El Corazón del Daño / The Heart of Harm

La obra de Mar燰 Negroni huye de cualquier taxonom燰. Su referencia m嫳 clara podr燰 ser Anne Carson. Como ella, Negroni despliega una narrativa extremadamente l甏ica, a la vez seca, precisa y voluptuosa.

En El coraz鏮 del da隳, combina la biograf燰, la nota 璯tima, la observaci鏮 afilada y sagaz, la cr鏮ica pol癃ica, el l憖ico familiar y la canci鏮 de la desesperada. Todos los recursos para contar una vida y despedir a una madre tambi幯 desesperante, tambi幯 desesperada. Pero en la recuperaci鏮 que es todo duelo, hay una intenci鏮 novedosa: la de compartir esas experiencias y las asociaciones literarias. "Una mujer dif獳il y hermosa ocupa el centro y la circunferencia de esa casa. Tiene los ojos grandes, los labios pintados de rojo. Se llama Isabel."

Los recuerdos de esa madre que lo ocupa todo surgen n癃idos, pero para pensarlos y transmitirlos -darle la piel de las palabras- la memoria es como un objeto que hay que girar. De cada cara del prisma, un rayo de luz se descompone. O es que son una esfera? La autora va a aplastar ese material, maleable e inasible, para que quepa entre las tapas de este libro.

ENGLISH DESCRIPTION

The Heart of Harm, this literary devise, open and complex, restores the domestic dictionary of insults and threats, where words project their power of foreshadowing from the distant family home and turn dreams into nightmares.

Mar燰 Negroni's work shuns away from all taxonomies. Her most obvious reference might be Anne Carson.

In The Heart of Harm, Negroni blends biography, intimate entries, sharp and keen observation, political chronicle, family lexicon, and the song of the desperate. All the necessary resources to tell a life and bid farewell to a mother both exasperating and desperate. But in her recovery, which is nothing but grief, there's a new intention: sharing these experiences and literary associations. "A difficult and beautiful woman is at the heart and the circumference of that house. She has big eyes, lips painted red. Her name is Isabel."

Memories of that mother that takes up everything surge crystal-clear, but in order to think about them and convey them--to give her flesh from words--memory becomes an object you must rotate. From each face of the prism, a ray of light dissolves. Or is it that memory is actually a sphere? The author is going to crush that malleable and elusive matter to make it fit the covers of this book.