This should have been a book that everyone was talking about last year – and maybe it was, but I never heard of it until I found it on a list of best new novels by Latino writers. It’s also been on lists of best new novels, period.
She clutched his hand and pressed close to him as they made their way down the crowded sidewalk. “What’s the forest like?” she asked.
He considered her question, which she had asked more than once simply because she loved to hear him speak of it. “It goes on forever. It’s endless invention, it’s gaudy, it’s gnarled trunks and rotting husks, sunlight peeking through the canopy, and bursts of rain hitting the roof of the forest like tapping on metal. And color, color, color.”
“You don’t sound like a scientist, you sound like a poet.”
Rey smiled, “Can I be both?”
“But you’d rather be a poet.”
“Who wouldn’t?” he said.
From Lost City Radio by Daniel Alarcon.