Blood Memories book

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Blood Memories

From the back cover:

Teresa Vespucci is four years old in 1906 when tragedy changes the course of her life. Despite a childhood of loneliness and brutality, love from unlikely places teaches her to trust life. She becomes part of an extraordinary family, whose unconditional love matches her own indomitable spirit. Eventually she emerges, matriarch and visionary, the phoenix that rises to empower five generations of women.  Spanning nearly a century of life, the narrative sweeps from Venice to San Francisco, from the Italian Alps to a California farm. Magical realism animates and dramatic twists continually surprise, even as the story unfolds with the haunting simplicity of a fairy tale, to culminate in a powerful portrait of redemption, forgiveness and indestructible love. Blood Memories scintillates with an offbeat wisdom that extends far beyond the boundaries of the ordinary, and Teresa’s vision reaches deep down into the elemental heart of life.

From Ireland and the rest of Europe, you can buy Blood Memories through
From the U.S.A. and anywhere else, you can buy through, where you can also read some reviews.

And so it begins:

The canary started to sing before dawn, and that is
why she remembered the dream. Darkness still shrouded the
room, as the lilting, furious soprano of that tiny bird broke
her sleep. Maria sat bolt upright in the old iron bed and
glanced out the window. She saw nothing, as morning fog
hung upon the few lights of the city, and not even the shape
of the hills appeared through the wall of mist. The canary
extended its wings, hopping from one side to another of its
gilded cage in a fury of movement, as if its frantic effort
could force the clipped feathers into flight. Maria could not
see the bird, but its song and the beating of its stunted wings
had merged into the end of her dream--where its voice
expressed the measure of her delirium, singing of flight and
fear and fantastic longings. In the dream, she saw a host of
heavenly angels spreading their impossible wings until the
night sky undulated like fields of golden wheat, their long
luminous arms like the tendrils of some enormous sea plant
lifting the dead out of their sandy graves and carrying them
high above the ancient city of shimmering water. Bone
knowledge told her what that flapping sound was, and upon
her bare arms and chest she could even feel the warm
whisper of an angel of light . . .

(To read more, you can get the book from the links above.)

Jaya Ganesha Pahimam!

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