In Ella Cerón's forthcoming young adult novel Viva Lola Espinoza, protagonist Lola doesn't always know what she's capable of. She's smart, she works hard, she does what's expected of her — but she doesn't truly let herself be seen. Oh, and then there's the matter of a family curse that might just prevent her from falling in love.
“She’s trying to understand why she gets in her own way,” says Cerón, a writer and former Teen Vogue editor. (Author JP Brammer, who did the cover art for Viva Lola Espinoza, is also a former Teen Vogue writer.) “A lot of Lola comes down to how we communicate — not just with each other, but the things we’re telling ourselves. Lola counts herself down and out before she can even begin a lot, and that kind of self-doubt can do a number on your psyche without you even realizing.”
Cerón calls her book a twist on Pride and Prejudice, or “Booksmart with a dash of magic,” as her publisher describes. “I love Pride & Prejudice — I always think that the misunderstandings and miscommunications between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy are so funny and surprising, no matter how many times I have read it,” she says. “I love any story with a giant, chaotic, slightly messy family that’s in everyone else’s business… Now I’m grateful that I get to contribute to the canon with Lola’s family, who tease and provoke each other in much the same way my giant Mexican family does as well.”
The process of writing the book brought her closer to her family; she would ask her dad questions about his childhood and the backstories for certain cultural norms. Growing up, Cerón spent summers in Mexico City with her grandma and aunt until she turned 15; in the years since, she's visited regularly and seen the city change over the years (and especially the huge impact of gentrification on parts of CDMX).
“I stayed at my grandma’s house for a month last summer, and learned as much about myself as I did my family and the city,” she says. “One of the big themes I tried to explore in the book is that the city is different for everyone — the Mexico City that belongs to someone who lives there may overlap with, but in a lot of ways is distinct from the city as seen by someone visiting for the first time. The Mexico City I know and love is probably somewhere in between, and it’s not far off from the one Lola experiences as well.”
Below, check out an exclusive first excerpt from Ella Cerón's forthcoming novel, Viva Lola Espinoza, now available for pre-order ahead of its release date on April 11, 2023.
Though it had been less than a week and a half since classes had let out for the summer, Lola had already gotten used to sleeping in—so that first morning, she woke up only when a pillow made contact with her ear.
“Lola, ¡ya!” Lola stirred awake to the sound of her aunt rushing around the room.
“Mari, what—”
“Late! We’re late!” Mari grabbed a pair of jeans that were hanging haphazardly out of Lola’s suitcase and threw them her way. Lola would have to talk to her about this habit of turning household objects into projectiles, no matter how soft they were. “Tengo un examen hoy. We need to go.”
Lola rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she watched Mari finish getting ready, but then it dawned on her: She had somewhere to be, too, and if Mari was late, that meant she was late. She bolted out of bed, threw on the jeans, and hunted around for her phone. Three texts from Ana and an Instagram message from Mami, none of which Lola had time to respond to. Her link to home would have to wait.
She rushed through her teeth-brushing and hair-combing in order to meet Mari in the car, where her aunt spent the whole drive muttering to herself about some legal theory that Lola didn’t dare try to translate in her head. Instead, Lola poked at the face that stared back at her in the mirror, trying to make the puffiness of sleep disappear with her fingers. There had been no time to put on any makeup, and Lola didn’t dare apply mascara while Mari was driving so erratically.
Within twenty minutes, Mari deposited Lola outside a small building nestled on a quiet street in the colonia Roma, with the words La Rosa painted above its front door. At that first family dinner, Rocío had explained that the name was in honor of la Zona Rosa, where the first La Rosa stood in la colonia Juárez, and for the matriarch who had ironically never visited.
Was it an act of defiance, then, for Juana to name her life’s work after her grandmother, or an extreme show of deference?
Obvious and unspoken homages to Rosa filled the restaurant’s main room, from the photo of her as a young girl that greeted Lola when she walked in, to the wall tiling that matched the ceramic work at her house, to the smell of dried chile and coffee that permeated the space. It was what Buela smelled like, and it was a comforting mix.
The space was only half-lit, and Lola’s eyes adjusted to the semidark as she took in the plants and portraits that filled every corner. Of particular importance was a painting of Felipe Gómez, her grandfather, who stared somberly down from over by the bar. He had died almost two decades ago, when Mari was barely old enough to walk. It struck Lola that she had never heard her grandmother talk about him.
Lola stopped in front of the portrait and tried to imagine knowing this grandfather, whose memorial was far more serious than the crinkly-eyed memories she had of her Papito. Mami rarely spoke about her father either—though Lola had a hunch that tía Coco would tell her stories if she asked. How strange it was to be related to someone you didn’t even know, Lola thought, before realizing that the not-knowing was perhaps her fault for not asking more questions. She searched his face for any resemblance to her own; from certain angles, he looked like a sterner version of tía Paty.
But similarities didn’t tell you how a person’s mood changed when they were tired, or how they preferred their eggs, or what their favorite song was when they were sad. Anyone could be related or look like someone else. It took something more to be close, to be family.
The front of the building was quiet, amplifying the sounds that came from further within the restaurant.
“¿Buenos días?” Lola called out tentatively.
A boy stepped out of a back doorway. He beamed at her the way only strangers can smile at other strangers, his curls partially obscured under a beanie. Several organs in Lola’s body threatened to flip themselves inside out.
“Tú eres la prima de Juana, ¿no?” he asked.
A crash sounded in the room behind him—the kitchen, Lola suspected—but the boy didn’t turn his attention away. He was the most beautiful boy Lola had ever seen up close. He had high cheekbones and dark eyebrows that framed green eyes, which were distressingly locked on Lola.
She gulped away her sudden nerves and nodded. It could barely be considered encouragement, yet it was enough for him.
“¿Qué haces aquí?”
“Lo . . . lo siento,” she offered, trying to avoid his gaze. She didn’t want to risk what would happen if they made eye contact. “Mi español es . . .” The plaster walls bounced her unsteady pronunciation back at her tauntingly.
He only smiled wider. “Ah, she’s an American.”
A beat, and then: “Well, we all are. But you are the kind that calls yourself one. A gringa.”
The comment momentarily snapped Lola out of the shock that a boy that looked like that would talk to her. She glowered before she realized what she was doing, and then immediately wondered if it was possible to disappear on the spot. Hadn’t they invented an app for that yet?
He laughed. “Okay, she doesn’t like ‘gringa,’” he observed, and straightened himself. “Hi, American. I’m Gregorio, but you can call me Río. I’m training you today. Is this your first time at La Rosa?” It was like he could crank his friendliness up at will, and his voice balanced on the tightrope between recitation and sincerity.
“I, uh,” she paused, trying to think about what would sound breeziest.
What would Ana say?
Probably not something that required an inner monologue to coach yourself through.
Answer him, Lola!
“Estoy aquí para el verano,” she offered, wincing as she did so. Would he really care that she was only here for the summer? “Estás . . . Are you good friends with Juana?”
Río laughed and glanced at the clock. “Sí, algo así,” he said. “But I didn’t know Juana had a pretty American for a cousin. Better friends would share that, no?”
“So you’re enemies, then; got it,” Lola said automatically, trying not to let the fact that he might have just called her pretty short-circuit her nerve endings.
Río laughed again. He carried his beauty with confidence, the way Padilla and the soccer boys sauntered down the hallway, secure in their place at the top of the social order.
“Okay, so first lesson,” he said, standing upright. He was tall and younger than Juana, maybe eighteen or nineteen. “Come on, American, let’s get started.”
Viva Lola Espinoza comes out on April 11, 2023, and is now available for pre-order.