That Pat Mora arranges her memoir House of Houses according to a Western secular calendar seems apparent at first browse. At first reading, however, this orderly notion of a representative year breaks down, for book begins not with January or even with a preface or introduction, but with a title chapter. Immediately, therefore, essentiality of Western calendar comes into question. The title chapter establishes that Mora will shed restrictions of time and logic: her is a dream in which dead walk alongside living, past is simultaneous with present, and future is so certain that she can name grandchildren yet to be conceived. Why, then, should Mora impose a calendar at all? An answer is suggested in past comments by Mora herself. During an interview conducted by Elisabeth Mermann-Jozwiak and Nancy Sullivan, Mora reiterates her fascination with concepts of and geography as they help define a person's psychological landscape, a zone she refers to as internal rooms, issues of or the world of dreams, mental space (145). In House of Houses, she interjects time into definition of this region. In response to her own query, How much does our know that we know not? (2), she declares that inner body, of self, knows all because psyche remembers all. Through generations, she writes, sun, wind, rain, hands, voices, and dreams create and alter this place pregnant with possibilities in a landscape as familiar to me as my body (4). Fluid and accepting, inner carries one's knowledge as well as one's still unsettled questions. Within it, people, stories, fears, joys, doubts, and certainties of many lives rise bidden and unbidden to surround, interpret, and absorb a new experience. This house is repository for all that creates a sense of heritage, belonging, and identity. Mora further concludes that people both influence and are influenced by psychological construct in which they are raised. The of self is a living, reciprocating entity impervious to time, a grouping that nest[s] like bodies inside one another (3). The notions that time is concentric rather than linear and that all of our past is simultaneously available to us are reiterated throughout House of Houses by foregrounding of landscape and generations. Insisting that we internalize our pasts, Mora writes, the landscape imprints itself; and when we can't see world that is home ... we yearn to see shapes and vistas that live in our interior (25). Viewing her family as a house in her imagination, she describes a home of concentric design. Orchards surround this home, which itself presents a smooth adobe wall to outside but allows guests to penetrate increasingly more intimate zones until they reach very heart of family. In this house, rooms open onto a covered porch, which in turn opens onto a garden, which in turn surrounds family life source, a central fountain. The internal sphere is a separate world of flowing water, living greenery, shifting shade, and timeless intimacy: a personal space, womb of family. Investigating such a presents a significant writing challenge. Mora's readers, receptive as they may be, live outside her and must be invited in before they can learn its geography. Even as they learn to accept cumulative presence of people and influences in her inner world, they need to know which characters and events preceded others. Mora must consolidate her extended family even while she preserves family's numerous personalities; their ethnic, social, religious, and political diversity; their sometimes polarized generations; their gender issues; and their levels of information and misinformation. She has to demonstrate that inner allows living and dead to exist simultaneously, for line between corporeality and spirituality is hazy there. …