homs_dream's review against another edition
4.0
مؤلمة وممتعة ومضحكة ومبكية معاً
رسائل من "إيما" إلى صديقها " خيرمان" تحكي له فيها رحلتها الصعبة مذ كانت طفلة تعيش مع أناس غرباء، مروراً بدخولها دير الراهبات، والتفاصيل التي جرت لها خلال 15 سنة إقامة حتى خروجها منه إلى باريس.
تتلمس فيها براءة الطفولة، والعذاب التي لاقته، والشقاء الذي رافقها طوال مسيرتها، وحجم المعاناة التي لازمتها.
تقول: "قد تعجب لقدرتي على سرد تفاصيل الحوادث التي جرت في تلك الحقية البعيدة كل البعد، بهذا القدر من الدقة. وأوافقك في ما ذهبتَ إليه، ذلك أنّ طفلاً في الخامسة من العمر لن يتذكر طفولته لاحقاً بمثل هذا الوضوح ما دام قد عاش حياة طبيعية. أما أنا وإيلينا فنذكر طفولتنا وكأنها كانت اليوم، وليس في وسعي أن أشرح لك السبب. لم تغبْ عنا تفصيلة واحدة، لا اللفتات ولا الكلمات ولا الأصوات ولا الألوان، بل يبدو لنا كل شيء جلياً".
هذا الاعتراف يجعلني أصدق -نوعاً ما- دقة التفاصيل التي سردتها المؤلفة لطفولتها المعذّبة.
رسائل من "إيما" إلى صديقها " خيرمان" تحكي له فيها رحلتها الصعبة مذ كانت طفلة تعيش مع أناس غرباء، مروراً بدخولها دير الراهبات، والتفاصيل التي جرت لها خلال 15 سنة إقامة حتى خروجها منه إلى باريس.
تتلمس فيها براءة الطفولة، والعذاب التي لاقته، والشقاء الذي رافقها طوال مسيرتها، وحجم المعاناة التي لازمتها.
تقول: "قد تعجب لقدرتي على سرد تفاصيل الحوادث التي جرت في تلك الحقية البعيدة كل البعد، بهذا القدر من الدقة. وأوافقك في ما ذهبتَ إليه، ذلك أنّ طفلاً في الخامسة من العمر لن يتذكر طفولته لاحقاً بمثل هذا الوضوح ما دام قد عاش حياة طبيعية. أما أنا وإيلينا فنذكر طفولتنا وكأنها كانت اليوم، وليس في وسعي أن أشرح لك السبب. لم تغبْ عنا تفصيلة واحدة، لا اللفتات ولا الكلمات ولا الأصوات ولا الألوان، بل يبدو لنا كل شيء جلياً".
هذا الاعتراف يجعلني أصدق -نوعاً ما- دقة التفاصيل التي سردتها المؤلفة لطفولتها المعذّبة.
annabookbananza's review against another edition
5.0
Book about her time growing up and going to a convent
She escaped in the end. The stuff she went through was awful. No parents, caretaker left them at a train station. Harrased, abused, starved. It was interesting to learn about someone's life that is worse than yours. Makes you appreciate things more.
She escaped in the end. The stuff she went through was awful. No parents, caretaker left them at a train station. Harrased, abused, starved. It was interesting to learn about someone's life that is worse than yours. Makes you appreciate things more.
memita's review against another edition
4.0
Um livro controverso dentro da minha cabeça, enquanto que acredito nas memórias da artista e lhe louvo a capacidade de renascer em liberdade, também questiono a sua capacidade para gravar na memória tantas situações e tão pormenorizadamente, desde muito pequena (quatro ou cinco anos). O que ela conta nas cartas dirigidas ao seu amigo é um mundo quase surreal, as condições em que viveu em pequena, no meio da miséria e na ausência de amor, e, mais tarde, no convento são tão horrendas e injustas que a minha reacção no final de cada carta era de frustação e choque. Estas memórias são a única fonte para entender as raízes da autora, muito pouco se sabe do seu passado, mas a própria também não teve interesse em contar ou explicar o que aconteceu depois dos factos da última carta. Sinto falta desse "depois", que contaria daí até ela se mudar para a Europa e se tornar reconhecida. Gostaria de ter mais informação, mas também gostaria de ter mais "Emma Reyes", a pessoa que está a escrever as cartas, porque a sua visão do passado é única, ela não fala com remorsos ou com revolta, apenas conta o que lhe aconteceu do ponto de vista da criança que foi e no mundo em que viveu. Ou seja, não temos correlação com o presente e não ficamos a saber mais do que o seu passado. Já referi que este não teve flores, bem pelo contrário; no entanto, a sua narração dos factos é extramente engraçada, não sei se era essa a sua intenção, fazer humor enquanto contava ao seu amigo as suas desgraças (parece-me que não), mas o certo é que ri várias vezes. Para concluir, não é o meu livro favorito de não ficção, mas gostei muito desta leitura, diferente, difícil e penosa.
cincominuticos's review against another edition
4.0
Cuando empecé el libro lo primero que advertí es lo sencillo en la redacción y el estilo, sin acudir a recursos mayores porque, en todo caso, a un amigo le cuentas las cosas simplemente como son, sin adornos.
La historia se limita a los recuerdos de infancia de la pintora sin que medien análisis o reflexiones de por medio, lo cual es bastante justo; recuerdos, por cierto, perturbadores, desgarradores, con los que no puede uno dejar de imaginarse en sus zapatos.
Las cartas permiten tener impresiones sobre las costumbres de la época, los estándares sociales de entonces, sentir lo cotidiano, el diario vivir de los pueblos y ciudades y, particularmente, la operación de un convento que mantiene a sus huérfanas, pero no las educa con nada distinto al temor de Dios y del diablo.
Gran material.
La historia se limita a los recuerdos de infancia de la pintora sin que medien análisis o reflexiones de por medio, lo cual es bastante justo; recuerdos, por cierto, perturbadores, desgarradores, con los que no puede uno dejar de imaginarse en sus zapatos.
Las cartas permiten tener impresiones sobre las costumbres de la época, los estándares sociales de entonces, sentir lo cotidiano, el diario vivir de los pueblos y ciudades y, particularmente, la operación de un convento que mantiene a sus huérfanas, pero no las educa con nada distinto al temor de Dios y del diablo.
Gran material.
ronanmcd's review against another edition
5.0
A bewitching book of stunning simplicity. She simply recounts in vivid detail her tough childhood.
But the spare prose is glorious.
It leaves you wanting so much more - this is a woman who turned all that around, coming from nothing and eventually living on different continent among the highest society.
But the spare prose is glorious.
It leaves you wanting so much more - this is a woman who turned all that around, coming from nothing and eventually living on different continent among the highest society.
vaticerratic's review against another edition
Truly unlike any other book I've read. A memoir of a hardknock but spectacular and almost enchanted childhood, with something like the dimensions of a Roald Dahl story.
When I went to Colombia for the first time this summer, I asked my colleague Catalina for reading recommendations about her country. She in turn graciously solicited recommendations from her friends, which I compiled into a big list. I'm slowly working myself through it and this book was on that list.
Emma Reyes was a 20C Colombian artist who based herself in Europe as an adult. She was admired as a story teller and was encouraged by some famous friends (like Gabo) to write her life's story.
This memoir arrives like a message in a bottle. It's compiled from letters that she wrote her friend Germán Arciniegas who published them after her death. She must have known they would be turned into a book. They form a continuous, linear narrative, as though she knew she were sending her friend one chapter at a time. There's even very little of the phatic function you normally see in letters ("I'm sorry I haven't written in so long," "I hope your family is well," etc.).
But there's still something mysterious about the text. The young Emma is abandoned by a series of caretakers, with only her sister Helena as a constant in her life. Naturally she indicates the size of this pain in the book. But something about the style is matter of fact and even ironic in a way that actually transforms the subject matter into something fantastic, as though a universe that was so cruel must also possess a degree of unreality.
Thus, tableaux that could almost be tall tales: for instance the sisters spend many years in a nunnery that's essentially a factory for indigent girls to work as laundresses and embroiderers. Multiple giant padlocked doors separate them from the outside world. When they first enter, a flood of girls comes rushing down the halls at them and she and her sister are separated like the victims of a shipwreck in rapids. Right away they meet a nun who was cursed to be fat by a cruel erstwhile love interest, and who the inhabitants of the cloister now believe must continue to eat and stay fat or else people will die. You get the picture.
Most of the letters are written within the space of just a few years (69-72 it seems, though not all of them are dated). It appears that they get shorter and more infrequent as time goes on, and they wrap up leaving so many questions unanswered: How does she transition to adulthood? How does she wind up in Europe and what is her life like there? Does she ever see Helena, or anyone from her childhood, again?
The framing of the story, and especially the ending, is maddeningly elliptical. It seems that the same narrative economy driving Reyes to withhold commentary on some of the horrific things that happen to her also keeps her from telling a story beyond the one she's assigned herself: the memorialization of an extremely marginal childhood, mostly absurd though with significant moments of pathos. Frustrating, tantalizing, hilarious in ways that make you feel guilty for laughing, about as perfect of a thing as exists in our fallen world.
When I went to Colombia for the first time this summer, I asked my colleague Catalina for reading recommendations about her country. She in turn graciously solicited recommendations from her friends, which I compiled into a big list. I'm slowly working myself through it and this book was on that list.
Emma Reyes was a 20C Colombian artist who based herself in Europe as an adult. She was admired as a story teller and was encouraged by some famous friends (like Gabo) to write her life's story.
This memoir arrives like a message in a bottle. It's compiled from letters that she wrote her friend Germán Arciniegas who published them after her death. She must have known they would be turned into a book. They form a continuous, linear narrative, as though she knew she were sending her friend one chapter at a time. There's even very little of the phatic function you normally see in letters ("I'm sorry I haven't written in so long," "I hope your family is well," etc.).
But there's still something mysterious about the text. The young Emma is abandoned by a series of caretakers, with only her sister Helena as a constant in her life. Naturally she indicates the size of this pain in the book. But something about the style is matter of fact and even ironic in a way that actually transforms the subject matter into something fantastic, as though a universe that was so cruel must also possess a degree of unreality.
Thus, tableaux that could almost be tall tales: for instance the sisters spend many years in a nunnery that's essentially a factory for indigent girls to work as laundresses and embroiderers. Multiple giant padlocked doors separate them from the outside world. When they first enter, a flood of girls comes rushing down the halls at them and she and her sister are separated like the victims of a shipwreck in rapids. Right away they meet a nun who was cursed to be fat by a cruel erstwhile love interest, and who the inhabitants of the cloister now believe must continue to eat and stay fat or else people will die. You get the picture.
Most of the letters are written within the space of just a few years (69-72 it seems, though not all of them are dated). It appears that they get shorter and more infrequent as time goes on, and they wrap up leaving so many questions unanswered: How does she transition to adulthood? How does she wind up in Europe and what is her life like there? Does she ever see Helena, or anyone from her childhood, again?
The framing of the story, and especially the ending, is maddeningly elliptical. It seems that the same narrative economy driving Reyes to withhold commentary on some of the horrific things that happen to her also keeps her from telling a story beyond the one she's assigned herself: the memorialization of an extremely marginal childhood, mostly absurd though with significant moments of pathos. Frustrating, tantalizing, hilarious in ways that make you feel guilty for laughing, about as perfect of a thing as exists in our fallen world.