Her previous memoir, Aphrodite: A Memoir of the Senses was thoroughly enjoyable with a sensuous and erotic tone. I have been away from Allende for a long time, so I was looking forward to this book.
Unfortunately, I did not enjoy this one as much as her other works. Not that there was anything terribly wrong with it, but I did find it to be a self-conscious letter to her deceased daughter. The Allende language was there -- fluid and conversational, but this mix of New Age clap trap, Buddhist philosophy, Chinese alternative medicine, and airing of family squabbles wore thin.
I need to read something else by her soon -- I don't want this book to press itself on my memory. Maybe I will go back to Aphrodite for a second read.
--Chiron, 4/20/08
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