INCANTATION Cover Art INCANTATION
by Alice Hoffman
Paperback
Little, Brown for Young Readers
ISBN: 9780316154284
192 pages

Author Biography  |   Excerpt
More About the Book  |   Buy from Amazon.com

-- ABOUT THE BOOK --

Estrella and her family are Marranos, Spanish Jews practicing their fate secretly to avoid persecution.  As Estrella discovers her true history she finds courage within herself that she has never known and realizes that she must be herself to save her soul, even if it means risking everything.

-- AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY --

Alice Hoffman is the bestselling author of more than fifteen acclaimed novels beloved by teens and adults, from Green Angel, The Foretelling, and Aquamarine to The Ice Queen, Here on Earth (an Oprah’s Book Club selection), and Practical Magic, which was made into a major motion picture. She has also written the highly praised story collections Local Girls and Blackbird House. The author lives with her family outside of Boston. You can visit her online at AliceHoffman.com.



-- EXCERPT --

I went to speak to my grandmother. I was afraid to ask her the questions I needed to have answered, so I said the rosary before I had the courage to approach her. She was kneading dough at the big table. Our table was so old you could see the dents in the wood where my great-great-grandmother had chopped vegetables. My great-great-grandmother had kneaded bread here so often, the table curved down in the center, and now my grandmother was kneading bread in the very same place. She added olives and garlic to the mix, then braided the dough in three parts so that it rose prettily. My grandmother’s way of dealing with the riots in the Plaza was not to go there and not to think about it.

But I had been there. I’d read the decree.

My grandmother was not the sort of person you could fool with pretty words and long, drawn-out requests.

I have questions for you, I said.

I’m too busy. She didn’t even look at me.

Am I Esther?

My grandmother stopped kneading the dough for the briefest instant, then she continued. No answer, so I tried another question.

Are you Sarah? I asked.

Now my grandmother stopped her work. She pushed the dough away and looked at me. She had never looked at me in this way. She had been too busy hiding things from me. For an instant I could see inside of her. She had stopped protecting me from the truth, and it glimmered between us.

So it was true. I felt my face grow hot. Was everything I’d ever thought and said and done been a lie?

And no one ever told me?

Once you know some things, you can’t unknow them. It’s a burden that can never be given away.

I felt so hot and so stupid; I ran to my chamber and threw myself on my bed. My pallet was made of fresh straw, but I was like the lime now and not the flower. Bitterness longs for bitterness.

My grandmother came after me and sat on the edge of the bed.

We planned to tell you, she said.

When? When I was in my grave?

I’m telling you now. We are Jews and we always have been, but the only way for us to survive is to pretend to be something else.

I sat up, my face burning with tears. Maybe they were clear or maybe they were blue. What difference did it make?

Marranos, I said. Pigs.

My grandmother looked as though she wanted to slap me, but she didn’t. It was the truth after all. That’s what they called us.

You have to tell Luis, I said. He’s living a lie. He’ll be furious.

Luis knows. He will take over from Friar deLeon someday so he can protect our people, just as the Friar has. This is how we have a voice the town fathers will listen to.

You told Luis but not me! Because I’m nothing to you!

The world had indeed changed if this was the way I was speaking to my grandmother.

Exactly the opposite, my grandmother said. We kept silent because we didn’t want you to carry the burden before you had to.

When I was a little girl, I had wished my grandmother would come and tell me a story at night, but she barely glanced at me when I went off to bed. Now I refused to look at her.

This kind of knowing you can never tell to anyone. If you want us to survive, you cannot trust a soul.

My grandmother ran her hands over my hair.

Esther, she said.

It was my name after all. My secret name. The one I could never use.

I looked up at my grandmother.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of her

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