Right from the beginning, I really started to feel for the narrator of the story, who shares the name of the book – Libertad. You could tell that he was really hurting – he lived with his mother and his little brother in the city dump in Guatemala, but before that, they had been driven from their village by soldiers, shortly after their father went away to go to the United States. It was just so much to befall one young man, never mind the whole family – your heart just ached for them when you read the details of their existence in the dump.
When I picked up this book, I didn’t think that I had read it before. About halfway through, though, I realized that most of the stories sounded really familiar, and I soon figured out that this was a re-read. Still not sure when I read it, but it was likely for a university course in my undergrad.