From Publishers Weekly
Lesbian grrrls enjoying the gritty splendors of Los Angeles
are the protagonists of this edgy, exuberant debut novel. Leticia Marisol Estrella
Torrez is a young woman in her early 20s valiantly trying to find her place in a world of queers living life on their own terms, even if it means breaking with the traditions of her past. Leti's conventional grandmother raised her to be a proper young Mexican-American woman, but Leti is seeking more excitement and freedom. With "shaved head and stomping boots, my adolescent dyke dick hard all the time," Leti crashes the dyke scene while treading more sedately around her grandmother and dreaming of Weeping Woman, a dangerous, seductive figure from Mexican folklore who haunted her childhood. As she careens through the hipster punk world of Southern California, Leti bounces from girlfriend to girlfriend, learning some valuable lessons the hard way. The enticing women she meets are described in fabulous, over-the-top prose: "My girl Edith: smarty-pants Mission District glamour homegrrrl moved down to Los Angeles on her leopard-print motorcycle." And then there is K, "candy heaven," who battles for Leti's heart along with the inscrutable shade of Weeping Woman. The sex is fun, rollicking and a little bit dangerous; the characters are young and guardedly optimistic. Lemus's enthusiasm bubbles over at times, and her flights of poetic fancy are sometimes wobbly ("taking time like starlight in slow motion"; "I got scared by how lemon-lime Otter Pop her toes could get"), but this is an intriguing novel sure to attract readers searching for something urban, lively and a bit different.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
The breezy tone of Lemus' gen-X coming-of-age story keeps one flipping pages, even when its gay heroine, Leticia, a film-school grad who grooms dogs in L.A. rather than face the rigors of a professional career, suffers debilitating loss and heartbreak. Family, blood-related or acquired, and the "Nana" who raised her, in particular, are central to her life, as is also the mythic Weeping Woman, a Hispanic icon whose presence throughout is by turns threatening and comforting. Only when she is at her lowest, grieving dual losses, does "Let" come to terms with the duality of Weeping Woman and her cultural attachment to the icon--a development parallel to her coming to accept the duality of her Anglo-Hispanic and lesbian identity. Engagingly told in quirky English reflecting Let's speech (e.g., "The static crackle jangle of my voice hummed warm reliable"), this story of ultimately strong friendships charms enough to earn its first-time author an early following. Whitney Scott
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.