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Peel My Love Like an Onion
The seductive world of flamenco forms the backdrop for a classic tale of independence found, lost, and reclaimed. Like Bizet's legendary gypsy, Carmen "La Coja" (The Cripple) Santos is hilarious, passionate, triumphant, and mesmerizing. A renowned flamenco dancer in Chicago despite the legacy of childhood polio, Carmen has long enjoyed an affair with Agustín, the married director of her troupe--a romance that's now growing stale. When she begins a new, passionate liaison with Manolo, Agustín's grandson and a dancer of natural genius, an angry rivalry is sparked. Carmen finally makes her way back to happiness in this funny, fiery story that's equal parts soap opera, tragicomedy, and rhapsody.
213 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1999
18 people are currently reading
845 people want to read
About the author
Ana Castillo
66 books337 followersAna Castillo (June 15, 1953-) is a celebrated and distinguished poet, novelist, short story writer, essayist, editor, playwright, translator and independent scholar. Castillo was born and raised in Chicago. She has contributed to periodicals and on-line venues (Salon and Oxygen) and national magazines, including More and the Sunday New York Times. Castillo’s writings have been the subject of numerous scholarly investigations and publications. Among her award winning, best sellling titles: novels include So Far From God, The Guardians and Peel My Love like an Onion, among other poetry: I Ask the Impossible. Her novel, Sapogonia was a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. She has been profiled and interviewed on National Public Radio and the History Channel and was a radio-essayist with NPR in Chicago. Ana Castillo is editor of La Tolteca, an arts and literary ‘zine dedicated to the advancement of a world without borders and censorship and was on the advisory board of the new American Writers Museum, which opened its door in Chicago, 2017. In 2014 Dr. Castillo held the Lund-Gil Endowed Chair at Dominican University, River Forest, IL and served on the faculty with Bread Loaf Summer Program (Middlebury College) in 2015 and 2016. She also held the first Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz Endowed Chair at DePaul University, The Martin Luther King, Jr Distinguished Visiting Scholar post at M.I.T. and was the Poet-in-Residence at Westminster College in Utah in 2012, among other teaching posts throughout her extensive career. Ana Castillo holds an M.A from the University of Chicago and a Ph.D., University of Bremen, Germany in American Studies and an honorary doctorate from Colby College. She received an American Book Award from the Before Columbus Foundation for her first novel, The Mixquiahuala Letters. Her other awards include a Carl Sandburg Award, a Mountains and Plains Booksellers Award, and fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts in fiction and poetry. She was also awarded a 1998 Sor Juana Achievement Award by the Mexican Fine Arts Center Museum in Chicago. Dr. Castillo’s So Far From God and Loverboys are two titles on the banned book list controversy with the TUSD in Arizona. 2013 Recipient of the American Studies Association Gloria Anzaldúa Prize to an independent scholar. via www.anacastillo.net
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 90 reviews
December 29, 2013
I read Peel My Love Like an Onion based on reviews of "So far from God", a book whose acclaim caused many to place Ms. Castillo in the same class as Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Junot Diaz. Upon reading such adoration AND discovering she was a Chicagoan born and raised, I decided I needed to read everything she'd ever written.
After getting past the feeling that maybe this book (the first of her offerings I could get my hands on) wasn't written for me, a black male, I found myself appreciative of her talent but stopping short of including her in the category of the previously mentioned Nobel Laureates...and that's ok.
What initially felt like excessive writing and my listening to a friend recount her journey out of pity, turned into the diary-like story of Carmen la Coja (the cripple), a young Chicago chicana for whom early childhood polio has left her right leg almost useless. Carmen is an easy character to judge; despite being a pretty, observant girl, her handicap and the obvious self-doubt and longing that accompanies such a predicament causes her to settle for the sort of pseudo-relationships some might dread. This theme plays itself out across Carmen's interaction with friends, family and lovers, imbuing her with a sort sad indifference to most in her life.
Since this is an easy book to give too much away in a review, I will digress and simply advise you not to give up on this one early on; you'll miss out on a book that, while not incredible, has a title that is spot on and delivers the cultural goods on multiple levels.
After getting past the feeling that maybe this book (the first of her offerings I could get my hands on) wasn't written for me, a black male, I found myself appreciative of her talent but stopping short of including her in the category of the previously mentioned Nobel Laureates...and that's ok.
What initially felt like excessive writing and my listening to a friend recount her journey out of pity, turned into the diary-like story of Carmen la Coja (the cripple), a young Chicago chicana for whom early childhood polio has left her right leg almost useless. Carmen is an easy character to judge; despite being a pretty, observant girl, her handicap and the obvious self-doubt and longing that accompanies such a predicament causes her to settle for the sort of pseudo-relationships some might dread. This theme plays itself out across Carmen's interaction with friends, family and lovers, imbuing her with a sort sad indifference to most in her life.
Since this is an easy book to give too much away in a review, I will digress and simply advise you not to give up on this one early on; you'll miss out on a book that, while not incredible, has a title that is spot on and delivers the cultural goods on multiple levels.
Read
April 21, 2011I really, really disliked this book. The writing style was self-indulgent, and the plot too postmodern for my tastes.
September 23, 2024
When you find something familiar you tend to cling onto it in the hopes that it will lead you to a world that will reflect your experiences and mirror back insights that seem unique to you. I find myself constantly seeking reassurances in my reading that I am not alone in my thoughts and feelings- no matter how dark and twisted they may be. When I started reading Peel My Love like an Onion, I thought I had found a kindred spirit. A Mexican-American woman who struggled with her identity, that had a strenuous relationship with her mother and that sought scraps and pieces from other worlds to form a face she would recognize in the mirror. The prose used in this book is lyrical and it resonated with reflections and insights that I’ve had. There were many times when it was a pleasure to walk alongside Carmen, even when I had to slow my pace. There were other times when Carmen’s spirit would race ahead of us (myself and her body) and I would have to run to keep up with her. Carmen was afflicted with polio at a young age. It has left her a cripple, a label she acknowledges and recognizes since it is simply a fact for her. Despite this affliction she becomes a flamenco dancer. It is through this passion that she is able to tread a path she thought was beyond her and experience a love affair with two men. One she holds on to despite a love that has grown rotten and the other renews her with a passion she thought she wouldn’t experience again. This is where my kinship with Carmen turned a bit sour. You see, she had become such a dear friend but at this point she became the friend that fills her life with unnecessary drama, doesn’t heed your advice and keeps coming back to complain about something she has complete control over. It sometimes read like a soap opera and I wasn’t a fan of that. I wasn’t rooting for those men, if anything I wanted to tell them to leave Carmen alone and let her live her life. This is a wonderful book though and I became a fan of Ana Castillo. I want to read all of her works now. She was such a wonderful introduction to Xicana/Xicanisma literature. I felt I had found a voice that I could relate to and that is always a wonderful experience. The lyricism in this book makes it a joy to read, it’s interspersed with Spanish sayings and words that fit the tapestry and I definitely recommend it. I hope this review made sense. It was a book that demanded introspection on what my identity means to me, it held up a mirror that was at times twisted and at others a bit too reflective.
October 4, 2010
This was a difficult book to read due to the author's style of writing and layout of the book. The characters were not ones that I was able to relate to at all. Overall not a book I would recommend.
May 21, 2008
This was an interesting read. I liked the book, but did not love it. Definitely a page turner though - it was unpredictable, which was one of the things I liked about it. The uncertainty of Carmen's relationships with Manolo and Agustin kept me reading on! She also portrays some of the characters well, particularly her family. I could picture them, as well as the house that they lived in. I would have liked to have read more development in her relationship with neighbor ChiChi, as well as more depth in general, esp. in the main character, Carmen. ChiChi seemed highly intriguing - I would have liked to have seen more character development.
My greatest disappointment was the lack of any great change in Carmen. She doesn't seem to evolve much, despite all of the various events of her life. This part of it reminded me of Gone with the Wind, where again, despite all of these obstacles and different life events, the main character Scarlett just doesn't seem to change much (that was quite maddening to me in the movie, actually!). So, it's a nice book, just not one of my favorites or anything I was really struck by. She has a nice, easygoing writing style, but it's not an earth-shattering book. It's not Harry Potter!
My greatest disappointment was the lack of any great change in Carmen. She doesn't seem to evolve much, despite all of the various events of her life. This part of it reminded me of Gone with the Wind, where again, despite all of these obstacles and different life events, the main character Scarlett just doesn't seem to change much (that was quite maddening to me in the movie, actually!). So, it's a nice book, just not one of my favorites or anything I was really struck by. She has a nice, easygoing writing style, but it's not an earth-shattering book. It's not Harry Potter!
May 12, 2023
This was a fabulous Latina novel unlike any other I've read. Most Latina novels (in English anyways), have at least one "good Catholic" character and a bit of moralizing somewhere occurring with at least one character in the novel. Peel My Love Like an Onion did not have any of that. It's a very interesting and sensual story, but also what sets it apart even more is that the main character has a disability. Carmen "La Coja" has issues with one of her legs due to polio. As part of her treatment to regain mobility, she along with other polio patients begin to learn flamenco from an instructor as part of their physical therapy rehabilitation. What at first seems absurd and almost insulting to her, becomes her salvation. She becomes a local flamenco phenom, and her life is one of passion, marked by encounters with musicians and dancers, including two men who, to her chagrin, treat her like shit. I loved reading about this woman and how she ages and comes to grips with the life she's lived and the boundaries she draws. Really a great read.
April 5, 2021
I am back to this one for a third reading, teaching it for a second time after several years.
I still enjoy it, but its flaws are more apparent to me than before.
To start, though, I still love the central notion of our protagonist, Carmen la Coja – which translates as Carmen the Cripple – who nevertheless has a brilliant career as a flamenco dancer. There’s a sense in it that she refuses to be limited by what others say about her, refuses to be limited by what has come before.
As I taught it this time, I stressed the way she is always looking to reconfigure her “antecedents,” a metaphor I take from the opening sentences where she uses pronouns before she gives their antecedents. I think that rhythm pervades the novel, intriguingly. We see it in the nature of the dance where, Carmen tells us, a dancer’s steps can tell the musician to play differently – even, I think, when the music is already recorded. We see it as well in the way she, a Mexican-American, can perform a famously Spanish dance as part of a company of mostly Roma.
And we see it in the structure of the narrative itself where, in a mostly slow-motion account of her unhappy present, we gradually get the ‘louder’ story of her younger years.
So, all of that still works well and memorably. This is a strong novel, or I wouldn’t be teaching it in multi-ethnic, and I think it raises a lot of compelling matters.
That said, I found myself more distracted this go-round by the narrative quirks. I felt a bit manipulated in the way the time of “now” would pass without clear markings. At the start, Manolo has been gone for what seems little more than a year. By the end, it’s been five, and Carmen has begun a recovery. It’s confusing to figure out where the time went. And, I guess, it leaves me wanting to know more of what’s happening in her life as she reimagines her “antecedent” time.
I also admit to a frustration I recall from earlier readings. I am rooting for Carmen – Castillo is too good a writer for me to be indifferent to her – but [SPOILER:] I find it a bit pat to have things turn out so well for her at the end. It’s nice that she becomes a singer (all at once and with no training) but does she have to become a mid-level recording star as well? It’s also good to see Manolo and Agustin come crawling back to her but, again, must it be both? Why not let her find happiness with someone like Max?
None of that mars this generally fine book, but it does take some of the shine off it. There’s something magnificent still in the way Carmen channels flamenco on her one good leg and through the passion she embodies. Those highlights remain good reason for reading a strong novel, even if the shine of it may be wearing off for me.
I still enjoy it, but its flaws are more apparent to me than before.
To start, though, I still love the central notion of our protagonist, Carmen la Coja – which translates as Carmen the Cripple – who nevertheless has a brilliant career as a flamenco dancer. There’s a sense in it that she refuses to be limited by what others say about her, refuses to be limited by what has come before.
As I taught it this time, I stressed the way she is always looking to reconfigure her “antecedents,” a metaphor I take from the opening sentences where she uses pronouns before she gives their antecedents. I think that rhythm pervades the novel, intriguingly. We see it in the nature of the dance where, Carmen tells us, a dancer’s steps can tell the musician to play differently – even, I think, when the music is already recorded. We see it as well in the way she, a Mexican-American, can perform a famously Spanish dance as part of a company of mostly Roma.
And we see it in the structure of the narrative itself where, in a mostly slow-motion account of her unhappy present, we gradually get the ‘louder’ story of her younger years.
So, all of that still works well and memorably. This is a strong novel, or I wouldn’t be teaching it in multi-ethnic, and I think it raises a lot of compelling matters.
That said, I found myself more distracted this go-round by the narrative quirks. I felt a bit manipulated in the way the time of “now” would pass without clear markings. At the start, Manolo has been gone for what seems little more than a year. By the end, it’s been five, and Carmen has begun a recovery. It’s confusing to figure out where the time went. And, I guess, it leaves me wanting to know more of what’s happening in her life as she reimagines her “antecedent” time.
I also admit to a frustration I recall from earlier readings. I am rooting for Carmen – Castillo is too good a writer for me to be indifferent to her – but [SPOILER:] I find it a bit pat to have things turn out so well for her at the end. It’s nice that she becomes a singer (all at once and with no training) but does she have to become a mid-level recording star as well? It’s also good to see Manolo and Agustin come crawling back to her but, again, must it be both? Why not let her find happiness with someone like Max?
None of that mars this generally fine book, but it does take some of the shine off it. There’s something magnificent still in the way Carmen channels flamenco on her one good leg and through the passion she embodies. Those highlights remain good reason for reading a strong novel, even if the shine of it may be wearing off for me.
May 6, 2016
I am pretty familiar with Ana Castillo's writing. I have read both "So Far from God" and "The Mixquiahuala Letters" - my GoodReads claims - and I also gave 4 stars to both of them. Hmm. The problem is: I do not remember either of them. Blank brain pages is what I see when I try to conjure up anything about both books. And that is WHY I recently started writing reviews, so I can remember a little better what I spend hours and hours of my life on.
Anyway. The main character in "Peel my Love Like an Onion", Carmen, is a flamenco dancer despite being handicapped (due to suffering, as a child, from polio that was treated too late). In the novel we meet her shortly after she decides to end her dancing career: her body tormented by polio that seems to be returning as she is nearing forty and her soul discouraged by both: a recently finished long-time relationship as well as a failed, intense affair.
Now that she doesn't do dancing gigs with her group anymore, something she lived for and loved, she takes on a menial job in food services and obsesses over her past two relationships. This is partially where most of my liking for this novel comes from - I applaud its illustration of a WORKING class. Of people doing these INVISIBLE jobs. You know, like a salesperson, or a fast food restaurant server? It is always astonishing to me how many characters in all sorts of novels have these whimsical jobs, preferably freelancing and well-paid, because you sure cannot move a plot with a character who comes back after 8 hours (usually more like 12) of disheartening work to sit down and watch TV because they have no strength to do anything else. Or can you ?
This is probably why I like reading novels by immigrants or by direct descendants of immigrants, there happen to be many more characters who actually have to make a living in the roughest of possible ways, and barely so. Similarly here. And even when she was dancing, Carmen is still describing her overall poverty, surrounding herself with pretty objects obtained at Salvation Army, occasionally not having money for a square meal etc. It's genuine.
The entire novel is such - honest. I really appreciate Castillo's style. I am pretty familiar with her poetry, which seems to have engraved in my memory much better than her novels, and the manner of creating her novel world feeds a lot on her poetry's simplicity an acuteness. I also appreciated the characters, even though they are not particularly likable - I certainly wouldn't give an ol' rat's whisker for the two main male characters (no valen un comino! Spanish 101, not really). I did not, however, find the cultural discussions (the mentioned male characters are gypsies) particularly compelling, perhaps it's because these guys were just idiots and when you're an idiot it hardly matters what your ethnicity is.
I also feel rather lukewarm about the ending, which I am not going to disclose, okay? I am not a criminal. I will just mysteriously say that it seemed rather... fake-ish. A bit "is it a fairly tale or is it just fabulously forced?" kind of an ending.
SO! I will definitely read more Castillo, probably her essays, which are hiding somewhere on one of my shelves, but it will not be anytime soon.
Anyway. The main character in "Peel my Love Like an Onion", Carmen, is a flamenco dancer despite being handicapped (due to suffering, as a child, from polio that was treated too late). In the novel we meet her shortly after she decides to end her dancing career: her body tormented by polio that seems to be returning as she is nearing forty and her soul discouraged by both: a recently finished long-time relationship as well as a failed, intense affair.
Now that she doesn't do dancing gigs with her group anymore, something she lived for and loved, she takes on a menial job in food services and obsesses over her past two relationships. This is partially where most of my liking for this novel comes from - I applaud its illustration of a WORKING class. Of people doing these INVISIBLE jobs. You know, like a salesperson, or a fast food restaurant server? It is always astonishing to me how many characters in all sorts of novels have these whimsical jobs, preferably freelancing and well-paid, because you sure cannot move a plot with a character who comes back after 8 hours (usually more like 12) of disheartening work to sit down and watch TV because they have no strength to do anything else. Or can you ?
This is probably why I like reading novels by immigrants or by direct descendants of immigrants, there happen to be many more characters who actually have to make a living in the roughest of possible ways, and barely so. Similarly here. And even when she was dancing, Carmen is still describing her overall poverty, surrounding herself with pretty objects obtained at Salvation Army, occasionally not having money for a square meal etc. It's genuine.
The entire novel is such - honest. I really appreciate Castillo's style. I am pretty familiar with her poetry, which seems to have engraved in my memory much better than her novels, and the manner of creating her novel world feeds a lot on her poetry's simplicity an acuteness. I also appreciated the characters, even though they are not particularly likable - I certainly wouldn't give an ol' rat's whisker for the two main male characters (no valen un comino! Spanish 101, not really). I did not, however, find the cultural discussions (the mentioned male characters are gypsies) particularly compelling, perhaps it's because these guys were just idiots and when you're an idiot it hardly matters what your ethnicity is.
I also feel rather lukewarm about the ending, which I am not going to disclose, okay? I am not a criminal. I will just mysteriously say that it seemed rather... fake-ish. A bit "is it a fairly tale or is it just fabulously forced?" kind of an ending.
SO! I will definitely read more Castillo, probably her essays, which are hiding somewhere on one of my shelves, but it will not be anytime soon.
March 30, 2009
It's been more than ten years since I read Sapogonia and I loved this as much as the first. Ana weaves chicana, flamenca, and gypsy cultures with the dysfunctions of family and a downtrodden city life together so beautifully that you want to live a day in the life of Carmen. She creates a romantic triangle of heartbreak and then surprises you with a heroine at the end. Carmen la Coja will make you want to have a room at the Hollywood hotel with late nights of flamenco dancing with the gypsy boys and too much brandy, and best friends like ChiChi and Vicky - what a great book, I was sad for it to be over.
August 6, 2015
I rate a book by personal feelings and not on the writing or anything else. I did not care for this book because I did not like the lifestyle of the main character. I didn't like her relationships with the men in her life or even her family. She felt to me to be of a lower class socially and it didn't interest me the circles of people she blended with.
January 11, 2009
He became as essential to my life as the sun that rises each morning to tell us we have not died the night before but just gone to sleep to dream.
November 14, 2018
Something about this narrator and overall story did not grab my attention.
September 23, 2025
I wanted to like this book, especially during Hispanic Heritage Month, but honestly not my favorite read. The writing style felt dated; referring to women’s virginity as their “innocence” had me rolling my eyes right away and left me questioning if the time frame was the 1900s.
I tried looking for a deeper meaning, maybe around the psychology of a “pick-me” woman and how feelings of inferiority make her compete for attention. But that thread didn’t hold long, most of the drama only lasted a short while. Then, about 60 pages from the end, suddenly there’s a flood of new backstory and “lore” about the characters — like we’re just now finding out Monalo’s bato is dangerous and that the family is some mysterious origin? It felt like the author got tired of the story and tossed in random twists instead of building them up. What made this even harder to get through was the main character herself. She keeps going back to the same men who abandoned her and treated her badly. Like… girl, please. It felt less like character depth and more like watching someone self-sabotage on repeat. Overall: not very impressed.
I tried looking for a deeper meaning, maybe around the psychology of a “pick-me” woman and how feelings of inferiority make her compete for attention. But that thread didn’t hold long, most of the drama only lasted a short while. Then, about 60 pages from the end, suddenly there’s a flood of new backstory and “lore” about the characters — like we’re just now finding out Monalo’s bato is dangerous and that the family is some mysterious origin? It felt like the author got tired of the story and tossed in random twists instead of building them up. What made this even harder to get through was the main character herself. She keeps going back to the same men who abandoned her and treated her badly. Like… girl, please. It felt less like character depth and more like watching someone self-sabotage on repeat. Overall: not very impressed.
June 5, 2024
Carmen is a flamenco dancer who was afflicted with polio as a child but still has persevered in her flamenco so that she performs regularly in Chicago. She has fallen in love with two men: Augustin, her teacher and Manolo, a fellow dancer. The book brings out her personality well, her struggles as a dancer when the polio reappears, and her mixed feeling about the two men in her life. While it seems somewhat soap opera-ish in the plot, Ana Castillo brings out Carmen's personality and voice out very well and made the book very enjoyable.
December 4, 2017
This was a compelling story with an intriguing main character. When I think of flamenco dancing, I think of strength and passion and vigor. Somehow Castillo puts all of that into her writing here and, yet, fittingly, leaves it a little bit flawed. The development and growth of the main character was not perfect but felt real and relatable. The prose and pacing is beautiful, but don't expect it to read like a contemporary American novel.
June 30, 2024
I didn’t hate this book, but I did not love it. I enjoyed learning a bit more about the Spanish and Hispanic culture - the author was very detailed about it throughout the book.
However, as interesting as the book was, it was a bit of a difficult read. I wasn’t a fan of the author’s writing style, as it often times got a bit confusing. I also felt that there wasn’t much depth to it. The book itself is interesting, but it was hard to follow along.
However, as interesting as the book was, it was a bit of a difficult read. I wasn’t a fan of the author’s writing style, as it often times got a bit confusing. I also felt that there wasn’t much depth to it. The book itself is interesting, but it was hard to follow along.
July 8, 2023
Una familia mexicana en Chicago una muchacha con polio increíble en estos tiempos empieza a bailar flamenco y se junta con unos españoles y baila mutt buen pasa el tiempo y desamores le regresa la polio no puede bailar más y de repente se da cuenta que canta y se hace famosa y todos los amores regresan
February 19, 2019
The story is as alluring and sexy as the title. Carmen is no damsel in distress. She knows heartbreak, but doles it out, too. She’s as dangerous as the men she loves, and I love that.
Great writing makes this a delightful read.
Great writing makes this a delightful read.
July 9, 2022
The story of a famous crippled flamenco dancer was good, but the absence of quotation marks in dialogues, and run on sentences drove me crazy. Almost didn’t finish the book, but I had to see how it ended.
May 22, 2023
The story of a dancer who wants to be famous and loved. Interesting themes around the story located in Chicago such as being a Latina, LGBTIQ+ communities, toxic lovers, disabilities, and gypsy culture. Easy to read.
June 8, 2017
I started this book a couple of times but it took awhile for me to really get into the story. The flamenco/gypsy aspect is interesting but the story was confusing for me.
November 19, 2019
Una novela entretenida y graciosa. Una lectura “light”, cómoda y con suficiente agarre como para no soltarla.
August 5, 2020
Picked this up at a thrift store for 1.00!! I want to read every other book she ever wrote. Great writer, great subtle and intuitive descriptions. MORE MORE MORE
September 1, 2024
There were some bits that didn't really come together well, but overall this was a quick, fun read with a delightfully flawed protagonist.
April 22, 2025
bruh Manolo was RIGHT THERE! and miss gurl was still getting with the man who basically groomed her. 🤦♀️ messy asf
July 8, 2025
Uf… esta mujer es insufrible
January 8, 2017
It was different. I don't agree with Carmen's decision in the end.
October 18, 2008
Chicago native Ana Castillo will not disappoint you. She knows this city and can kindle the spirit of the early Chicanos that lived where the University of Illinois at Chicago houses its campus, a controversial area often defined as East Pilsen, University Village or whatever is the newly fashioned name positioned by real estate interest.
Her expertise in the city certainly makes her a must read for Chicagoans deeply vested in the historical makeup of this diverse, robustly energetic and hard working city. Initially I suspected I would have maybe a thing or two in common with Ms. Castillo, but after two weeks of immersing myself in her poetry, blogs, and novels she rivals Pulitzer Prize winning author Junot Diaz among my most recent favorite reads and is definitely a heavy weight contender in the world of books. I knew I would find her familiar, but what came as a surprise, and what I absolutely love, is her ability to avoid clichés and commit to creative and original plots.
Latina writers usually land in several different categories; Castillo seems to create those categories and re-invent the genres while simultaneously understanding her literary role, contributions and impact. Her creativity is expressed particularly in Peel my Love like an Onion where the author gives voice to a woman’s memory of loves lost or from the past. Her affection for Manolo and Agustín forge an inevitable dialogue around the posed question pertaining to a woman’s memory of the men she loves and how those relationships plague her thoughts.
In the poetry from My Father was a Toltec Castillo relies on personal metaphors that require a committed thought and research process. Her intense levels of metaphoric connection qualify her as a candidate for a Pulitzer. She knows the craft well. At times her fiction can be accused of having muddled themes or complex historic ideas and interpretations but even that would be a stretch considering how important it is to peel her themes, “like an onion,” even at the risk of tears.
Castillo’s intelligence, social consciousness, fun novels and witty blog will make her grow a fan base, and grow it quickly. Not soon after reading a lot of her work did I say “Ana Castillo for President.”
Recently the author has been in Chicago discussing her books and voicing her thoughts.
“The gloves are off,” says Ana Castillo in her blog about Vice Presidential Candidate Sara Palin.
The writer, journalist, essayist and political activist spoke to us in the relatively new writing genre called blogging. Her flowing thoughts were blogtastically funny, lighthearted, ironic and even devastatingly serious. It’s extremely apparent that Castillo is researching and listening to both political parties and may have reached her decision for the upcoming election. Read more at www.anacastillo.com.
(Cynthia Ferreira Extra News Book Report)
November 16, 2008
I like this book. I can relate to the author who is similar to me in someways (politically aware, facing physical health challenges, artistic) but different in many of the specifics(flamenco dancer, Latina, Chicago) The book's pacing is wonderful, fast because it jumps around via memories and beautiful metaphors. Her style is unique -- I like it because it is informed but not academic. It is complex and alive even abstract at times but it is not heady. In my own way I want to learn from the book.
Sometimes the book can get preachy. I've noticed that it is on political topics. The narrator includes at certain moments observations on life in Chicago-- sweatshop shoes, youth violence, etc. I love what it says aboout the narrator but those are the only moments that feel like they are taking me out.
She writes about love, loving, lovin, sexing, negotiating, settling, all these things. I'm not even half way done yet. Ciao!
Sometimes the book can get preachy. I've noticed that it is on political topics. The narrator includes at certain moments observations on life in Chicago-- sweatshop shoes, youth violence, etc. I love what it says aboout the narrator but those are the only moments that feel like they are taking me out.
She writes about love, loving, lovin, sexing, negotiating, settling, all these things. I'm not even half way done yet. Ciao!
August 2, 2016
I read this book after hearing Ana Castillo read some of it aloud at a Free Library of Philadelphia event (well, I heard it on a podcast, many years later), mixed with some stories she told about living in her mother's basement during a hot summer while she wrote it.
All the characters, even those that only appear for a few pages, feel real to me, in the sense that I can picture Castillo picturing them in and around her Chicago neighborhood, commuting to work and walking in the evening to buy groceries, whether work is the Sbarro at Midway or an elote cart, or a hair salon, or a dance studio. If I owned this book rather than reading a library copy, I'd send this to the book swap I'm supposed to contribute to tomorrow.
*threadbare leotards*clueless people eating cold tortillas*shrimp fricasse from the conquest of mexico
All the characters, even those that only appear for a few pages, feel real to me, in the sense that I can picture Castillo picturing them in and around her Chicago neighborhood, commuting to work and walking in the evening to buy groceries, whether work is the Sbarro at Midway or an elote cart, or a hair salon, or a dance studio. If I owned this book rather than reading a library copy, I'd send this to the book swap I'm supposed to contribute to tomorrow.
*threadbare leotards*clueless people eating cold tortillas*shrimp fricasse from the conquest of mexico
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