What do you think?
Rate this book


320 pages, Hardcover
First published June 11, 2013
Small-town boy. Gypsy girl. Desert Summer.

There it was - all our lives, everything we knew, just days from becoming a ghost town, a memory, a graveyard.
I'm not the kind of guy who believes in things.
I was marked, and not for this.
"Don't you feel it too, Lala?"


It's not that I thought there was anything wrong with being gay. It's just that it's a big goddamn leap between being okay with other people being gay and being okay with my own brother announcing he was.
"It's just--damn it, James, isn't there anything you can do about it?"
I felt stupid. I wasn't some close-minded redneck. I knew that being gay is no more something you choose than the color of your eyes. But I also knew about the value of hard work. Sure, I was a natural runner. But I ran every day. I made myself into an athlete.
"Maybe you're gay, James, and maybe you can't change it. Okay, maybe you wouldn't even want to change it. But damn it, can't you try a little harder not to look so goddamned gay?"
And then came a wave of something that at first I did not have a word for. I liked the sensation, and I considered carefully how to name it. Ah. It was power. I felt powerful.
My mom liked to tell me and James about Pops back in the early days, back before his years in the gypsum dust had turned his skin chalky and pale, back when he was robust and strong, back before lines were carved in his face like a road map to nowhere.
The books begins when he is at a school far away from his family – a sleepaway school. Right there we know that something is wrong. What kind of a family sends its children away for an education? My people, we understand that the best education is gained from living and working with the family.
This boy, who was clearly full of reticence and did not want to be here seemed to me like the answer to a question I had not known I’d asked.
Deep inside me, it was as if something was waking and stretching its limbs. Some secret dragon hibernating in my core had been stirred by the presence of this boy.
They are not like us; they do not understand the bonds that tie my people together, unseen but potent bonds of tradition, story, and shared suffering. They do not know our hearts; I had always believed that they could not know our hearts, even if we tried to share them.
As always my features were smooth: unreadable. My job was twofold: to read every secret on the faces of my client, and to hide all of mine deep within.
“You think you see things clearly, but you do not see deeply, Ben. The same is with the way you think about your brother, and your parents' situation also. You see only how things appear to be from where you are sitting. But rarely is an answer so easy, so one-sided.”
I decided I liked this man – generous, slow to make judgments and gentle with h is boys. He ruffled James’s hair as he passed, drawing a steely-eyed gaze from his younger son, who quickly repaired the damage to his hair with a pass of his hand.
“When I first came here, I hated the desert”, I told him. “It seemed to me that there was not much to see, and what little there was held no mystery. But today you are showing me places I could not have guessed existed.”
Most likely he thought I meant this quarry, which was true enough, but I spoke also of the way I felt. It had been like a desert – barren, flat, scorched dry – but it seemed to me now that there could be secret, hidden places anywhere, unexpected oases just beyond the horizon.
My people do not have just one name. Of course we each have the name our families and friends know us by, and often we have another name, one by which the gazhe (Americans) know us. But there is another name – a first name, whispered by a mother into her baby’s ear, a name that no one else will ever know.



Deep inside me, it was as if something was waking and stretching its limbs. Some secret dragon hibernating in my core had been stirred by the presence of this boy.. ... I knew from the expressions on their faces that the way I looked was pleasing to them - why should it not be? I was young, healthy, full of life.”
I think often there is no good way out of something. No nice, easy ending or neat resolution, no clear way to set things right. That works in stories, in children's fairy tales, but not in real life.
Not everything can be fixed. And perhaps not everything should be.
~quote taken from the eARC of Burning at 99%
Christina's Review:
I think often there is no good way out of something. No nice, easy ending or neat resolution, no clear way to set things right. That works in stories, in children's fairy tales, but not in real life.
Not everything can be fixed. And perhaps not everything should be.
~quote taken from the eARC of Burning at 99%