By Oscar Casares
In a small city at the Mexican border stay brothers, Don Fidencio and Don Celestino. obdurate and autonomous, they now needs to face the evidence: they're previous, and so they have allow a relations argument stand among them for too lengthy. Don Celestino's good-natured housekeeper encourages him to make amends--while he nonetheless can. They secretly unlock Don Fidencio from his nursing domestic and commute into
With winsome prose and heartfelt humor, Oscar Casares's debut novel of relations misplaced and located radiates with generosity and beauty and confirms the coming of a uniquely gifted new author.
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Additional resources for Amigoland
Tuesday, oatmeal and raisins. Wednesday, oatmeal and raisins. On and on that way. He usually spread sugar over the top of the oatmeal and then mixed it in with a little bit of milk until it got creamy, but he could see himself skipping this part of his routine just so he could start eating. The biscuit he would bite into while it was still hot (normally he liked to save it for later, sometimes taking extra care to wrap it up in a napkin, placing it in the center of the paper and folding the napkin end over end until it formed a small brick that he could stuff inside his shirt pocket).
For what? For him to be stuck here, waiting to die? At least if Celestino was alive he was probably out there living his life like a free man. If… They hadn’t actually spoken in years. Why, though? He sat down to wait for the hour that they would let him go outside for his first smoke. After that it would be only a few minutes until they served him breakfast. He opened the address book again. If he wasn’t mistaken, Celestino was the one who used to cut hair. Either he or Martín, but he thought it was more likely Celestino.
If he had to push around this wheel-barrow to get anywhere, then what chance did he ever have of leaving on his own? He had made his first attempt only a couple of weeks after arriving. He’d been smoking his afternoon cigarette under the covered archway where the cars stopped to pick people up. Only two of The Old Turtles had left during the half hour he’d been out there. One Turtle they lifted in the special van used to transport the residents to their doctors’ appointments; the other Turtle sat still as her grandson lifted her out of a wheelchair and set her down in the front seat of his pickup like a duffel bag full of used clothes.
Amigoland by Oscar Casares