I tasted Gabriela, the sweet and salty snacks, the progress of Ilhéus, the bitter flavor of machines coming and the cachaça.
I sensed the smell of clove. The cocoa beans falling out and releasing sweet fragrances.
I saw Gloria sitting on her window, longing for passion and a man willing to defy the most powerful man in town just for a night in her bed. I saw Mundinho Falcao arriving with progress to Ilhéus. I saw Gabriela hips dancing as she walked and her beautiful cinnamon-colored skin and the red rose she left on Nacib’s bar at lunchtime.
“Gabriela, Clove and Cinnamon” by Jorge Amado was a feast for my senses.
Even as I keep my fingers holding the last pages of the book to use the Brazilian-terms glossary, going back and forth to understand the food, the drinks and the people of the interior of Brazil, I am enchanted by the colors distilling from this novel. They truly project inside of me with ochre tones, a wide array of yellows, oranges and greens that take me back to another time– a land stained by jagunços were love can truly flourish.
Nacib and Gabriela make me a believer. There is nothing better to make you feel just plain, good inside as a love story. And even more when the characters are from different social levels and manage to put that aside and let loose a passion that is marked and stained by the events brought by progress in Ilhéus.
I am really longing to feel the weight of someone’s leg on my tights while I sleep. Having someone call me “Bié.”
My blog is all about spreading some insight about great books. “Gabriela, Clove and Cinnamon” by Jorge Amado is by far one of the greatest love stories I have ever lived. I am sure I will be writing more about this book soon after I am done with the last chapter. I got a little ahead of myself, but my fingers could literally not wait any longer to broadcast the feel-good sense of satisfaction this book brought to my life.