The rural central Mexico of Jennifer Clement's Prayers for the Stolen is a hard place--especially for the women left behind by men who have gone off to work in the United States or to chase the narco riches of the drug cartels. The harsh state of Guerrero is filled with poverty, insects, iguanas and mothers who disguise their daughters as boys to hide them from the kidnapping cartels. Ladydi Garcia Martínez, the novel's young narrator, dreams of the attractive haircuts and fashionable clothes she sees in her mother's TV shows. Occasionally, she escapes her mother's watchful eye to spend a day in the poppy and marijuana fields of the countryside with her girlfriends from their bare-bones school, but the night "belongs to the drug traffickers, the army, and the police just like it belongs to the scorpions."
Born in Connecticut, Clement grew up in Mexico City; her spare, precise prose has evolved from a portfolio of poetry and fiction largely unknown in the United States (although a previous novel, A True Story Based on Lies, was a finalist for the U.K.'s Orange Prize). Ladydi's story reflects the desolation and gruesome prospects of a poor rural Mexican girl, but it's also one of determination, resourcefulness and loyalty to family and friends. Clement doesn't blink when it comes to describing the trials of Mexico, but she does so with respect and admiration. Her Mexico is presented much like Ladydi's description of her mother's whispered reverent mention of her country: "It was as if she licked up the word off a plate." --Bruce Jacobs, founding partner, Watermark Books & Cafe, Wichita, Kan.