Being blond and blue-eyed, having a Jewish mother and a Mexican father are more than enough to saddle David Rodríguez with a severe identity problem. Then there are his grandfathers. They didn't object to his parents' marriage on grounds of religion or race. For them it was a matter of revolutionary politics. That Trotsky was murdered in Mexico City was, for his Russian grandfather, inconvertible proof of the unsuitability of the whole of David's father's family, but especially his other grandfather, an anarchist who had ridden with Zapata. Before they both died when he was about ten David had had an intense, contradictory and now dimly remembered political education. He thinks about his grandfathers often searching for some guidance from their endless arguments in the back yard of his Los Angeles home, for it is 1972, he has come to Peru, a country in the midst of revolutionary change, and he finds himself in at the deep end. More than that. He is in way over his head.
Bill gives an overview of the book:
I was born December 16, 1942 at the French Hospital in Manhattan. On December 27th I moved to the Bronx where I was circumcised by Rabbi T.M. Belkin. Five years later I joined the post-war Borscht Bowl Exodus to the Promised Land in California, driving across the country with...