Buckaroo and I are listening to Esperanza Rising on my iPod while he milky drinks himself to sleep (a phrase he picked up from his monkey friend).
I should learn not to judge a book by its cover, but I still do. I've seen this cover in the library and bookstores for some time, and liked it but thought maybe the book was a bit light for me.
Jesus y Santos was I wrong. We haven't finished yet, of course, but we've made some serious headway with Esperanza (the main character's name and the Spanish word for hope), traveling from Mexico to California and so far there is no rising. There is only sinking.
My comfort is the reader's voice, the soft Spanish syllables, and the descriptions of California: scratchy golden hills, bare and bony grape vines, rows and rows of asparagus.
I can't wait to go home.
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