Three and a Half Years of Reading in Spanish

I picked up a book in Spain over three years ago because it looked interesting. I thought, “I’m proficient enough in Spanish, and this sounds like a fun action-thriller that will be a breeze.” It was not a breeze. I am not that proficient in Spanish (though my father said he didn’t think it was a very good translation, so perhaps that didn’t do me any favors). But I persisted, and I finally finished reading David Golemon’s Leyenda, translated by Ester Mendía Picazo.

leyenda
Source: Goodreads

I can’t quite give a thorough review, because since I was so focused on understanding the language, it was easy to get lost in what characters were who and who did what, though I think that may have just been the nature of the book. There was such an extensive ensemble and multiple converging storylines that it was all a dizzying swirl of action and adventure. What I can say is that it reminded me of a cross between National Treasure and The Da Vinci Code, so it was a fun read to be sure.

But this post isn’t about giving a review. It’s about relishing in my accomplishment of finishing my first ever book entirely in Spanish. It’s not my first language, so to say that I read 415 pages in my second tongue, especially when it heavily dealt with a topic of which the vocabulary was completely new to me, is something to be proud of.

I had moments where I thought about quitting and just saying that I can’t read in Spanish. But I didn’t do that. Instead, I took my time. I read voraciously some nights, as I was enthralled by the story. And other nights I read one paragraph or one page. That’s okay. There was no pressing need to finish the book in a timely manner (clearly). It took three and a half years, but I finished.

I think it’s important that I took on this endeavor, because it taught me an important life lesson. It may take many years and more time than anticipated, but it’s possible to finish something that seems impossible. Weirdly enough, completing this challenge I set for myself, even three years later, has renewed my energy to finish my next challenge (which I’ve also been working on for four years now): writing my first novel.

I’ve been working on writing my book on and off, writing when I have time. For the last four years it’s felt like a hobby that I’m doing to pass the time, and like it’s something that I’ll never finish. Sometimes I write a chapter and think, “Okay, that’s the next chapter. Who knows when this will be done.” But reading a whole book in Spanish and getting to the end taught me that, yes, an end does come, even if it takes more time than thought. I don’t just feel like I’m writing for writing’s sake now. I finished Leyenda, so that means I can finish writing my book.

This all also coincides with the impending end of my master’s program. In just eight more weeks, I’ll be done and officially have my MBA. I see the end of each of these adventures as the closing of chapters in my own book, but not as the end of my story. Some chapters are longer than others and take more time, but they do come to an end. And that just means I know I can accomplish these things and feel rejuvenated to start the next one.

I thought being a reader had taught me all it can at this point, but it turns out there’s still so much more that being a reader can teach me.

Halfway ‘Round the World Again

Your land is named after & runs through
the halfway point of two hemispheres,
which is only fitting, because I myself
traverse two sides of multiple worlds.
One foot on each side, straddling the line
between Latin anf American, queer and
not. It only makes sense that the equator
runs through my veins. I was never meant
to be part of just one world, always two, like
God saw fit to give me symmetry. Sometimes
it’s worth the trouble, for views like this, and
moments like these.

*Originally published on my personal blog here.

Exile, intensive care by Christina Tudor-Sideri — BURNING HOUSE PRESS

Click the link to read. Beautiful work!

I am not from here. I am from somewhere in between push and pull. I am a thrust not yet experienced by what people usually call ‘home’. I am exiled. I am exile. I reside not in my consciousness, but in the lingering smell of last night’s cigarettes and rain drops. In the burning of […]

via Exile, intensive care by Christina Tudor-Sideri — BURNING HOUSE PRESS

Meagan Reads YA Fantasy: Bruja Born by Zoraida Cordova

There are spoilers ahead, so if you plan on reading the book, proceed with caution!

bruja born blog
From my Instagram page

Bruja Born by Zoraida Cordova is the followup to Labyrinth Lost, all part of the Brooklyn Brujas series. This book is told from the perspective of the older sister, Lula Mortiz, after the events of what happened in the first book. She’s still coping with the trauma and struggling to find forgiveness for her sister Alex’s actions. Meanwhile, Alex has embraced her encantrix powers, but still feels guilty , so she does everything for her sister to earn her forgiveness.

Lula is clearly undergoing the effects of PTSD, as she consistently states that she no longer feels like the same person. So much so that even the love of her life, Maks, doesn’t bring her the same joy he once did, but she’s so adamant at holding on to her old self that she clings to his presence and the relationship they once had that’s no longer there. After months of these trials and tribulations, Maks decides to call it quits, but Lula doesn’t accept that. She tries using her powers of healing to mend their broken relationship, but in that same moment Death herself comes for Lula’s school mates in a bus crash.

Lady de la Muerte comes to claim Maks in the hospital in the aftermath, but Lula won’t let go. She enlists the help of her sisters to heal Maks before Death can take him, but things go terribly wrong. He dies, and when he wakes up, he’s not himself anymore. When Lula tried to tether her life force to Maks’s, she accidentally did the same for the other victims of the bus crash, creating an army of casimuertos (almost dead). Now, the Mortiz sisters are in a race against the paranormal authorities and time to fix their mistakes, but in order to do so, Lula must learn to let go of Maks, and Lula’s sisters must let go of her.

Cordova’s characterization of Lula is adept, as readers see the Mortiz family now from her eyes. One of the things I found especially telling and heartbreaking was how Lula always had Alex glamor her scars away on her face. The scars are a remnant of what happened in Los Lagos in book one, so hiding them is a form of trying to forget the trauma she underwent. More than that though, it’s vanity.

I don’t say that to be condescending in that way sometimes teenage girls are treated for caring so much about their beauty. Lula herself recognizes that her need to cover up the scars on her face is connected to the fact that her whole life she’s been told that she’s beautiful, and she knows that beauty is power when it comes to being a woman. It’s not to say she values her other qualities less (i.e., her healing magic, her fierce loyalty, her strength), but she knows having been told her whole life how beautiful she is means the world puts value in her physical appearance, and by having a scarred face, that power has been taken away.

There’s only a few brief sentences in the beginning of the book about this power dynamic, but it’s so in line with what women in our world are constantly told. Cordova didn’t spend much time on it, but she didn’t need to. Lula said it all in those few short internal thoughts on that one page. She managed to convey a complex idea of feminism in such a small space, and that’s the mark of a great writer.

By the end of the book though, Lula has found power in her magic, her family, and her bravery and strength. In the end, she makes the ultimate sacrifice to save her family, friends, and the world, even if it means she doesn’t get to live to see it. Thankfully, Lady de la Muerte doesn’t take her life as repayment for the chaos she’s caused from her actions, but the price that’s paid isn’t cheap either. There’s clearly more to come in book three, but whatever comes their way, I’m sure the Mortiz family will overcome.

I’m also glad that Lula has found power and strength in her scars, literal and metaphorical, and that she grew into someone who is learning to live with the past, but not  necessarily holding onto it as a lifeline.

Have any of you read this book yet? What are your thoughts on the Mortiz sisters and their stories? Let me know in the comments!

Three poems by Wanda Deglane — BURNING HOUSE PRESS

What a brutal batch of poems. I loved them. “…scream endlessly into their ears in one long, feral sound. because closure isn’t real, but screaming is.” Click the link below for more stunning lines like these!

August August is second-degree burns / from hands grazing against metal / it is waking from sweat-dripping nightmares / and no more room for intimacy / August is a silent scarring / a tension you can taste / stinking rotten in the air / it is a dozen new bruises / peppering my limbs every […]

via Three poems by Wanda Deglane — BURNING HOUSE PRESS

Berceuses by Petero Kalulé — BURNING HOUSE PRESS

Click below to see all 3 poems. I’m a fan 🙂

Dementia come to mind cloud come to cloud mind – Marie Ponsot & every now & then, i sit by her feet, on her porch never ever talking. & together, we watch the soughing heavens mutter, str- etching their cotton-silvers in lulls & retorts of nearly went & nearly wait – […]

via Berceuses by Petero Kalulé — BURNING HOUSE PRESS

Hidden Roads

hidden roads blog poetry

Winding dirt paths that turn
into rocky roads lead the way to
hidden routes that few tourists find.
We make our way through into
people’s homes, communities, and
lives, and this time, we’re the colonizers.
I like to think we’re benevolent
though, as we mean no harm
and only want to eat their food
and take pictures of what to them
is mundane. I get it. I’m from Miami.
I know the type. But we’re different
because we know the surrounding
culture outside the edges of these towns.
Hidden roads only to us. Known
and already discovered by the natives
of the land. Isn’t that always how the story goes?

Originally published on my Instagram page.