An autoblogographical posting--I took the photos just for fun, and then ran out of battery on my camera and was unable to photograph another reader!
Waiting for my sister
and reading Dreaming in Cuban, by Cristina Garcia. It's for my book group. We'll meet at a salsa club (Jelly's, I think) on June 22nd for brunch, discussion and dancing.
I'm only on page fifteen and a goat has just been sacrificed and, in response, in the home of La Madrina, at the end of a dark tropical road, the protagonist fainted. I happen to like goats and was disturbed myself. However, more than anything, I was compelled to keep reading. The ritual was done so that the protagonist's recently deceased father would rest in peace and I felt so absorbed in this exotic parlor where seashells hang on long threads from the ceiling and red candle wax drips everywhere, that, though I may have been sitting in a sunny spot on 19th and Mission Street, I was feeling very much in Cuba. Fortunately for my sister, who did finally arrive, I snapped back to being very much on 19th Street.
Where have you traveled today with a book?
(I just finished Grandpa's Fiddle, by Timothy J. Halloran, loaned to me by the reader from May 14th, and I give it a two thumbs up. That book took me from the American South to Africa to the Wild West in the 1820s.)