I always enjoy books that take you to another place. A kind of writing that awakens your senses with the smells and sounds of another time and environment. Esmerelda Santiago's "When I Was Puerto Rican" did just that. Santiago's incredibly descriptive and beautiful memoir transports you to Puerto Rico during the 1950s, where she writes about her childhood, growing up mostly in the beauty of rural countryside. Santiago writes from a child's perspective, digesting the complexities of the situations around her (her father's betrayal of her mother, the anger, and then the reconciliation through the form of yet another sibling) in a way that is humorous and blatantly honest.

The book opens up with the intricacies of how to spot and devour ripe guava - what it feels like and what it should taste like. The beautiful pockets of images that she paints for us create a familiar bond to the people and the place. But the bright and warm images of Puerto Rico from the first half of the book take a drastic turn when Santiago's mother decides to bring her seven children to live in New York. There's a dramatic shift in language and imagery that leaves you feeling homesick.

I thought this was a wonderful story of identity and culture told through the eyes of child. This was also a story that many individuals have lived: the story of coming to America to find something better. In that process, however, the life you left an ocean away soon becomes something foreign, something lost. We become not one thing, but many -- a mixed barrel of pieces that transcend language, culture and country.

To find out more about Esmerelda Santiago and her other works, click here.