![]() ![]() He’s still an unparalleled choreographer of outrageous calamities that exist somewhere between coincidence and fate. ![]() “His thoughts, his memories - what he imagined, what he dreamed - were all jumbled up.” For us, though, these reveries don’t read like dreams so much as superbly crafted short stories about “his childhood, and the people he’d encountered there - the ones who’d changed his life, or who’d been witnesses to what had happened to him at that crucial time.” Indeed, Juan Diego’s memories of adolescence around 1970 in OaxacaĬompose some of the most charming scenes that Irving has ever written. Prone to frequent spells of dreaming, “his mind was often elsewhere,” Irving writes. ![]() But Juan Diego’s heart and the heart of this novel lie far in the past. ![]()
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