Bless Me, Ultima • Tortuga • Alburquerque
“I was a bit in awe of him. But he immediately took on the role of some kind of tío and he told me something I have never forgotten. He said if you can make your abuelita in Tijuana the grandmother of some reader in Iowa, you have committed the most powerful of political and religious acts. I hear that small voice every time I work on a book or a story.”
—Luis Alberto Urrea
Bless Me, UltimaRudolfo Anaya
“We will leave tomorrow at sunup,” Ultima said.
I was allowed to go, and so early next morning we got in my father’s truck and headed westward. We traveled halfway to Las Pasturas and then left the paved road and turned southward on a dirt road of the llano. The llano was beautiful in the early morning, beautiful before the summer sun of August burned it dry. The mesquite bushes were green, and even the dagger yucca was stately as it pushed up the green stem that blossomed with white bell flowers. Jackrabbits bolted from shady thickets at the approach of the truck and bounded away into the rolling hills spotted with dark juniper trees. The sun grew very white and warm in the clear, azure sky. It was hard to believe that in this wide beauty there roamed three souls trapped to do evil.