INCANTATION

A PRE-READING PHASE

 UNLOCKING OF THE DIFFICULTIES (VOCABULARY)

(20 WORDS W/ MEANING)
1. Inquisition- A period of prolonged and intensive questioning or investigation.
2. Reverberation – Resonance
3. Bloodlust – Uncontrollable desire to kill or maim others.
4. Heresy – Belief or opinion contrary to orthodox religious.
5. Prose – Written or spoken language in its ordinary form.
6. Nuances – A subtle difference in or shade of meaning, expression, or sound.
7. Eloquent – Fluent or persuasive in speaking or writing.
8. Evoke – Bring or recall to the conscious mind.
9. Atrocities – An extremely wicked or cruel act.
10. Congregation – A group of people assembled for religious worship.
11. Humiliation – The action of humiliating someone or the state of being humiliated.
12. Betrothed – The person to whom one is engaged.
13. Love – An intense feeling of deep affection.
14. Betrayal – The act or the result of betraying.
15. Horrific – Causing horror.
16. Destruction – The action or process of causing so much damage to something that is no longer
exists or cannot be repaired.
17. Innocent – Not guilty of a crime or offense.
18. Burden – A load, especially a heavy one.
19. Deplorable – Deserving a strong condemnation.
20. Incantation – A series of words said as a magic spell or charm.

 STRATEGIES BEFORE READING

Before reading we should be aware of the vocabulary words we may encounter. We had
to understand those certain things that might happened while we were reading. For us we did
such strategy so we cannot get bored while we were reading. First, we study what are those
things to remember and what are the lessons we may learn when we read these book. Second, we
should know how to manage our time so we won’t get bored. Third, we should discipline
ourselves. Fourth, we should limit talking to other so we can focus on reading. And lastly, we
had to be patient on what we were reading. So we can understand the thoughts and ideas of the
story.

B. READING PHASE
  EXPERIENCE IN READING

As what we had experienced while we were reading this novel was a little boring. There
are terms that we can’t understand so we used dictionary to be familiarized with those words.
But at the end of it we learned so many things about it. To be patient and never get tired of
prevailing yourself to others. Be yourself and never get yourself down even when you feel
empty.

C. BOOK REVIEW

As she did in The Foretelling, Hoffman offers another fascinating glimpse of a past
civilization - with reverberations for both past and present - in this novel set during the Spanish
Inquisition. The year is 1500 and, in the village of Enleflora where 16-year-old narrator Estrella
lives, Christians soldiers, “driven by bloodlust and evil,” crusade against all forms of heresy.
First, they burn books; next, they rob Jewish and Muslim families of their possessions, then
torture or kill them. Readers familiar with Jewish traditions may guess what Estrella does not yet
know about her family: that they are conversos , “new Christians,” a community practicing the
Jewish faith in secret. With expert pacing and lyrical prose, Hoffman lays out the clues that lead
Estrella to self-discovery while also educating readers about the nuances of the times. Early signs
point to the heroine’s best friend Catalina’s eventual betrayal of her (she invites Estrella over for
a dinner of a sausage; for instance), because she is jealous of the attentions Estrella receives from
Catalina’s cousin and fiancé, Andres. During her darkest hours, after her grandfather, mother and
brother are brutally murdered; Estrella still refuses to compromise her values or her devotion to
Andres, who returns her love despite the dangers. Even secondary and tertiary characters emerge
fully formed, while Estrella’s spare, eloquent narrative evokes her sorrow and her determination
to survive and never to forget the atrocities she has witnessed. “Even when I was an old
woman... older than the oldest raven in the sky, I’d remember everything I’d ever known and
seen,” she vows as she prepares an escape to Amsterdam.

Echoes of the Holucaust reverberate through this 16th-century tale of a young Spanish
woman who discovers through love, betrayal and tragedy that her family is secretly Jewish.
Estrella has never questioned why she’s sometimes called “Esther” at home, why her family
lights candles before dinner on Friday and other habits – until she reads a poster that describes
the practices of Jews, who hide beneath a veil of Christianity to protect themselves. Meanwhile,
a growing attachment with Andres, a neighbour, poisons her relationship with her closest friend
Catalina goes to the authorities, setting in motion a chain of arrests, mock trials and at last, a
huge auto-da-fe that leaves only Estrella and her grandmother alive. Having witnessed it all,
Estrella washes off the ashes and sets out for the New World, vowing now to let herself or her
descendants forget. More poet than historian, Hoffman focuses less on period detail than on her
protagonist’s inner life and voice; her tale therefore has a timeless quality, though because she
leaves the background vague, and also gives Estrella’s family elders mystical powers, it’s not her
most convincing outing.
 “A monster is hard to see and even harder to kill. It takes times to grow so huge, time to
crawl up into the open air. People will tell you it’s not there; you’re imagining things. But a book
is a book. Pages are pages. Hawks are hawks. Doves are doves. Hatred is always hatred.”

Estrella is Esther and her family is Marrano, caught during the Spanish Inquisition when
Spanish Jews hid their heritage camouflage as Spanish Catholics. Sixteen-year-old Estrella
knows nothing of evil or monsters, nor is she aware that anyone can suddenly become an outcast.
Estrella’s life is full of hope and dreams of a happy future with her best friend, Catalina. Both
girls have black hair and look so much alike. Catalina is the crow and Estrella is the Raven, and
the two plans, as sisters might, for the day when they will raise their children as friends. They
know each other so well – until the day the monster is brought to life in the town square.

The day soldiers came into the plaza and publicly burn a rabbi’s books is the day the
town is poisoned. It becomes dangerous and full of fearful hate, the hate often used as a
protection. The soldiers reward those who turn against neighbours as they uncover the
Conversos, who practice Judaism at home and in a church with congregation of other Conversos.
A mere accusation would suffice and seal the guilt; the accused would suffer unimaginable
punishment and humiliation.

For most of Estrella’s life she is unaware of her family’s true identity – their greatest
secret. Estrella never questions her private name (Esther), family traditions such as lighting
candles before dinner and not eating pork, or her grandfather being a teacher. But Catalina does
notice that Estrella always makes the signs of the cross backwards.

Estrella’s confidence in Catalina’s character fades when she learns that her best friend
may have turned in their neighbour, an act that leads to their deaths. Catalina is poisoned, but the
poisons becomes deadly when she realizes that her handsome betrothed had fallen in love with
Estrella. Catalina’s betrayal leads to a series of arrests with horrific consequences. Friendship
ends in tragic destruction as a new love forms, and a silly innocent girl becomes a burdened
woman carrying unbelievable responsibilities for her people.

Alice Hoffman’s story of love, friendship and betrayal is set during a deplorable period in
history, a time of religious intolerance and racial discrimination, when individuals benefited from
turning against their best friends. This cautionary tale painfully describes the haunting
consequences of Catalina’s betrayal; it advises that the monsters of hatred, intolerance and
discrimination have existed through time.

INCANTATION is such a powerful novel that it captured me from the start, seriously
wounding my heart and conscience with its affecting portrayal of Estrella.

“I am someone I would have never imagined. A secret. A dream. I am this body and soul.
Burn me. Drown me. Tell me lies. I will still be who I am. “
 My name once meant a daughter, granddaughter, friend, and sister, beloved. Now those
words mean only what their letters spell out: Star in the night sky. Truth in the darkness. Catalina
was her childhood best friend. They lived in a tiny village in Spain but it is gone now, but then it
was called Encaleflora – the name of the lime flower, something bitter and something sweet
mixed into one. It was the town that had been my family’s home for more than five It was the
town that had been my family’s home for more than five It was the town that had been my
family’s home for more than five hundred years, a beautiful village in the most beautiful
countryside in all of Aragon.

There’s a fire happened along the plaza, Catalina run there to see what’s happening.
Catalina was always curious, always fun. She had a laugh reminded of the sound of water. She
was shorter than Estrella. Her hair was too curly and her nose was so bumpy, they thought they
were sisters. They are so close nothing could come between them. They were best friends since
they were babies. Because of their jet-colored hair, they had given similar pet names as little
girls. Estrella was Raven and Catalina as the Crow.

On the burning day in the plaza they raced down where they’ve always fetch water. There
was a well in the center of the plaza. It was sweet and clear and so cold it made them shiver. In
the North, stood the Duke’s palace. The palace was empty, except for the soldiers’ barracks and
the center where letters could be posted. People said the ghost of the Duke came down to drink
cold, clear water on windy nights and that you could hear him if you listened carefully.

One day, Estrella saw a man with a red circle on his coat, crying. He had a long beard
like his grandfather. The crying man was begging the soldiers not to throw his books on the fire,
and they were laughing at him. The old man is from Alajama – part of the town where Jews lived
that some called the Juderia. They were not allowed to go there, because they were Christians.
Her mother, Abra, taught her that all people are made from the same dust. When the days here
are gone, all men and women enter the same garden. Lessons that sounded as though they would
be easy, but which turned out to be difficult. How to look at stars and know their names. How to
gaze into a bowl of water until it was possible to see all that existed in that one small bowl. Her
mother was known for the yarn she sold. She had the ability to make something wondrous out of
something plain.

Even the other children called her Raven; she had often a dreamed she could fly. She
would fly until she could go no farther; so far away no one had ever been there before. In her
dreams she would enter into a garden where the roses where big enough for her to curled up as
the guards kicked her.

All that the day they could hear people shouting in the streets. Stones were thrown;
windows were smashed; the gates of the Juderia were painted red, the colour of the devil’s work.
The town father’s declared they were sick of the Jews stealing from them, although what had
been stolen was never disclosed. The Jews weren’t rich. In the walled-off section of town where
they lived, there were no lime trees, no ivy, no gardens filled with jasmine.

Her grandfather was a respected teacher. Boys in the village often came to study with
him; only the best students, the brightest boys. These students were afraid of her grandfather, as
she was, but there was something more in these boys’ eyes: they admired him. They hurried to
their lessons and bowed when her grandfather walked in the door. They huddled around him to
hear his wisdom, just as their friends did on the day of the burning.

Her older brother, Luis, was studying at the seminary. He was her grandparents’
favourite, and for good reason. Luis was compassionate and kind, a brilliant student. Being at the
seminary was an honour, and Luis had passed many difficult exams before he was chosen. Her
grandfather had helped him in his studies toward becoming a priest; he’d worked hard with Luis,
teaching him Latin and Greek.

She was only a baby when her father died. She remembered how much her mother loved
him. She still wore an emerald ring her father had given to her on their wedding day. She was
partial to emeralds; she said they were the single thing that remained constant, always green,
always the same.

Even the pigs in the yard were frightened by the noise in the Plaza. Poor Dini, her special
pet, hid under the porch. Other families killed a pig every spring to make chorizo sausages, but
her family preferred green vegetables, so Dini was getting strong and fat. Catalina and her often
snaked him into her room and let him sleep on her bed while they played with him as if they
were a doll.

Her grandfather may have ignored her completely, but her grandmother was even worse.
She noticed only what was wrong, never what was right. Her grandmother was called Carmen,
but she never thought of her as a woman with a name. She was too demanding for anything as
human as that. She called her Senora out of respect, but also out of fear. Her grandmother had
long white hair that she braided and wore up, like most women her age. She knew all the tricks a
girl might play, and she couldn’t abide laziness. Her grandmother would always be waiting
outside the window, ready to catch her when she came back. As a punishment she would have to
sweep not just the house, but also the yard where the chickens were kept.

On the side of their house was the Arriases’ cottage; on the other side lived Catalina’s
family. Catalina’s home was not as clean as they’re, or as well kept. They were no silver
candlesticks or good linens; still she preferred it. Catalina’s mother gave them almond cakes
without them even asking. Catalina’s mother told her she had nimble fingers on days she taught
them needlepoint.

Catalina’s father was a quiet man, a cobbler who sat beside a pile of boots. He was
easygoing and never raised his voiced the way her grandfather did, but Catalina looked down on
him. A man who fixed other peoples’ shoes was worthless. Catalina would someday marry her
cousin Andres, who had come to live with her family when his own parents died of fever, and
Catalina had high hopes for him.

Her grandfather called her grandmother by a special name, one her mother said she
should never repeat. The secret name sounded like glass, something broken and strange. Her
mother laughed when she once gave her impression of her grandfather calling for her
grandmother. She sounded as if she were choking.

Her grandmother love was cold because she was afraid of things; that was why
everything had to be perfect. She bowed her head and thanked her for her gift. Then, before she
could stop herself, she threw her arms around her. The pearls were her treasure and her truth, and
she would only wear them on a special days. The most important days of her life.

She had a dream and she told about it to her mother. The gate in her dream had been
made out of bones. She didn’t want to tell her that even though she’d had this dream many times,
even though the garden was always the same, the gate was always different. In every dream she
had no idea where she was. She was lost, unable to call out or find her own way. The only thing
that remained the same was the garden, lush and emerald green.

The doctors’ wife was sick with something her husband couldn’t cure despite all his
medicines. Her mother was not a doctor, but she healed with herbs and spices and chanting. She
was known for her skills, just as she was known for her beautiful yarn. She could take a spider’s
web and bind a sore so it wouldn’t become puffy and green. She knew which mushrooms in the
woods were good to eat and which ones caused aches or blindness or even death. For the
doctors’ wife, her mother had once made an amulet out of yarn and wood; the doctors’ wife had
slept with it beneath her pallet, but it had done nothing to cure her. Abra had also given the
doctors’ wife a canister of honey lavender tea that helped most ailing people with their appetite,
but every time we went to the quarter, the doctor’s wife was thinner; she was just a shadow of
herself waiting for her mother in the yard, beside the red lily. Her mother was a great healer, but
there were mysteries that meant a closed door, even to Abra.

She looked forward to going into the hills with her mother to help her collect whatever
plants she needed. They tried to go at the beginning of each lunar month at a time her mother
called by a secret name – Rosh Hodesh, the time of hope and possibility.
 “I thought I knew the world.

I thought I knew myself.

I thought I knew my dearest friend.

But I knew nothing at all.”

-ESTRELLA DEMADRIGAL
SPAIN 1500

 CZYRA MAE IBANEZ

 CLARK BALMES
 NOWELA ORTAL