Rogelia's House of Magic by Jamie Martinez Wood, Jamie Martinez Wood

From the Publisher

IN ROGELIA’S HOUSE OF MAGIC, three different 15-year-old girls find friendship and special powers as they are trained in the ways of the curandera by a wise old woman.
When Rogelia becomes a maid at Marina Peralta’s home, it’s obvious to Marina and her friend Fern that they have a real mystic on their hands. Soon Rogelia agrees to teach the girls the magic of their ancestors, much as she taught her granddaughters, Xochitl and Gracielia. Even though Marina and Fern are thrilled to have this chance to understand and use their powers, Xochitl isn’t happy about sharing such a sacred thing with anyone but her sister, who perished in a car accident. Besides, magic has let Xochitl down before. Why wouldn’t it now? But, as the girls will eventually discover, at Rogelia’s House of Magic anything is possible.

KLIATT

Parents who hated Harry Potter because of its reliance on magic will also hate this book. In actuality, this novel is more chica lit about spoiled Latino girls who dress in name-brand clothing, obsess over nail polish, and don't seem to have much better to do than attempting to cast spells with sometimes dire and unexpected results, until a true wise old woman takes them in hand. In doing so, they befriend the maid of a social-climbing Mexicana real estate agent and her devastated granddaughter whose identical twin has just been killed. All three girls have magical powers like becoming invisible, seeing auras, and hearing voices of the dead. One could argue that this book celebrates Mexican culture, i.e., the healing arts as practiced by wise curanderas, but on the other hand, it's so silly and well, boring (except maybe if you're a teenage Latino girl aspiring to be a material girl in America, and you think a little benign magic wouldn't hurt) that it doesn't exactly inspire awe at the Mexican tradition. This book comes complete with recipes at the end for a few homemade spells if the reader is "a beginner and a believer." These spells are so devoid of any "harmful content" that they're not much different than advertisements in Seventeen, inasmuch as one incantation is for "silky smooth skin." One is for "charging a crystal wand" (Why? Not explained), and one for gaining confidence, which the believer does by chanting, "I believe in myself to do what I must do." Sound familiar? Like maybe Tony Robbins, a well-known Mexican curandera, and writer of many best-selling self-help books. Reviewer: Myrna Marler

School Library Journal

Gr 7-10

Set in Southern California, this novel is about three teens who find a common bond and grow in their relationships as they learn the healing arts from a curandera (folk healer). Marina, from a newly wealthy Hispanic family, struggles with her mother's insistence that she forget her Mexican heritage and barrio roots. Fern, whose Colombian family still lives in the old neighborhood, is a free spirit who has trouble trusting a potential boyfriend. When Rogelia Garcia, a wise curandera from Mexico, becomes the maid at Marina's house, the girls befriend her granddaughter, Xochitl, who grieves for the twin sister she recently lost in a tragic accident. Rogelia takes the girls on as apprentices and helps them to understand and control their innate magical powers (Marina hears voices from the beyond, Fern sees auras, and Xochitl has the ability to disappear) while teaching them that by caring for and healing others, they can help and heal themselves. The narrative is well written and descriptive, incorporating Spanish phrases that are easy to understand in context and add flavor to the telling. The characters and their relationships with others are solidly developed. The novel will appeal to readers interested in magic and astrology, and several spells are appended (charging a crystal wand, a confidence incantation, etc.).-Lorraine B. Wiener, Inglewood High School, CA

Kirkus Reviews

Three teen girls with psychic powers learn the art and hidden dangers of curandernismo. Wealthy Marina, who hears the voices of an older woman and a girl in her head, wants to learn more about her Mexican heritage. Her best friend Fern can see people's auras and wants to use her powers to save the planet. Their instructor is Marina's housekeeper, the wise and loving Rogelia, who has instructed her teenage granddaughter Xochitl for years in the ways of energy manipulation. Marina and Fern work to draw Xochitl out of her shell, and the three grow close as they encounter crushes, family traumas and spells gone wrong. The dialogue is natural and the girls' unwavering friendship will inspire readers. The narration, however, is slow, clunky and overdone, full of cliches and descriptions that the reader has seen many times before. While it conveys the beauty of Mexican culture and the seriousness of magical undertakings, the book ultimately fails to engage. (Fantasy. 12 & up)

• Read an Excerpt

Read an Excerpt

Marina Peralta stared out the passenger-side front window of her mother’s Infiniti SUV as it pulled into the driveway of a canary yellow A-frame where her best friend, Fernanda Fuego, lived. Between the wild mix of luscious flowers in the front yard and the bright colors trimming the house, it seemed like the Fuego family used nearly every color Crayola ever invented to decorate. Marina looked longingly at the powder blue and white house next door, with its relatively boring agapanthus-filled garden. She remembered how she used to peer out its upstairs window at the eclectic neighborhood.

“I miss living here sometimes,” Marina said wistfully. She twirled the ends of her long brown hair and stared reflectively at the porch swing where she and Fern had gobbled down ice cream cones nearly every summer night.

“How could you miss living in the barrio?” Marina’s mother asked as she lay on the horn, causing Marina to flinch. “I worked hard to get us out of this neighborhood, and I don’t want you spending any more time here than you have to.”

Five years ago, Marina’s mother, Rebecca, had become an instant success as a real estate agent. She uprooted the family, consisting of Marina; her younger sisters, Monica and Samantha; and their stepfather, Steve Michelson, to an upper-middle-class section of Orange Olive at the base of the prestigious Peralta Hills. For the most part, Marina liked her new neighborhood—every yard was immaculate, there was a pool in her backyard, and a gorgeous gate marked the entrance of the subdivision—but it was also kind of sterile and a little too perfect. She missed the cozyfeel of her old neighborhood.

Marina twiddled the drawstrings of her khaki miniskirt and frowned at the seagull appliqué on her Hollister tank top to keep from saying anything. She didn’t dare give the answer she wanted to give. The retort at the tip of her tongue would have started an argument, at that moment, Fernanda came bounding out of her house.

“I’m ready!” Fernanda called as she ran down the bright red porch steps and across the lawn. Her curly shoulder-length auburn hair flopped playfully over her Plimsouls T-shirt, a tribute to her love of 1980s psychedelic and punk bands. She opened the car door, held on to her paisley wraparound skirt, and slid into the backseat. Immediately she kicked off her Birkenstock sandals. “Hey, Marina. Good afternoon, Mrs. Peralta.”

“Hey, Fern. We’ve got to pick up something before we go to my house,” Marina said.

“What do you need to pick up?” Fern asked, leaning forward from the backseat.

Marina twisted around and tugged one of Fern’s untamed ringlets. “A chart.”

Fern swatted her hand away and Marina chuckled under her breath before settling back into her seat. She had started pulling Fern’s tangle of corkscrew, cinnamon-colored curls when they were in grade school. It was the one thing Marina could do to get talkative Fern to shut up. Now that they were both fifteen, Marina just did it to annoy her.

“What kind of chart?” Fern asked.

“An astrological chart,” Marina’s mother answered as they cruised down the streets of Orange County, California, looking for a specialty store among the historic brick storefronts. “And I need you to run in and get it for me, Marina.”

“Mom!” Marina protested.

“I need to pick up the special invitation paper for your Grandpy’s birthday party, and this will save me time,” Marina’s mother said.

Marina glared out the window, frustration clouding her big brown eyes. She hated it when her mom sent her on errands, especially when it came to goofy ones like fetching an astrology chart. What if she said something stupid and embarrassed herself? Marina twisted her hair at the nape of her neck and got one of her many silver rings caught in a knot of her unbrushed mane. Impervious to the pain, she yanked her finger free along with several long light brown strands.

“It makes me so mad every time I pass through here,” Marina’s mother said suddenly as she navigated a roundabout known as the Orange Circle. At the center was a circular park with a fountain, benches, and tall cypress trees. The Orange Circle was intersected by two streets, Glassell and Chapman.

“Not again,” Marina moaned. She had heard her mother’s rant about their family’s glory days way too often. Her mother took every possible opportunity to gloat about being Spanish and yet despised anything that connected her to Mexican roots, especially the barrio. Marina didn’t quite understand the difference.

Marina’s mother ignored her daughter and looked in the rearview mirror at Fern. “Our Spanish ancestors, José Antonio Yorba and Juan Pablo Peralta, built a very successful ranching business with the land grant they received from the king of Spain.”

“Over two hundred years ago,” Marina grumbled.

“They lost all of it when California became a state,” Marina’s mother continued. “Then those damn gringo lawyers Chapman and Glassell stole our land.”

“Here we are,” Marina said in a forced lighthearted tone, pointing at a store with floor-to-ceiling windows and a large wooden sign with the words moonlight midwifery painted in dark blue calligraphy next to a crescent moon.

Marina’s mother pulled into a space in front of the shop.

“Oooh, look at the crystals hanging from the trees! Come on, let’s go.” Fern was chomping at the bit. She dug her toes into her Birks and opened the car door.

Marina groaned softly. While she adored Fern’s wild and unpredictable nature, Fern often got the two of them into trouble that Marina had to bail them out of with a combination of cleverness and false bravado. Marina liked adventures, too, as long as her mother didn’t find out about them.