet must choose her words even more carefully. She must choose the one right word or phrase to evoke a torrent of images.
Margarita Engle knows how to do this. As I read the book, I could see the dark cavern in which Estrellita and her mother lived. I could see the “octopus jugglers’ and the “fling of flamingos.”
I could imagine “a mist of possibilities.” The words are magic. The story is magic.
Having said that, I must say that I am not enjoying writing reviews. I’m trying to take the essence of someone else’s story and put it into my words. I find it very difficult, especially when I’m trying to write 300 words of my own about someone else’s words.
I’d rather be writing my own words. From now on I think I will just write a few words about whether or not I liked the story and why.
This post is not going to be the required 300 words because I have a story to finish.
Thank you for your understanding.
(This sounds a little like whining and, for that, I apologize. I will be back to my old snarky self soon, I promise.)
Actually, maybe I’ll just tell you what I’m working on before I continue working on it. I think that will make me feel better.
I carry a magic rock in my pocket. It was given to me by Rissa (remember Rissa?) many years ago and sometimes I put my hand in my pocket to feel its smooth surface. It calms me when I’m upset.
The kids at school wanted magic rocks, too, so I went to the Magic River, and, with much struggling and strife, managed to get them magic rocks of their own.
Therein lies the story…
(Ahhh. I feel much better now.)