Looking at her, Nestor felt faint-hearted: she was more beautiful than the sea, than the morning light, than a wildflower field, and her whole body, agitated and sweaty from her struggles, gave off an aromatic female scent, somewhere between meat and perfume and ocean air, that assailed Nestor's ...
At first, she didn’t mind seeing him waiting below, among the market stalls, and introducing him as her new novio to her vendor friends. They’d go for walks, sometimes sit in the cool and dusty interior of the Mother of Mercy church, or in the cathedral, holding hands and praying. Sometimes they ...
I have noticed some other aspects of Oscar Hijuelos’s work, and while these are not quite so obvious on first reading, they still exist nevertheless. For instance, he was able to invoke a concern for our humanity, for our most intimate longings and fantasies, and he did this with a delicacy of to...
You would have seen, on certain mornings, my mother, Magdalena, formerly of Holguín, Cuba, and now a resident of the “United Stays,” pacing back and forth fitfully before our stoop, waiting for a car. She would have been eye-catching, even lovely, with her striking dark features and pretty face, ...
