NEVER THROUGH MIAMI

Elías Sandoval, the anxious protagonist of Quesada's charming, lighthearted short novel, is sweating bullets as he stands before curt immigration officials at Miami International Airport in a valiant attempt to get a six-month visa into America. With $60 in his pocket, a one-way plane ticket and dreams of finding fame as a sculptor, Elías smooth talks his way past security checkpoints into America, gets a job waiting tables in New York City and moves in with friend Mario, a photographer and fellow immigrant. He's left his irritable songbird of a girlfriend behind in Honduras with the promise that he'll send for her when he gets settled. Helena frets that she'll end up like her scorned mother, Dina, and suffer the "curse of Perestroika"—when a Latino man leaves his wife for America and never contacts her again—still, both mother and daughter visualize the "greatest dream: to see Miami." Helena and Dina get desperate when Elías's phone calls become hurried and infrequent, and they hatch a plan to get Helena to the U.S. by any means necessary. Meanwhile, Laura, a fellow restaurant worker, has caught Elías's eye, and his first Manhattan art gallery exhibition (and the novel's only implausible scene) is a monetary success. Elías finally finances Helena's flight to the States, but her faith in him has vanished, and she herself vanishes too upon her arrival in Miami. Some of the dialogue can be didactic, but that's a minor stumble in this amusing story bolstered by its knowledgeable meditations on the Central American immigration experience. Quesada's energetic prose makes this a swift, pleasing read—and nice reinforcement for anyone doubting the hopes and dreams powering America and its melting-pot population. (Mar.)