One more time for new books as fall approaches. This round includes a children's book in Spanish and English about the life of Ritchie Valens; a book for all ages written by a blind woman who gives us "true tales of parenting in the dark"; a new English translation of a crime fiction novel written by the master of Cuban noir, Leonardo Padura; and a book about Mexico not written by a Mexican and definitely not a tourist guide. Two titles with snakes -- just a coincidence.
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Patty Rodriguez and Ariana Stein, Citlali Reyes (Illustrator)
Lil' Libros -- September 17, 2019
[from the publisher]
Born May 13, 1941, Ritchie Valens was a Mexican-American singer, songwriter, and guitarist. His musical journey began at age 5 when his father encouraged him to take up guitar. In high school, he made his performing debut with the band The Silhouettes. At 17, Ritchie recorded his final record, which included classics like "Donna" and "La Bamba". That record went on to sell over one million copies. To this day, Ritchie Valens' music lives on in the hearts of many!
[from the publisher]
Born May 13, 1941, Ritchie Valens was a Mexican-American singer, songwriter, and guitarist. His musical journey began at age 5 when his father encouraged him to take up guitar. In high school, he made his performing debut with the band The Silhouettes. At 17, Ritchie recorded his final record, which included classics like "Donna" and "La Bamba". That record went on to sell over one million copies. To this day, Ritchie Valens' music lives on in the hearts of many!
Grab a Snake by the Tail
Leonardo Padura
Translated by Peter Bush
Bitter Lemon Press -- June, 2019
[from the publisher]
In this new crime novel from Leonardo Padura, Cuba’s most celebrated living author, Police Inspector Mario Conde investigates a murder in the Barrio Chino, the rundown Chinatown of Havana.
[from the author]
“So Sarah?” the teacher asked, in a question I had rehearsed with her, “what’s it like to have a blind mom?”
“Well,” my little girl said, in an unrehearsed answer, “it’s like a regular mom, except Daddy won’t let her drive his car.”
With that nonchalant reply in front of her second grade class, Sarah summed up the way my blindness has fit into the fabric of our family. It isn't a problem; it isn't even a novelty; it's just part of how we roll. My blindness has changed a few practical logistics. But in the end, kids are kids and moms are moms, and the dents and delights of parenthood are universal. As I told my daughter when she was very small, putting an only slightly different spin on the words my mom had said to me thirty years before, "The eyes in my face are broken, but the ones in the back of my head work just fine."
Daddy Won’t Let Mom Drive the Car: True Tales of Parenting in the Dark is a book of short vignettes—most of them lighthearted, a few more serious—about my life as the blind mother of a sighted daughter. Welcome to my journey!
Houghton Mifflin Harcourt -- October 8, 2019
[from the publisher]
Paul Theroux has spent his life crisscrossing the globe in search of the histories and peoples that give life to the places they call home. Now, as immigration debates boil around the world, Theroux has set out to explore a country key to understanding our current discourse: Mexico. Just south of the Arizona border, in the desert region of Sonora, he finds a place brimming with vitality, yet visibly marked by both the US Border Patrol looming to the north and mounting discord from within. With the same humanizing sensibility he employed in Deep South, Theroux stops to talk with residents, visits Zapotec mill workers in the highlands, and attends a Zapatista party meeting, communing with people of all stripes who remain south of the border even as their families brave the journey north.
From the writer praised for his “curiosity and affection for humanity in all its forms” (New York Times Book Review), On the Plain of Snakes is an exploration of a region in conflict.
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I'm working on an "art project" that, like the ball the dung beetle rolls down the hill, continues to grow with each passing minute. I may have bit off more than I can swallow. I'll keep at it and with a bit of luck I'll report on it the next time it's my turn to bat on La Bloga. Until then ...
Later.
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Manuel Ramos writes crime fiction. His latest is The Golden Havana Night (Arte Público Press.)
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