It’s the summer of 1994, and Cubans have been offered a brief window in which to escape to the sea without fear of official repercussions. Young poet Clara is primed for the opportunity, and persuades her husband, Rigo, to accompany two friends on a raft bound for Miami. She’s convinced that the summer’s events are miraculous—a conviction that is suddenly both confirmed and overshadowed by a divine visitation.
Heaven’s sent a messenger to inform Clara that, rather than leaving, she’s to mount an insurrection of a classic religious form. She’s to give birth to God’s child—this time around, a daughter named Luz. God insists that he’s simply looking for a second chance at parenthood, no strings attached for the little one this time. Other members of the trinity remain unconvinced. As for Clara, she’s for once decided to leave her fate up to divine providence, even if it means relinquishing Rigo to America forever.
The first hundred pages lack mention of this divine calling, and are instead devoted to painting a picture of life in Castro’s Cuba. Said picture is not a flattering one for the dictator, against whom Clara’s intellectual family finds both small and catastrophic ways to rebel. The members of her family are lovingly drawn, from blindness-afflicted Pilar to Clara’s linguistic genius father, whose experiences abroad disillusion the family of the notion that there’s true escape even in academic pursuits.
Gonzalez’s recreates Cuba with verve and sensitivity. The indignities visited upon innocent citizens are juxtaposed with the gilded experiences of foreign visitors with affecting success. Sections devoted to God’s conversations with his son in Heaven provide both levity and space for theological considerations. Jesus, who’s going through what God calls his “terrible two thousands,” berates his father for expending so much energy on an obstinate planet and belittles God’s previous parenting skills in a preemptive attempt to make life on Earth more pleasant for Luz.
God trades between recollections of biblical times and assurances that he has no grand plan for his newest child. They volley their contentions and memories about, not always staying perfectly in character, but well reflecting the antagonism that exists between some fathers and sons.
Later chapters prepare the way for a sequel, and readers who enjoy the strangeness of this humorous and theological first installment will certainly look forward to Luz’s future adventures. With its unexpected twists and rich characterizations, Luz is a first novel whose surprises reward the suspension of disbelief.
Genre: FICTION / HistoricalLUZ has reached two of Amazon's top 100 lists:
Hispanic Fiction and Literature (#26)
Kindle Paid Book in Caribbean and Latin American Literature (#10)
I did a promotional free Kindle download seveal weeks ago (mid June 2014) for only two days and it reached number one on numerous download lists.
“¡Hay mija!” he said. “You are nothing like Mary was. No wonder the Creator didn’t brief me. Still, I can see why He’s chosen you. You’re feisty, aren’t you? Quite rebellious. Yes, that Group Insurrection suits you quite perfectly. Look, Clara, you will not scream, and you must believe me. A great thing is about to happen—a miracle. You have been chosen to be the mother of God’s next child, and this time it’s going to be a girl. You will have a daughter and will name her Luz. You must name her Luz because, well, that’s what the Creator wants. I think she’s supposed to be the new light of the world, but don’t quote me on that.”
“Really?” I muttered to myself, prodding and prompting and pressing myself to get up, wondering why, despite all my efforts, this dream wouldn’t end. Wondering why, as I looked around the room, I could see nothing beyond this dazzling, blinding light.
“That’s original!” I said. “Luz of all names! Luz!”
“Well, let’s just say your species isn’t the brightest in the universe, Clara, that it needs as much a hint as it can get.”
“Wake up,” I ordered myself, clasping my arms in a new round of restlessness. I even tried pinching myself. “It’s time to put an end to this—wake up, Clara!”
“You are not asleep, Clara!” the messenger insisted. “And this is not a dream. Neither is it a hallucination or even a vision. It’s a visitation, Clara. Do you understand the difference? I’m here to pay you a personal visit.”
| Language | Status |
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Assunta Franco
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Vasco Figueiredo Cruz Bento
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