This is an extraordinary collection. As I read I felt like I was in the presence of a unique and creative and perceptive and restless mind. The storieThis is an extraordinary collection. As I read I felt like I was in the presence of a unique and creative and perceptive and restless mind. The stories challenged me. Frequently I found myself wondering what I was missing. But I just lived with that feeling, because it never got in the way of another feeling, the feeling of being given a gift, the gift of a new way of seeing, a new way of perceiving the world, a new way of thinking about language and its intentions. Of being in the company of a very unusual person, someone with unique perspectives. One thing I never felt was that Pitol was trying to make things easy for me. I needed to be an equal partner. I needed to pay attention. I was deeply rewarded....more
Hmm, okay, reading this book was something like being continuously nudged in the ribs by somebody worrying I hadn't appreciated the joke enough, untilHmm, okay, reading this book was something like being continuously nudged in the ribs by somebody worrying I hadn't appreciated the joke enough, until my ribs were covered over with tiny purple bruises...more
The writing felt a little lazy to me, and the story too, where I could predict word and sentence and plot points before they happened. Neither realistThe writing felt a little lazy to me, and the story too, where I could predict word and sentence and plot points before they happened. Neither realistic enough nor poetic enough--it landed somewhere in a muddled middle....more
I've read of political violence and state terrorism before, but not from within such a female perspective. Early on a woman leaves her family to becomI've read of political violence and state terrorism before, but not from within such a female perspective. Early on a woman leaves her family to become a resistance fighter and it occurred to me while reading it that I had read so many times of a man going off to war while the woman stays home with the children, a trope so often repeated that it feels natural, and yet here the woman goes, and she is so much a mother, and her choice feels wrenching and unnatural, part of the terror of the times. All of the violence written here is projected through women's bodies, and women's thoughts, and the violences wreaked upon these women are connected, in their thoughts, with their families, and their children--and this depiction of violence through a woman's perspective again feels different from descriptions of men subject to violent acts, in other books, where the violence often seems to be directed against a single individual at a time, not a family; not a net of relationships. The women here are always thinking of their relationships with others, even in the most extreme circumstances. Moving, disturbing, and fragmentary....more
I had a lot of fun reading these stories. The titular story comes first and was a romp of a farce but it also said a lot about that peculiar experiencI had a lot of fun reading these stories. The titular story comes first and was a romp of a farce but it also said a lot about that peculiar experience of visiting a foreign country, and finding yourself surrounded by foreign people who act strangely, except they're not strange at all, that's you, you're the foreigner. Other stories are more surreal and disturbing. I took my time reading these and enjoyed the collection very much that way, as something that I could dip into when I didn't know what to read next, and know that I would always be surprised....more
As I was reading Seeing Red I had a sudden vivid wish to gather some women writers together who i realize have similar energy and similar honesty in tAs I was reading Seeing Red I had a sudden vivid wish to gather some women writers together who i realize have similar energy and similar honesty in their writing as Lina Meruane has in her writing, and whose writing is, like hers, brutally physical--by which I mean, not violent, but even so, deeply felt in the body. There is no distance at all in their writing. They write about blood and love and life and death.
Seeing Red begins, literally, with blood and love, in medias res, at a party, where the protagonist--who has been told by her doctor that any pressure at all--too hard a cough, or just bending over--might cause the diseased blood vessels in her eyes to burst and cause blindness--has just moved the wrong way, and then watches her eye as it fills with blood from the inside and her vision darken. From the outside there is no sign of her injury. Her lover doesn't understand why she stumbles, not at first--he thinks she is drunk.
The voice of this novel is detached in a way that adds to its nearly unbearable pathos rather than creating distance. In this way it reminds me of Lorrie Moore's voice in the story "People Like That Are the Only People Here," and indeed along with Meruane, Lorrie Moore is one of the writers I would invite to this imaginary gathering, as well as Guadalupe Nettel, author of The Body Where I Was Born, another short vivid novel about the particular physicalities of of living inside a female body, and Maggie Nelson would be there, too, because Meruane's writing also reminds me of The Argonauts, for its relentless focus on the difficulties of love between consenting, flawed adults. And Maylis de Kerangal, author of the novel I just read, The Heart, would be there, too, because her novel, like Meruane's, is a fearless examination of the terrors of living inside a broken body.
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