The Yellow Ranch by Kali Fajardo-Anstine, 2020
The magic trick:
Layering questions of cultural identity over a traditional haunted house story
Welcome to another month of scary stories.
We begin with a chilling spin on the haunted house story.
The chill? The spin? Men.
In this book, one pretends to be a mentor. Another pretends to be a charming romantic.
They both are awful.
The story makes that clear and makes it appropriately scary.
These elements alone would be enough to make for a successful work of art. But this one goes a layer deeper. Our protagonist’s visit to the yellow ranch is supposed to help her get closer to her heritage. So there is an entire other level of the story: what the men’s actions imply about cultures and the modern world; what our protagonist’s actions (we also get a brief window into her life back home through flashback vignettes) say about her loss of cultural community.
There is a lot more here than mere haunted house.
And that’s quite a trick on Fajardo-Anstine’s part.
The selection:
“I’d love to learn about your background.” It was Arturo, vivid. “Shall we get coffee?”
Tasha peered upward, keeping her eyes halfway hidden beneath clumped-mascara. “Now?”
Arturo ordered their drinks, paid, and selected their seats—outside, away from others, cherry blossoms blowing through the air. What was she was studying? Could he see her work? What a fine eye for detail. She should have applied to the ivies, a shoo-in. Tasha lowered her gaze as she smiled, felt warmth in his attention. They stayed on the patio a long while as violet-blue dusk seeped into the brick road. Tasha searched her iPhone photos for a Día de los Muertos altar, paper marigolds and brass baby shoes, an installation on the cement floor of a Denver gallery named Redline. “For my Grandma Luisa,” she finally said, revealing her screen to Arturo and leaning forward. “She left the San Luis Valley in the 1960s.”
“We could be cousins,” Arturo teased. “But I’m not related to any Espinosas. Not that I know of, at least.” He scooted his chair close. He smelled of pine. “Do you know much about the Valley?”
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