Publication Date: March 3, 2015Yucca Publishing/Skyhorse Publishing Formats: Hardcover, Ebook
ISBN: 978-1631580420
Genre: Historical Fiction/YoungAdult/Fantasy
From the bestselling author of An Obsession with Butterflies comes a magical story of America in the time of the conquistadors. In 1528, the real-life conquistador Cabeza de Vaca shipwrecked in the New World where he lived for eight years as a slave, trader, and shaman. In this lyrical weaving of history and myth, the adventurer takes his young daughter Teresa from her home in Texas to walk westward into the setting sun, their travels accompanied by miracles--visions and prophecies. But when Teresa reaches the outposts of New Spain, life is not what her father had promised. As a kitchen servant in the household of a Spanish official, Teresa grows up estranged from the magic she knew as a child, when she could speak to the earth and listen to animals. When a new epidemic of measles devastates the area, the sixteen-year-old sets off on her own journey, befriending a Mayan were-jaguar who cannot control his shape-shifting and a warhorse abandoned by his Spanish owner. Now Teresa moves through a land stalked by Plague: smallpox as well as measles, typhus, and scarlet fever. Soon it becomes clear that Teresa and her friends are being manipulated and driven by forces they do not understand. To save herself and others, Teresa will find herself listening again to the earth, sinking underground, swimming through limestone and fossil, opening to the power of root and stone. As she searches for her place in the New World, she will travel farther and deeper than she had ever imagined. Rich in historical detail and scope, Teresa of the New World takes you into the dreamscape of the sixteenth-century American Southwest.
Praise for Teresa of the New World
“Wow! The magical elements were a total thrill-ride, and what a satisfying ending. After finishing it I had that wonderful sensation I get from a great read—the mysterious feeling of having been somewhere, of dreams having risen up and carried me along on a wild journey.” - Sarah Johnson, EditorPraise for Sharman Russell
Russell has written twelve previous books with numerous starred reviews in Publishers Weekly and Booklist. The San Francisco Chronicle has said “Russell’s writing is luminous” and Kirkus Reviews wrote, “A deep reverence for nature shines throughout Russell’s rich, enjoyable text.” The Seattle Times described her An Obsession with Butterflies as a “masterpiece of story-telling” and the San Diego Union Tribune called it “A singular work of art, with its smooth, ethereal prose and series after cascading series of astonishing lore.” The New York Times and Discover Magazine both described her book on hunger as “elegant.”Buy Teresa of the New World
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About the Author
Sharman Apt Russell has lived in Southwestern deserts almost all her life and continues to be refreshed and amazed by the magic and beauty of this landscape. She has published over a dozen books translated into a dozen languages, including fiction and nonfiction. She teaches graduate writing classes at Western New Mexico University in Silver City, New Mexico and Antioch University in Los Angeles, California and has thrice served as the PEN West judge for their annual children’s literature award. Her own awards include a Rockefeller Fellowship, the Mountains and Plains Booksellers Award, a Pushcart Prize, and the Henry Joseph Jackson Award.
For more information visit Sharman Russell's website. You can also find her on Facebook and Goodreads.
Read an Excerpt
Teresa’s head ached until she wanted to twist it from her neck as she would have twisted off the head of a chicken. Tossing and turning, burning and groaning, she saw wonderful things even as the sores appeared, first on her face, then moving like a feathery tip of fire to her chest and groin. Fire and feathers. She saw brushstrokes in the air from the wings of angels. She saw Juan Diego, the man who carried roses to the Bishop, his apron glowing with a picture of the Lady. She saw Fray Tomás, too, and this was not so wonderful, for the friar was bleeding from his mouth and nose and ears, from every opening in his body. She saw his soul, a yellow sheen, slip up into the sky. She saw the wise woman, and this was the most vivid dream of all….The wise woman looked at Teresa. She did not look at Cabeza de Vaca, Teresa’s father. She was not interested in Teresa’s father. “What you have lost will be restored to you,” the woman said. With a painful leap of her hard heart, Teresa knew the wise woman was speaking to her and no one else. (200 words)
* * *
Teresa found herself entering the jaguar’s mind more forcefully than she had ever entered the mind of the horse or any other animal. She saw the flutter of the cottonwood tree. She saw the shifting shadows along the rock walls. She saw a human girl—herself!--standing by the pond, a human girl colored in shades of gray, each shade distinct. In the dimming sunset, the jaguar could see perfectly—the sharp detail of the girl’s stained clothes, the hair coming loose and unbraided, four tattoos on each cheek…now the jaguar opened his mouth and breathed in and Teresa’s senses exploded. Now she could smell what the jaguar could smell, odors deeper and richer than anything she had experienced before, layers of smell she could read like Fray Tomás had read the words in her father’s book: the wet decay of leaves, the death fear of a mouse, the sweet cloy of datura, water and mud and insects, the wind carrying the smell of other animals, the wind itself, and the girl, of course, always the girl with her juicy flesh. The girl smelled incredibly good. Should the jaguar do this? Should Teresa eat herself?
* * *
Teresa lay flat with her arms stretched out. She let herself sink deeper into the earth. Long ago, she had felt the excitement in her veins and watched the magic crackle from her father into yucca and saltbush and locust tree. Long ago, her foster mother had said she would be a woman of power. Long ago, she had floated toward the rattling pebbles in the gourd. Now was the time. If she were ever to find and use that power . . . Teresa gathered herself and let herself sink deeper, falling forward, downward. She felt the earth soften. She remembered the girl with long black hair who could swim through rivers of stone. That girl had moved through stone as easily as the wind moves through the branches of a tree. That is how it feels! Teresa thought. Her feet and legs, her stomach, her breasts, her face settled into the softening ground. She was about to disappear into the earth. Only something held her back. Something hard and unyielding. Teresa felt her ribs enter the earth and then stop, unable to go further. It was her hard heart. Her hard heart could not come with her. Teresa hesitated. She needed that hardness as protection against disease—against memories. She thought of her father…He had wrapped her in his arms and in his language, whispering about a life she did not understand although understanding seemed to form just beyond the sea and sand, waiting there for her to grow older. Even when the story confused her, she had caught words or phrases, ideas like fish, bold and surprising, tasting of her father’s mind. She had learned quickly to nod and speak because he needed her to do this, because his need surrounded her like the blue sky. She was his bastard, and he had loved her. Yes, he had loved her. That was the memory she couldn’t bear. He had loved her, and he had lifted her up from the bed of crushed oyster shells. He had taken her on his journey, and nothing had ever been the same.
* * * *
As soon as she saw the blue pond and cottonwood tree, Teresa’s weariness fell away like a tossed blanket. Her hard heart seemed to lift and soar, and she puzzled briefly at her reaction. Then she knew—this is how she had always imagined Heaven. Whenever Fray Tomás spoke of Paradise, whenever he praised Eden and its joys, this is what she saw…The air felt freshly cool as she went to drink from the pond, to stand on the bank and look searchingly about, alert for the pattern of jaguar’s spots, the black and gold fur. Likely he was resting in one of these rock alcoves, resting and waiting for her. Perhaps he was scared, remembering Plague. It’s time to wake up, she thought….and Teresa found herself entering the jaguar’s mind more forcefully than she had ever entered the mind of the horse or any other animal. She felt a whirling and a turning. She was staring out of yellow eyes. She saw the flutter of the cottonwood leaves. She saw the shifting shadows along rock walls. She saw a human girl—herself-- standing by the pond, a human girl colored in shades of gray, each shade distinct. Even in the dimming sunset, the jaguar could see perfectly—the sharp detail of the girl’s stained clothes, the hair coming loose and unbraided, four tattoos on each cheek….The jaguar opened his mouth and breathed in and Teresa’s senses exploded. Now she could smell what the jaguar could smell, odors deeper and richer than anything she had experienced before, layers of smell she could read like Fray Tomás had read the words in her father’s book: the wet decay of leaves, the death fear of a mouse, the sweet cloy of datura, water and mud and insects, the wind carrying the smell of other animals, the wind itself, and the girl, of course, always the girl with her juicy flesh. The girl smelled incredibly good. Teresa felt the world, immediate and joyous, pressing on her. There was no doubt what she should do. She should crouch and spring and eat the girl.
Teresa of the New World Book Blast Schedule
Monday, March 23100 Pages a Day
Tuesday, March 24
Passages to the Past
Saturday, March 28
Broken Teepee
Monday, March 30
Unshelfish
Tuesday, March 31
Griperang's Bookmarks
Friday, April 3
A Bookish Girl
CelticLady's Reviews
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