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304 pages, Paperback
First published May 7, 2019
The soldiers are fleeing, ashamed of the crime they’ve committed, Elise dared to hope.We all die at least once. But what must it be to experience what feels like the end multiple times? How much of who we are remains after each passing? Who do we become? What do we owe to the lives we’ve lived before?
She was sure they wouldn’t come back just for her. The German soldier must have thought she was a ghost. Or maybe he didn’t see her because she no longer existed. She had died several hours earlier...She had also died two years earlier, that night in the forest, before she woke up burning with fever in Maman Claire’s arms. Now she was living another of her deaths. God only knew how many more deaths she would have to escape.


I’ll never forget my visit with Judith in her small, dark apartment in Kew Gardens, Queens. She whispered her story to me, struggling against her failing health. She said she had been relatively happy in the camp with her parents and the other children, until one afternoon, just before everyone was thrown into battered wagons bound for Poland, she found herself in the middle of a forest, holding her father’s hand. Her father came closer and whispered in her ear: “Look up at the treetops.” For an instant, she felt alone. Suddenly, another firm hand, one she didn’t know, took hers. When she turned, her father was gone. She never saw him again. As I sat there with Judith, transfixed by her words, I felt something blooming inside of me. That afternoon, The Daughter’s Tale was born. - Armando Lucas Correa – from Dear Reader section of the ARECorrea lights our way through this dark passage with repeating motifs of hope and courage. Primary among these is botanical imagery. The letters that Amanda composes to her daughter are written on pages torn from a botanical album, offering a bit of color every time she writes, from a world in which even color seems to have been carted off to a grim end. Botany meets literacy in the naming of Amanda’s bookshop, The Garden of Letters, offering an Edenic fusion of the root of biological life with the good side of knowledge, and the terrors of having been driven out
…in her dreams she saw a desolate future in which she was just another book, destined for the bonfire. One day she too would die in agony amid the flames.The girls’ father offers his daughters a tool for gaining control of themselves in difficult times, by blocking out all exteriors and counting the seconds between their heartbeats. It proves a useful aid in the trials ahead.
“Part of the human DNA I think is not to accept the other — the other because of the color of their skin or the language they speak or the religion they practice or whatever,” he says. “It’s more than not being tolerant. It’s a deep fear of something that is different and makes us turn away.”["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>