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A Little Luck
From the author of Elena Knows , finalist for the 2022 International Booker Prize 20 years after a shocking accident, Mary Lohan returns to the Buenos Aires suburb she escaped in a fugue of guilt and isolation. She is not the same―not her name or voice, not even the color of her eyes. The neighborhood looks different too, but she’s still the same woman and it’s still the same place, and as the past erupts into view, they slowly collide. A Little Luck is the story about the debilitating weight of lies, the messy line between bravery and cowardice, and the tragedies, big and small, that can ripple out from a single decisive event. In a place she had determined to forget forever, both anticipated encounters and unanticipated revelations show her, and us, that sometimes life is neither fate nor perhaps it’s nothing more than a little luck.
208 pages, Paperback
First published May 1, 2015
314 people are currently reading
25850 people want to read
About the author
Claudia Piñeiro
52 books2,204 followersClaudia Piñeiro is an Argentine novelist and screenwriter, best known for her crime and mystery novels, most of which became best sellers in Argentina. She was born in Burzaco, Buenos Aires province.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,513 reviews
July 19, 2021
I have always depended upon the kindness of strangers.
- Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire (1947)
I did not know where I was standing until page sixty-seventy-something of this book called Una Suerte Pequeña (A Little Luck). That usually makes me feel rather uncomfortable. It is not that I want to know everything on page one—that was a lie, my literary anxiety demands me to know everything as I open the book, can't help it, I have a problem, you know it, I know it, let's move on—, but when a book starts slow, I tend to lose my interest in it. Judge me, be my guest. I will not lie to make myself look better. For that is an exhausting task. Anyway, this book starts slow.
Delightfully
slow.
It captivated me. It unapologetically captivated me. Claudia Piñeiro manages time as she pleases. She can do anything she wants with it. She walked, I followed. Sure, cursing, asking for more details, moments, names, demanding information to ease my doubts and put my brain on hold after imagining many hypothetical scenarios... but I followed.
She kept me asking for words, context. Solve the damn thing, who are they? What is going on? Give me something I can work with!
She delivered. I waited with the fake patience of a grown-up, a cool adult, a mature reader waiting for the story like a child staring at the Christmas tree the next morning. And she gave me everything.
This is a story of a woman, Mary Lohan or Marilé Lauría or María Elena Pujol. Three names, three places in life; one person. I saw her past, I saw her forming her own family. I saw her facing tragedy, rejection, losing everything she had. I saw her separated from the one she loved the most. Being surrounded by people and realizing, years after, that she really did not have anyone but social conventions and moral cliches. I saw her running away, punishing herself, reinventing herself. Finding the kindness of a stranger that would later defy even the limits of matter. I saw her contemplating her life, beholding...
the abyss that draws or repels in a single act.
El abismo que atrae y repele en un mismo acto. (30)
...and asking herself the question that every human being asks at least once, and might be afraid of finding the answer.
¿Fui feliz alguna vez?
Have I ever been happy? (194)
I saw me. I found a bit of me in her. In María Elena, in Marilé, in Mary. The unsettling emotion is fed by the connection between the character and me.
And I know my answer.
Así sucede con los grandes personajes de la literatura, siempre encontramos un punto, una arista, un gesto donde podemos ser ellos. O al menos podemos ponernos en su lugar.
That's what happens with great characters in literature, we always find a point, a side, a gesture where we can be them. Or at least, we can put ourselves in their place. (179)
Like I said before, Piñeiro knows what to share and when. Her words drag you out of reality and make you plunge into the deep sea of her story. Her writing possesses the simplicity that conveys a whole world. The book is presented with such an original structure that you have no other choice than to suck it up, find patience and savour every word. It will not be hard. You will not be able to leave the story until it is finished. All puzzle pieces are in their place. All the clues you recollected during this journey, ready to solve the mystery, to ease the guilt, to start again. Once you open the book, you are done...
I was done. And I have cried. Twice. This book made me cry twice. I know when. I know that I was listening to the radio and I realized the presence of some tear while “(Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay” was playing (funny fate, if there is such a thing). I remember the pages. I wrote on them. I branded them. They are not mine but I feel them close. Because the writer talked to me. The echo of her voice resonated from my brain to my eyes. She talked to me. I think I would like to answer. To her. To anybody willing to listen. Quite rare these days, don't you think? Or maybe not, and I just did not have too much luck.
How many damaged people are wandering through the vastness of this Earth, longing for someone that would help them repair things before it is all broken for good? Many people are surrounded by the loud silence of loneliness, recreating in their minds a chat with a stranger. At a coffee shop. At a Japanese restaurant. At a bookshop. A conversation that leads you to a future friend. A partner. The last person you could see in your life. Some sort of happiness. A little crumb that resembles happiness. The warmth of resemblance. Redemption. Something.
No. Some things cannot be repaired only by us. No matter how much we wish they were. To find a peaceful place to fix a damaged existence, to overcome the distrust that defines this world in order to find that place in the kindness of a stranger... No, my friend, that is not a little luck.
Not a little luck, at all.
Sep 19, 15
* Also on my blog.
** Photo credit: Thinkstock Photos Chicos via Clarín.
June 16, 2017
Hay novelas a las que no les falta nada, no les sobra nada, son perfectas.
No alcanzas a describir todo lo que te provocan.
No podrías nunca terminar de agradecer su existencia.
No alcanzas a describir todo lo que te provocan.
No podrías nunca terminar de agradecer su existencia.
May 4, 2025
Something terrible happens in this book. The author doesn't tell you what it is right away, although the reader knows that it happened a few decades ago, and has deeply damaged Mary Lohan. Mary Lohan, a woman who cries, a lot.
Claudia Piñeiro tortures you with the terrible event, by giving you a paragraph here, and then building on that paragraph a few chapters later, and then more later still. Further on, you get to see the whole thing in full, from two points of view, both excruciating.
It is a clever way to reveal the facts, and to slowly grant the reader an understanding.
Mary Lohan is damaged by her past. She makes an impossible decision. Unthinkable. Something many people wouldn't survive. And yet, she has a little luck. She's alone as Blanche duBois, but she comes across kind strangers. As devastating as the past may be, there are often blessings, and Mary's life is evidence of that.
Over the course of this book, I learned a few things about me as a reader. One: I have a hard time with long paragraphs. My lazy brain needs more frequent paragraph breaks, as it turns out. Long ones leave me panting and leaning up against the side of the wall. By the time I reached the end end, I was in better shape.
Two: I have little patience for crying. Or, maybe better put, reading about crying. Mary Lohan cries a great deal, and the author doesn't really shake up the way she describes the crying either. While I know Mary has all the reasons in the universe for tears, the abundance sort of dried up some of my readerly empathy.
That's more about me than the book, though. It's a great book, a painfully great book, and one that I will remember.
4.5 stars
(Why 4.5 and not a full 5? I think for me the ending was less powerful because of the letter-writing. Letters exchanged containing things that had decades of unsaid things in them, for me, weren't as interesting or powerful than if they had been said in person.)
Claudia Piñeiro tortures you with the terrible event, by giving you a paragraph here, and then building on that paragraph a few chapters later, and then more later still. Further on, you get to see the whole thing in full, from two points of view, both excruciating.
It is a clever way to reveal the facts, and to slowly grant the reader an understanding.
Mary Lohan is damaged by her past. She makes an impossible decision. Unthinkable. Something many people wouldn't survive. And yet, she has a little luck. She's alone as Blanche duBois, but she comes across kind strangers. As devastating as the past may be, there are often blessings, and Mary's life is evidence of that.
Over the course of this book, I learned a few things about me as a reader. One: I have a hard time with long paragraphs. My lazy brain needs more frequent paragraph breaks, as it turns out. Long ones leave me panting and leaning up against the side of the wall. By the time I reached the end end, I was in better shape.
Two: I have little patience for crying. Or, maybe better put, reading about crying. Mary Lohan cries a great deal, and the author doesn't really shake up the way she describes the crying either. While I know Mary has all the reasons in the universe for tears, the abundance sort of dried up some of my readerly empathy.
That's more about me than the book, though. It's a great book, a painfully great book, and one that I will remember.
4.5 stars
(Why 4.5 and not a full 5? I think for me the ending was less powerful because of the letter-writing. Letters exchanged containing things that had decades of unsaid things in them, for me, weren't as interesting or powerful than if they had been said in person.)
May 6, 2021
Siendo sincera, no fue una historia con la que conecté inmediatamente, al inicio me resultó un poco confusa, pero eso cambió en poco tiempo y al terminarlo me quedé con la sensación de querer volver a empezar, de rescatar esos pequeños detalles que dejé ir; por eso creo que es la clase de libros que se disfrutan tres veces: la primera por la sorpresa, la segunda por captar los mensajes escondidos y la tercera, cuando se tiene la fortuna de comentarlo con más lectores, placer que tuve en el mes de marzo y los que se unieron a la lectura conjunta del #LecturistaBookcult.
Una suerte pequeña me enseñó que sanar es enfrentarnos a nuestros demonios, me confirmó que los libros son sanadores, que las personas no tienen obligación de amarte y apoyarte incondicionalmente, aunque uno crea que es parte del contrato, y sobre todo que existe en el mundo gente buena, que sin ningún compromiso estará dispuesta a darte la mano aún cuando no creas que lo necesites.
Escucha la reseña completa aquí: https://spoti.fi/3uvX9Cc
Una suerte pequeña me enseñó que sanar es enfrentarnos a nuestros demonios, me confirmó que los libros son sanadores, que las personas no tienen obligación de amarte y apoyarte incondicionalmente, aunque uno crea que es parte del contrato, y sobre todo que existe en el mundo gente buena, que sin ningún compromiso estará dispuesta a darte la mano aún cuando no creas que lo necesites.
Escucha la reseña completa aquí: https://spoti.fi/3uvX9Cc
September 22, 2024
A story of motherhood and how secrets can damage people fundamentally. Ostracism and condemnation among women are key themes, as is overcoming trauma
Motherhood is full of little failures that pass unnoticed.
Claudia Piñeiro is an excellent writer who I first came across with Booker International shortlisted Elena Knows. In A Little Luck we are presented with familiair themes, bringing alive the struggles of the main character of this book with vivid emotional intensity.
Maria Elena Pujol, Marilé Lauría or Mary Lohan, our narrator has a lot of buried history, which we uncover in a dripfeed of information that never feels sensational or just meant as a cliffhanger. A claustrophobic Argentina for women unfurls, with impossible choices unfolds. To tell much more of the plot would be to spoil the fun of discovering the landscape this novel is about.
What I can however say is that the writing is excellent (as I have come to expect from Charco Press authors in general), and contains foreshadowing: Certain facts cancel out any possibility of regret. You can either act accordingly or not act at all. What you cannot do is change the facts.
Being left alone and voiceless from a vibrant, if claustrophobic community, comes back soon as well:
Before I left Argentina, I’d never lost much voice and I’d never noticed that silence was the space I longed to inhabit.
The main character cries a lot despite her meticulously prepared arrival to the school of her youth, but to be fair she has a lot to content with, not least a broken marriage.
Forgetfulness seems like the most easy option to be able to move forward, somewhat:
Selective amnesia is what permitted us to carry on with normal life.
There is a lot of cruelty in relationships described and in general I understood the main character her trepidation and concerns better and better the more I dived into this book: You can do whatever you want. Or whatever you are capable of.
The ending, despite my review potentially sounding bleak, is actually quite hopeful on the paths open to people, even after the worst happens to them, even if reliance of others is cautioned against:
It would never be enough. It would never be fair.
If someone has to rely on the kindness of strangers it’s because the people around them aren’t people they can count on.
Motherhood is full of little failures that pass unnoticed.
Claudia Piñeiro is an excellent writer who I first came across with Booker International shortlisted Elena Knows. In A Little Luck we are presented with familiair themes, bringing alive the struggles of the main character of this book with vivid emotional intensity.
Maria Elena Pujol, Marilé Lauría or Mary Lohan, our narrator has a lot of buried history, which we uncover in a dripfeed of information that never feels sensational or just meant as a cliffhanger. A claustrophobic Argentina for women unfurls, with impossible choices unfolds. To tell much more of the plot would be to spoil the fun of discovering the landscape this novel is about.
What I can however say is that the writing is excellent (as I have come to expect from Charco Press authors in general), and contains foreshadowing: Certain facts cancel out any possibility of regret. You can either act accordingly or not act at all. What you cannot do is change the facts.
Being left alone and voiceless from a vibrant, if claustrophobic community, comes back soon as well:
Before I left Argentina, I’d never lost much voice and I’d never noticed that silence was the space I longed to inhabit.
The main character cries a lot despite her meticulously prepared arrival to the school of her youth, but to be fair she has a lot to content with, not least a broken marriage.
Forgetfulness seems like the most easy option to be able to move forward, somewhat:
Selective amnesia is what permitted us to carry on with normal life.
There is a lot of cruelty in relationships described and in general I understood the main character her trepidation and concerns better and better the more I dived into this book: You can do whatever you want. Or whatever you are capable of.
The ending, despite my review potentially sounding bleak, is actually quite hopeful on the paths open to people, even after the worst happens to them, even if reliance of others is cautioned against:
It would never be enough. It would never be fair.
If someone has to rely on the kindness of strangers it’s because the people around them aren’t people they can count on.
August 25, 2023
Claudia Piñeiro is a crime writer sensation in Argentina, and I do plan on cracking open those murder mysteries in her oeuvre. The two novels I’ve read and absolutely loved, this one and Elena Knows, are not crime novels, but she does present them in a suspenseful way for the reader. Like the narrative style of EK, Piñeiro uses first-person pov that unfolds like a confession.
Right from the start, you’re aware that she’s holding back considerable bits of information relating to the main character, even as she discloses her two identities. Until twenty years ago, she was Marilé from Buenos Aires, her home. However, she moved to Boston after a harrowing event, and subsequently became Mary Lohan. As she confesses her story, I was practically trembling. The past and present entwine seamlessly, and Mary takes us into her confidence with compelling intimacy. For me, the intensity of the tale built an atmosphere of existential dread, a danger ready to rise and roar at any moment.
Due to the wisdom of her significant other, Robert, Mary/Marilé is returning to Buenos Aires, where the traumatic incident took place--and now the telling of it, --that inevitably shows the reader how the power of storytelling can distill trauma to its essential core. The way that Piñeiro entwines past and present is one of her many skills that make her such a standout author. The architecture of A Little Luck creates a riveting page-turner for the reader. I couldn’t know details fast enough! When Mary does disclose the decisive trauma, I was already in clutch-and-gasp mode. The more nuanced that the tale unfolded, the more I found myself panic-breathing! You can’t change the past, but can you repair the damaged pieces enough to influence the future?
Piñeiro drills down to the potency of writing, of how storytelling can clarify trauma, the potential for healing and redemption through language. Robert introduces Mary to the heavies of literature, which adds to the author’s theme of reconciling through narration, while also highlighting the benefit of imbibing another culture’s adversities—how they are similar and different to your own. If nothing else, Robert aims to point Mary to a temporary exit ramp, a safe place to unleash some of her pain. Tennessee Williams, Alice Munro, Simone de Beauvoir, Hawthorne, among others, allowed Mary to observe the pain of others, and relate in a meaningful way. “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
About Munro, Robert said, “She lies truthfully, like any good writer…and if she lies truthfully, it’s because she knows what she’s talking about.”
Like Elena, Piñeiro’s latest novel is fraught with interior despair and emotional repression, but you may be more surprised here with the kernel of hope suspended in the story. The author has a keen sense of timing and knows how to restrain or expand a scene or a moment in time, and she kept me on the edge of my seat. There’s a balance of loss and redemption in these pages, or what Mary calls her “log book.” You could read this book in one sitting—I read it in two—but it felt like I lived a lifetime (or two) by the end. The finale was both riveting and satisfying.
High accolades to Frances Riddle for translating as if it were originally written in English.
Right from the start, you’re aware that she’s holding back considerable bits of information relating to the main character, even as she discloses her two identities. Until twenty years ago, she was Marilé from Buenos Aires, her home. However, she moved to Boston after a harrowing event, and subsequently became Mary Lohan. As she confesses her story, I was practically trembling. The past and present entwine seamlessly, and Mary takes us into her confidence with compelling intimacy. For me, the intensity of the tale built an atmosphere of existential dread, a danger ready to rise and roar at any moment.
Due to the wisdom of her significant other, Robert, Mary/Marilé is returning to Buenos Aires, where the traumatic incident took place--and now the telling of it, --that inevitably shows the reader how the power of storytelling can distill trauma to its essential core. The way that Piñeiro entwines past and present is one of her many skills that make her such a standout author. The architecture of A Little Luck creates a riveting page-turner for the reader. I couldn’t know details fast enough! When Mary does disclose the decisive trauma, I was already in clutch-and-gasp mode. The more nuanced that the tale unfolded, the more I found myself panic-breathing! You can’t change the past, but can you repair the damaged pieces enough to influence the future?
Piñeiro drills down to the potency of writing, of how storytelling can clarify trauma, the potential for healing and redemption through language. Robert introduces Mary to the heavies of literature, which adds to the author’s theme of reconciling through narration, while also highlighting the benefit of imbibing another culture’s adversities—how they are similar and different to your own. If nothing else, Robert aims to point Mary to a temporary exit ramp, a safe place to unleash some of her pain. Tennessee Williams, Alice Munro, Simone de Beauvoir, Hawthorne, among others, allowed Mary to observe the pain of others, and relate in a meaningful way. “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
About Munro, Robert said, “She lies truthfully, like any good writer…and if she lies truthfully, it’s because she knows what she’s talking about.”
Like Elena, Piñeiro’s latest novel is fraught with interior despair and emotional repression, but you may be more surprised here with the kernel of hope suspended in the story. The author has a keen sense of timing and knows how to restrain or expand a scene or a moment in time, and she kept me on the edge of my seat. There’s a balance of loss and redemption in these pages, or what Mary calls her “log book.” You could read this book in one sitting—I read it in two—but it felt like I lived a lifetime (or two) by the end. The finale was both riveting and satisfying.
High accolades to Frances Riddle for translating as if it were originally written in English.
August 18, 2023
O que foi isto, Claudia? Há algum tempo que não chorava a ler um livro. Uma Pequena Sorte cativa, inicialmente, pelo mistério. Queremos ler mais e mais para perceber que raio levou Mary a fugir, o que fez de tão tremendamente errado, que espécie de culpa, de responsabilidade e de dor carrega. Sabemos que é uma dor brutal, para sempre, como na citação de Alice Munro, em "O Amor de uma Boa Mulher".
"Esta é uma dor aguda. Que se tornará crónica. Crónica significa que será definitiva, embora talvez não constante. Poderá também significar que não morrerás dela. Senti-la-ás sempre, mas não morrerás disso. Não a sentirás a cada minuto, mas também não passarás muitos dias sem que volte a afligir-te."
A história de Mary é profundamente humana, expõe a vulnerabilidade de quem erra e a facilidade com que se julga. Porque poucos conseguem colocar-se na pele do outro, nos sapatos do outro. Sobretudo se o outro não for a vítima tradicional, sobretudo se for quem faz mal, quem faz o mal, ainda que só um e isolado, ainda que com circunstâncias atenuantes. Quem se colocaria nos sapatos de um criminoso? Não é tarefa fácil.
"(...) as suas frases iam e vinham dentro da minha cabeça, literalmente, palavra a palavra, mas o seu significado aparecia e desaparecia como a luz de uma lampadazinha que faz mau contacto. Deve ter sido uma forma de me proteger: se eu as tivesse apreendido e compreendido o seu significado exato, penso que teria morrido ali mesmo."
A crueldade dos mais próximos é felizmente compensada, neste livro e na vida, com a amabilidade de estranhos. Tal como em "Um Elétrico Chamado Desejo", de Tennessee Williams, citado pela autora argentina. "Reconheço que dependo cada vez mais da amabilidade de estranhos. Não basta estar rodeado de gente para não se estar só."
Uma Pequena Sorte revela também medos e anseios, a eterna indecisão entre não correr riscos ou arriscar. Correr riscos pode acarretar desilusões infindáveis, mas também pode ser a porta para a felicidade. Não arriscar mantém o futuro em suspenso, o leque pleno de possibilidades, não fecha a porta, mas também nunca a abre. E se?
"Não quero cruzar-me com ele e quero cruzar-me com ele, ao mesmo tempo, num mesmo desejo. A cobardia inclina-me para a primeira opção, a necessidade de não me pôr em risco. No entanto, qual é o verdadeiro risco? Vê-lo, cruzar-me com ele, olhá-lo nos olhos? Ou estar a poucos metros e não olhar para ele, não o procurar, não saber dele nem que seja uma última vez?"
Pode não parecer no início, mas este livro é também sobre o que cada um é capaz de fazer por amor. Ou quer fazer. Ou julga melhor. E se a pessoa amada não percebeu que foi por amor? Se não sabe porquê?
"Nem sempre uma pessoa é dona de reter a verdade, de a guardar para si. Nem sempre uma pessoa é dona do seu silêncio."
São várias as referências a outras obras (livros, filmes) feitas por Claudia Pineiro. Uma delas, que encontro com frequência entre diferentes autores, é a Wakefield, de Nathaniel Hawthorne. No fundo, todos temos curiosidade de saber o que fariam os que amamos sem nós por perto. O que seria de ti sem mim?
"Esta é uma dor aguda. Que se tornará crónica. Crónica significa que será definitiva, embora talvez não constante. Poderá também significar que não morrerás dela. Senti-la-ás sempre, mas não morrerás disso. Não a sentirás a cada minuto, mas também não passarás muitos dias sem que volte a afligir-te."
A história de Mary é profundamente humana, expõe a vulnerabilidade de quem erra e a facilidade com que se julga. Porque poucos conseguem colocar-se na pele do outro, nos sapatos do outro. Sobretudo se o outro não for a vítima tradicional, sobretudo se for quem faz mal, quem faz o mal, ainda que só um e isolado, ainda que com circunstâncias atenuantes. Quem se colocaria nos sapatos de um criminoso? Não é tarefa fácil.
"(...) as suas frases iam e vinham dentro da minha cabeça, literalmente, palavra a palavra, mas o seu significado aparecia e desaparecia como a luz de uma lampadazinha que faz mau contacto. Deve ter sido uma forma de me proteger: se eu as tivesse apreendido e compreendido o seu significado exato, penso que teria morrido ali mesmo."
A crueldade dos mais próximos é felizmente compensada, neste livro e na vida, com a amabilidade de estranhos. Tal como em "Um Elétrico Chamado Desejo", de Tennessee Williams, citado pela autora argentina. "Reconheço que dependo cada vez mais da amabilidade de estranhos. Não basta estar rodeado de gente para não se estar só."
Uma Pequena Sorte revela também medos e anseios, a eterna indecisão entre não correr riscos ou arriscar. Correr riscos pode acarretar desilusões infindáveis, mas também pode ser a porta para a felicidade. Não arriscar mantém o futuro em suspenso, o leque pleno de possibilidades, não fecha a porta, mas também nunca a abre. E se?
"Não quero cruzar-me com ele e quero cruzar-me com ele, ao mesmo tempo, num mesmo desejo. A cobardia inclina-me para a primeira opção, a necessidade de não me pôr em risco. No entanto, qual é o verdadeiro risco? Vê-lo, cruzar-me com ele, olhá-lo nos olhos? Ou estar a poucos metros e não olhar para ele, não o procurar, não saber dele nem que seja uma última vez?"
Pode não parecer no início, mas este livro é também sobre o que cada um é capaz de fazer por amor. Ou quer fazer. Ou julga melhor. E se a pessoa amada não percebeu que foi por amor? Se não sabe porquê?
"Nem sempre uma pessoa é dona de reter a verdade, de a guardar para si. Nem sempre uma pessoa é dona do seu silêncio."
São várias as referências a outras obras (livros, filmes) feitas por Claudia Pineiro. Uma delas, que encontro com frequência entre diferentes autores, é a Wakefield, de Nathaniel Hawthorne. No fundo, todos temos curiosidade de saber o que fariam os que amamos sem nós por perto. O que seria de ti sem mim?
October 18, 2023
3.5
I understand that trauma can be (re)experienced in a repetitive fashion; but I felt this book, especially in the beginning and the end was too repetitive, at least for a book. Perhaps it reads less so in its original language, Spanish. And, though it’s not a long book, I felt the ending could’ve arrived at least three separate times before the final chapter. Ending with those previous chapters would’ve left the reader with ambiguity, so perhaps that’s just my preference speaking.
I appreciated the subtle metaphors, the trapped baby bat, for example, and the comparison of the “Incy Wincy spider” of the children’s song to Sisyphus. The latter is perhaps also a nod to the repetitive nature of trauma. I liked reading about the readings the narrator has been given to help her through her trauma, and I noted the ones I haven’t read yet, which include a Simone de Beauvoir story collection and a certain Alice Munro story.
The best part of the novel for me was the middle, the narrator’s written explanation of why she abandoned her six-year-old son: the core of the work. But I think her reasons for leaving would have had even more impact—though it adds more sympathy for her—if one of the factors was not the influence of the husband. I could be misreading him though, through her possible misreading. Her later partner cautions her about “’filling the voids with misinterpretations of what a person said.’”
I understand that trauma can be (re)experienced in a repetitive fashion; but I felt this book, especially in the beginning and the end was too repetitive, at least for a book. Perhaps it reads less so in its original language, Spanish. And, though it’s not a long book, I felt the ending could’ve arrived at least three separate times before the final chapter. Ending with those previous chapters would’ve left the reader with ambiguity, so perhaps that’s just my preference speaking.
I appreciated the subtle metaphors, the trapped baby bat, for example, and the comparison of the “Incy Wincy spider” of the children’s song to Sisyphus. The latter is perhaps also a nod to the repetitive nature of trauma. I liked reading about the readings the narrator has been given to help her through her trauma, and I noted the ones I haven’t read yet, which include a Simone de Beauvoir story collection and a certain Alice Munro story.
The best part of the novel for me was the middle, the narrator’s written explanation of why she abandoned her six-year-old son: the core of the work. But I think her reasons for leaving would have had even more impact—though it adds more sympathy for her—if one of the factors was not the influence of the husband. I could be misreading him though, through her possible misreading. Her later partner cautions her about “’filling the voids with misinterpretations of what a person said.’”
February 29, 2020
Como não sou de caganças, compro livros onde os há. Este veio, com as cebolas e as batatas, do supermercado (Pingo Doce) e custou 5 euros. E que rico livro! Daqueles que não se deixam intervalar com outros. Uma história bonita, comovente e sabiamente contada.
«Piñero é particularmente hábil a expor as forças sociais que minam a sociedade argentina e a fragilidade das relações pessoais."
The Times
«Piñero é particularmente hábil a expor as forças sociais que minam a sociedade argentina e a fragilidade das relações pessoais."
The Times
January 18, 2024
Claudia Pineiro is a renowned crime novelist in her native Argentina. Having previously read “ Elena Knows,” I was eagerly anticipating my second exposure to the author’s work. “ A Little Luck” transcends any specific genre. It explores the burdens of motherhood and the consequences of choices. Ms Pineiro inserts elements of suspense and sporadically obfuscated information in the narrative thread. The result is an interior portrait of a grief stricken narrator who is filled with angst and recriminations rooted in a past traumatic incident.
“ The barrier arm was down. She stopped, behind two other cars…the lowered arm, the alarm bell, and the red lights all indicated that a train was coming. But there was no train. Two, five, eight minutes and still no train in sight. The first car drove around the barrier and crossed the tracks. The second car moved forward and took its place.”
This passage opens the novel and immediately arouses feelings of curiosity and unease. It is clear that this snippet represents a defining life moment. At the outset,there is not enough information to define the speaker or contextualize the event.
Soon thereafter, we learn that the reminiscing narrator of this moment is Mary Lohan, currently a resident of Boston but a native of Buenos Aires, where she was known as Marile Laurie.The atmosphere reeks with uncertainty, prompting speculation about the connection between the car at the train tracks and Mary’s apparent obliteration of her original identity. Mary is a reluctant guide to this puzzle. She doles out crumbs of information and then retreats from disclosure as she unwinds her past history. Mary’s circumspection draws the reader into the maze of guilt and recriminations that have lodged in her consciousness for years.
The author masterfully bends time to fuse past, present and future in Mary’s history. The core of the novel recounts a trauma and the choices one might make to cope with the aftermath. This strand encompasses Pineiro’s thematic concerns centering on female empowerment and confronting feelings of failure and moral uncertainty. We are left ruminating on the parameters of choice versus fate while wondering how much of our life arc is determined by luck.
“ The barrier arm was down. She stopped, behind two other cars…the lowered arm, the alarm bell, and the red lights all indicated that a train was coming. But there was no train. Two, five, eight minutes and still no train in sight. The first car drove around the barrier and crossed the tracks. The second car moved forward and took its place.”
This passage opens the novel and immediately arouses feelings of curiosity and unease. It is clear that this snippet represents a defining life moment. At the outset,there is not enough information to define the speaker or contextualize the event.
Soon thereafter, we learn that the reminiscing narrator of this moment is Mary Lohan, currently a resident of Boston but a native of Buenos Aires, where she was known as Marile Laurie.The atmosphere reeks with uncertainty, prompting speculation about the connection between the car at the train tracks and Mary’s apparent obliteration of her original identity. Mary is a reluctant guide to this puzzle. She doles out crumbs of information and then retreats from disclosure as she unwinds her past history. Mary’s circumspection draws the reader into the maze of guilt and recriminations that have lodged in her consciousness for years.
The author masterfully bends time to fuse past, present and future in Mary’s history. The core of the novel recounts a trauma and the choices one might make to cope with the aftermath. This strand encompasses Pineiro’s thematic concerns centering on female empowerment and confronting feelings of failure and moral uncertainty. We are left ruminating on the parameters of choice versus fate while wondering how much of our life arc is determined by luck.
July 28, 2023
Motherhood is full of little failures that pass unnoticed. If the circumstances had been different, no one, not even me, would've ever known who I could become. Some mothers have all the luck; life never puts them to any kind of test.
I only have a little luck.
A Little Luck ia Francis Riddle's translation of Claudia Piñeiro's 2015 novel Una suerte pequeña and published by Charco Press, following the same author/translator/publisher's shortlisting for the 2022 International Booker Prize for Elena Knows.
The novel opens after an epigraph from Alice Munro (see below) with a short but ominous paragraph telling of a woman sitting in a queue of cars taking it in turn to cross the railway tracks around the barriers on an already lowered level crossing.
It then takes us to the main narrative section, part of a 'Handbook' written by the first person narrator, a woman who now goes under the name of Mary Logan. She is returning from Boston, where she has lived for 20 years, to her native Argentina, on a business trip (she works in an educational institute) but one that will take both to her old neighbourhood and to a school that has particular, painful, memories, a place I loved and hated with similar intensity.
She is now known by a different name, looks very different (her hair shorter and a different colour, her weight significantly less, her eye colour even changed by contact lenses) and sounds different (her accent more americanised and her voice deepened by dysphonia induced by the stress of what caused her to move suddenly to Boston), and the school don't know who she is, indeed think she is American, so while she expects to recognise some people, she doesn't expect them to recognise her and I know the only person I care about seeing won't be there.
The book is slow to give up its mysteries, so no spoilers here, but the telling of the story (what we're reading, we learn, is designed to be read by that very person) is key to the novel itself. But the novel is also strong on the inadequacy of narrative to describe how memory and instinct functions:
It all happens in a flash: Mr Galvin asks what animal, the doorman says murciélago, I think bat in English, the memory of the bats from my childhood in Caballito, and I automatically move my hands to my hair — not remembering that I now wear it cut like a man's, short red hair that the bat from my mother's story could never get tangled in. The whole sequence occurs in an instant. It takes so many words to recount events that occur in a matter of minutes, seconds, fractions of time that are barely perceptible. Things happen so quickly that the words needed to describe them are never able to keep up. Just as it can take years for fleeting events to be forgotten. Sometimes, those memories will never fade. An instant can stay with us our entire lives, relived in words a thousand times over like a punishment. Time is compressed and the narration of that time has to expand it to make it comprehensible.
Various literary references are embedded in the literature, explicitly so in the case of books the man she comes to live with in Boston gave her to read, hoping to tease out exactly what she fled Argentina from. One of those is Alice Munro's story "The Children Stay" from which the aforementioned epigraph is taken, words that do unlock her story:
This is acute pain. It will become chronic. Chronic will be permanent but perhaps not constant. It may also mean that you won’t die of it. You won’t get free of it, but you won’t die of it. You won’t feel it every minute, but you won’t spend many days without it. And you’ll learn some tricks to dull it or banish it, trying not to end up destroying what you incurred this pain to get.
Although in Mary Lohan / Marilé Lauría / María Elena Pujol's case the pain was incurred to avoid pain for others, not to get anything for herself. But she comes to find a form of happiness towards the novel's end:
Talvez a felicidade seja isso, um instante onde estar, um momento qualquer em que as palavras sobram, porque seriam precisas muitas para o contar. Atrever-se a tomá-lo na sua condensação, sem permitir que elas, na sua ânsia de o narrar, lhe façam perder a sua intensidade.
Um tempo comprimido e o fracasso da narrativa que o expande.
A felicidade como uma imagem para contemplar em silêncio.
Maybe that's all happiness is, an instant inhabited, a random moment in which words are unnecessary because it would take too many of them to describe it. To accept the instant in its pure, condensed form, without allowing language and its obsession with narration to dilute the intensity.
Time compressed and narration's failed attempts to expand it.
Happiness like an image to be contemplated in silence.
This is an impressive work, perhaps more conventional though that the sort of novel I'd read in English and rather less political than Elena Knows.
A (spoiler-heavy) interview with the author here: https://southwestreview.com/each-abys...
I only have a little luck.
A Little Luck ia Francis Riddle's translation of Claudia Piñeiro's 2015 novel Una suerte pequeña and published by Charco Press, following the same author/translator/publisher's shortlisting for the 2022 International Booker Prize for Elena Knows.
The novel opens after an epigraph from Alice Munro (see below) with a short but ominous paragraph telling of a woman sitting in a queue of cars taking it in turn to cross the railway tracks around the barriers on an already lowered level crossing.
It then takes us to the main narrative section, part of a 'Handbook' written by the first person narrator, a woman who now goes under the name of Mary Logan. She is returning from Boston, where she has lived for 20 years, to her native Argentina, on a business trip (she works in an educational institute) but one that will take both to her old neighbourhood and to a school that has particular, painful, memories, a place I loved and hated with similar intensity.
She is now known by a different name, looks very different (her hair shorter and a different colour, her weight significantly less, her eye colour even changed by contact lenses) and sounds different (her accent more americanised and her voice deepened by dysphonia induced by the stress of what caused her to move suddenly to Boston), and the school don't know who she is, indeed think she is American, so while she expects to recognise some people, she doesn't expect them to recognise her and I know the only person I care about seeing won't be there.
The book is slow to give up its mysteries, so no spoilers here, but the telling of the story (what we're reading, we learn, is designed to be read by that very person) is key to the novel itself. But the novel is also strong on the inadequacy of narrative to describe how memory and instinct functions:
It all happens in a flash: Mr Galvin asks what animal, the doorman says murciélago, I think bat in English, the memory of the bats from my childhood in Caballito, and I automatically move my hands to my hair — not remembering that I now wear it cut like a man's, short red hair that the bat from my mother's story could never get tangled in. The whole sequence occurs in an instant. It takes so many words to recount events that occur in a matter of minutes, seconds, fractions of time that are barely perceptible. Things happen so quickly that the words needed to describe them are never able to keep up. Just as it can take years for fleeting events to be forgotten. Sometimes, those memories will never fade. An instant can stay with us our entire lives, relived in words a thousand times over like a punishment. Time is compressed and the narration of that time has to expand it to make it comprehensible.
Various literary references are embedded in the literature, explicitly so in the case of books the man she comes to live with in Boston gave her to read, hoping to tease out exactly what she fled Argentina from. One of those is Alice Munro's story "The Children Stay" from which the aforementioned epigraph is taken, words that do unlock her story:
This is acute pain. It will become chronic. Chronic will be permanent but perhaps not constant. It may also mean that you won’t die of it. You won’t get free of it, but you won’t die of it. You won’t feel it every minute, but you won’t spend many days without it. And you’ll learn some tricks to dull it or banish it, trying not to end up destroying what you incurred this pain to get.
Although in Mary Lohan / Marilé Lauría / María Elena Pujol's case the pain was incurred to avoid pain for others, not to get anything for herself. But she comes to find a form of happiness towards the novel's end:
Talvez a felicidade seja isso, um instante onde estar, um momento qualquer em que as palavras sobram, porque seriam precisas muitas para o contar. Atrever-se a tomá-lo na sua condensação, sem permitir que elas, na sua ânsia de o narrar, lhe façam perder a sua intensidade.
Um tempo comprimido e o fracasso da narrativa que o expande.
A felicidade como uma imagem para contemplar em silêncio.
Maybe that's all happiness is, an instant inhabited, a random moment in which words are unnecessary because it would take too many of them to describe it. To accept the instant in its pure, condensed form, without allowing language and its obsession with narration to dilute the intensity.
Time compressed and narration's failed attempts to expand it.
Happiness like an image to be contemplated in silence.
This is an impressive work, perhaps more conventional though that the sort of novel I'd read in English and rather less political than Elena Knows.
A (spoiler-heavy) interview with the author here: https://southwestreview.com/each-abys...
May 30, 2018
Na capa da edição portuguesa de ”Uma pequena sorte” da escritora argentina Claudia Piñeiro (n. 1960) surge como referência: ”Um poderoso thriller familiar, que é também uma reflexão sobre o mundo em que vivemos".
O booktrailer da edição Argentina é emblemática:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lPcjo...
À medida que a narrativa avança – intercalada por uma sequência que é descrita, repetida, e ampliada, vamos tendo acesso a factos trágicos que conferem ao leitor um sentimento acrescido de aflição e desespero.
Uma mãe e um filho. Um filho e uma mãe.
Qual é a diferença entre uma mulher destroçada e uma mulher danificada?
Claudia Piñeiro tem uma prosa directa, eficiente, imaculada na ligação entre as personagens, no enquadramento dos seus relacionamentos e das suas convivências, mas sobretudo, na profundidade com que realça e destaca as questões emocionais que estão subjacentes a determinados comportamentos e a determinadas condutas pessoais que influenciam, neste caso, dramaticamente o presente e o futuro.
”Uma pequena sorte” é um romance que descreve o implacável amor de uma mãe pelo seu filho, do que é a hipocrisia social perante um acontecimento acidental, do sofrimento incomensurável, da angústia e do desespero que é enfatizado pela realidade de um episódio atroz que altera a vida das pessoas envolvidas, directa e indirectamente, nas suas emoções e nos seus sentimentos.
Extremamente comovente e perturbador… sobre o destino e a casualidade...
”Talvez a felicidade seja isso, um instante onde estar, um momento qualquer em que as palavras sobram, porque seriam precisas muitas para o contar. Atrever-se a tomá-lo na sua condensação, sem permitir que elas, na sua ânsia de o narrar, lhe façam perder a sua intensidade.
Um tempo comprimido e o fracasso da narrativa que o expande.
A felicidade como uma imagem para contemplar em silêncio.
E um encontro.
Este.” (Pág. 249 – 250)
O booktrailer da edição Argentina é emblemática:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lPcjo...
À medida que a narrativa avança – intercalada por uma sequência que é descrita, repetida, e ampliada, vamos tendo acesso a factos trágicos que conferem ao leitor um sentimento acrescido de aflição e desespero.
Uma mãe e um filho. Um filho e uma mãe.
Qual é a diferença entre uma mulher destroçada e uma mulher danificada?
Claudia Piñeiro tem uma prosa directa, eficiente, imaculada na ligação entre as personagens, no enquadramento dos seus relacionamentos e das suas convivências, mas sobretudo, na profundidade com que realça e destaca as questões emocionais que estão subjacentes a determinados comportamentos e a determinadas condutas pessoais que influenciam, neste caso, dramaticamente o presente e o futuro.
”Uma pequena sorte” é um romance que descreve o implacável amor de uma mãe pelo seu filho, do que é a hipocrisia social perante um acontecimento acidental, do sofrimento incomensurável, da angústia e do desespero que é enfatizado pela realidade de um episódio atroz que altera a vida das pessoas envolvidas, directa e indirectamente, nas suas emoções e nos seus sentimentos.
Extremamente comovente e perturbador… sobre o destino e a casualidade...
”Talvez a felicidade seja isso, um instante onde estar, um momento qualquer em que as palavras sobram, porque seriam precisas muitas para o contar. Atrever-se a tomá-lo na sua condensação, sem permitir que elas, na sua ânsia de o narrar, lhe façam perder a sua intensidade.
Um tempo comprimido e o fracasso da narrativa que o expande.
A felicidade como uma imagem para contemplar em silêncio.
E um encontro.
Este.” (Pág. 249 – 250)
July 30, 2023
There's an incident. No, Mary Lohan, our protagonist says, it wasn't an incident, it was an accident. But no, she finally realizes, it was a tragedy.
It's hard to write a review of this book because that tragedy is central to the story. The fact that it's revealed relatively early on doesn't mean I can tell you though. That would spoil everything, and you'll be wanting to learn about it for yourself. From a literary point of view, it's really special how the author reveals the . . . oh, let's go back to calling it an incident. A mere paragraph appears after a few chapters. The paragraph is built upon a few chapters later. Then more again. This reader really liked the appearance of these building blocks, even as I wondered where the author was taking me.
At first I was a little worried that the novel would be formulaic. It starts with Mary Lohan getting on a plane in Boston to return to Buenos Aires after twenty years. Maybe she's searching for a him, maybe not. That much I can tell you. Because him is not who I reflexively thought it might be.
This is a sad story, and Mary Lohan cries an awful lot. But it's also about the kindness of strangers. So maybe that's something else I can tell you. There's an ensemble cast, but three characters have essentially cameo appearances. Two of the three are barely described. Yet all three are defined simply by their kindness. That kind of thing could make a story schmaltzy, but not here.
If you read and liked this author's Elena Knows you will want to read this, and should be reading it already. And to Charco Press, more Claudia Piñeiro, please.
It's hard to write a review of this book because that tragedy is central to the story. The fact that it's revealed relatively early on doesn't mean I can tell you though. That would spoil everything, and you'll be wanting to learn about it for yourself. From a literary point of view, it's really special how the author reveals the . . . oh, let's go back to calling it an incident. A mere paragraph appears after a few chapters. The paragraph is built upon a few chapters later. Then more again. This reader really liked the appearance of these building blocks, even as I wondered where the author was taking me.
At first I was a little worried that the novel would be formulaic. It starts with Mary Lohan getting on a plane in Boston to return to Buenos Aires after twenty years. Maybe she's searching for a him, maybe not. That much I can tell you. Because him is not who I reflexively thought it might be.
This is a sad story, and Mary Lohan cries an awful lot. But it's also about the kindness of strangers. So maybe that's something else I can tell you. There's an ensemble cast, but three characters have essentially cameo appearances. Two of the three are barely described. Yet all three are defined simply by their kindness. That kind of thing could make a story schmaltzy, but not here.
If you read and liked this author's Elena Knows you will want to read this, and should be reading it already. And to Charco Press, more Claudia Piñeiro, please.
October 13, 2023
"Cada pessoa reage de maneira diferente perante o abismo que um dia se abre à sua frente, sabe que não pode dar mais um passo porque cairia, mas as opções, os diferentes caminhos, costumam ser muito mais do que imagina quem está diante do precipício. Eu fui-me embora, deixei o meu filho e fechei-me em mim mesma. No meu caso, outro teria tomado um caminho diferente. A resposta para cada abismo é pessoal, única. Desconheço ainda qual foi a dele. O meu filho pode ter sentido zanga, raiva, até ódio, mas também deceção, angústia, vergonha. Não sei o que ele sente hoje."
Esta leitura começou muito bem. A autora conseguiu manter-me curiosa para saber o que raio aconteceu na passagem de nível. No entanto, depois de descobrir o que aconteceu, parece que é tudo tão vazio para a dimensão da tragédia que foi. Não sei se as personagens são pouco densas ou pouco desenvolvidas, mas não fiquei com dó da protagonista. Serei estranha e má pessoa?
A coincidência de como se dá o reencontro também é um pouco estranha, mas, como houve fios invisíveis a serem puxados, uma pessoa até dá um desconto.
O final, tão fofinho e atado num laço, acho que foi precipitado e mal preparado. Pareceu tudo tão fácil! Não sei se na vida real seria assim. E talvez gostasse de saber mais sobre o outro lado, o da criança abandonada. Como cresceu, o que sentiu, como lidou com o acidente que alterou a vida de tanta gente.
Gostei da escrita e da história engendrada por Cláudia Pineiro, no entanto, a execução, no meu ver, deixou um pouco a desejar.
Pela capacidade de a autora me manter agarrada à história ficará nas 4 ⭐ fraquinhas.
#outubrohispanoamericano
Esta leitura começou muito bem. A autora conseguiu manter-me curiosa para saber o que raio aconteceu na passagem de nível. No entanto, depois de descobrir o que aconteceu, parece que é tudo tão vazio para a dimensão da tragédia que foi. Não sei se as personagens são pouco densas ou pouco desenvolvidas, mas não fiquei com dó da protagonista. Serei estranha e má pessoa?
A coincidência de como se dá o reencontro também é um pouco estranha, mas, como houve fios invisíveis a serem puxados, uma pessoa até dá um desconto.
O final, tão fofinho e atado num laço, acho que foi precipitado e mal preparado. Pareceu tudo tão fácil! Não sei se na vida real seria assim. E talvez gostasse de saber mais sobre o outro lado, o da criança abandonada. Como cresceu, o que sentiu, como lidou com o acidente que alterou a vida de tanta gente.
Gostei da escrita e da história engendrada por Cláudia Pineiro, no entanto, a execução, no meu ver, deixou um pouco a desejar.
Pela capacidade de a autora me manter agarrada à história ficará nas 4 ⭐ fraquinhas.
#outubrohispanoamericano
Read
March 3, 2021DNF
Gosto muito de autoras do país das Pampas, mas esta argentina escreveu uma verdadeira novela mexicana que começou a bulir com os meus nervos mais ou menos a meio da leitura e que já me fazia sentir uma pessoa insensível que não é capaz de perdoar a protagonista, por mais cordelinhos que Claudia Piñeiro puxasse para justificar as suas acções. Desde o momento em que um acidente terrível é revelado que o meu cérebro entrou em modo analítico e passei a ver a autora como uma advogada de defesa, daquelas que vão buscar acontecimentos da infância e da adolescência para o público ficar do lado da arguida. Marilé não é de todo uma criminosa; é apenas uma mulher que cometeu vários erros, um deles imperdoável, porque afectou irremediavelmente a vida do filho, e isso eu compreendo. É o estilo sensacionalista da autora, com frases curtas, supostamente incisivas, com constantes repetições de expressões e de relatos, que me afasta deste livro por me sentir manipulada, por ver as rodinhas do cérebro de Piñeiro a rodar.
É preciso uma pessoa entregar-se completamente à leitura de um tema tão delicado como este, tentar pôr-se ao máximo na pele da protagonista e, nestes moldes, eu não sou capaz.
Gosto muito de autoras do país das Pampas, mas esta argentina escreveu uma verdadeira novela mexicana que começou a bulir com os meus nervos mais ou menos a meio da leitura e que já me fazia sentir uma pessoa insensível que não é capaz de perdoar a protagonista, por mais cordelinhos que Claudia Piñeiro puxasse para justificar as suas acções. Desde o momento em que um acidente terrível é revelado que o meu cérebro entrou em modo analítico e passei a ver a autora como uma advogada de defesa, daquelas que vão buscar acontecimentos da infância e da adolescência para o público ficar do lado da arguida. Marilé não é de todo uma criminosa; é apenas uma mulher que cometeu vários erros, um deles imperdoável, porque afectou irremediavelmente a vida do filho, e isso eu compreendo. É o estilo sensacionalista da autora, com frases curtas, supostamente incisivas, com constantes repetições de expressões e de relatos, que me afasta deste livro por me sentir manipulada, por ver as rodinhas do cérebro de Piñeiro a rodar.
É preciso uma pessoa entregar-se completamente à leitura de um tema tão delicado como este, tentar pôr-se ao máximo na pele da protagonista e, nestes moldes, eu não sou capaz.
October 6, 2021
Lloré, al terminar sólo puedo decir que amo este libro y que amo a Robert
November 1, 2020
Deliciosa maneira de terminar as minhas leituras deste outubro hispanoamericano.
Busco, com uma obsessão quase doentia, personagens quebradas (broken, como tão sabiamente dizem os nativos da língua inglesa) e esta obra trouxe-me uma mulher danificada, que me dilacerou e me fez chorar tanto que ainda não recuperei da dor de cabeça que esse choro me provocou.
Abençoo a hora que comprei esta obra e que a quis nas minhas estantes. Algo me dizia que iria abalroar-me. E fê-lo. E ainda bem que o fez.
RECOMENDADÍSSIMA!
Caramba (apetecia-me dizer j*der, como o fazem os nativos da língua espanhola), como se escreve bem nas latitudes latinoamericanas!
NOTA - 10/10
Busco, com uma obsessão quase doentia, personagens quebradas (broken, como tão sabiamente dizem os nativos da língua inglesa) e esta obra trouxe-me uma mulher danificada, que me dilacerou e me fez chorar tanto que ainda não recuperei da dor de cabeça que esse choro me provocou.
Abençoo a hora que comprei esta obra e que a quis nas minhas estantes. Algo me dizia que iria abalroar-me. E fê-lo. E ainda bem que o fez.
RECOMENDADÍSSIMA!
Caramba (apetecia-me dizer j*der, como o fazem os nativos da língua espanhola), como se escreve bem nas latitudes latinoamericanas!
NOTA - 10/10
October 20, 2025
lo leí porque me dijeron que se parecía a otro libro que me había gustado, y lastimosamente con eso me hicieron un poco de spoiler… igual librazo
July 31, 2023
Say what you want but Claudia Piñeiro knows how to write an addictive story, Elena Knows was a page turner which incorporated themes such as mental health and generational divide. A Little Luck is no different.
The main protagonist, Mary Lohan, is sent from The States to Argentina to assess a school so that they can merge with a program. The problem is that Mary is actually returning to her homeland and she is dreading it.
As the book progresses we find out that Mary has quite a past, including one major incident, and it is revealed slowly. There are some twists in the way and they come as a surprise. I can mention any more as it will spoil the book.
One can tell that Claudia Piñeiro has a background in crime fiction – she drops clues, puts in little plot bombs and builds up the tension right after a clue is unveiled.
Clearly this is a book is about secrets and how they can change one’s destiny. At times affecting and with a couple of tear jerking moments, A Little Luck is a gripping novel that affects the reader’s emotions. Claudia Piñeiro is quite an awesome book, in every sense of the words.
The main protagonist, Mary Lohan, is sent from The States to Argentina to assess a school so that they can merge with a program. The problem is that Mary is actually returning to her homeland and she is dreading it.
As the book progresses we find out that Mary has quite a past, including one major incident, and it is revealed slowly. There are some twists in the way and they come as a surprise. I can mention any more as it will spoil the book.
One can tell that Claudia Piñeiro has a background in crime fiction – she drops clues, puts in little plot bombs and builds up the tension right after a clue is unveiled.
Clearly this is a book is about secrets and how they can change one’s destiny. At times affecting and with a couple of tear jerking moments, A Little Luck is a gripping novel that affects the reader’s emotions. Claudia Piñeiro is quite an awesome book, in every sense of the words.
Read
July 13, 2023A Little Luck is one of the most moving tearjerkers you’ll ever read. A beautiful piece of literary fiction from one of Argentina’s greatest living authors.
Our protagonist, Mary, is originally from Buenos Aires, but has spent the past twenty years living in Boston, MA.
Mary’s American husband, Robert, has recently passed away, and now she must return to Argentina for a business trip.
This will be her first time returning, and she is deeply afraid.
My full thoughts: https://booksandbao.com/essential-lit...
Our protagonist, Mary, is originally from Buenos Aires, but has spent the past twenty years living in Boston, MA.
Mary’s American husband, Robert, has recently passed away, and now she must return to Argentina for a business trip.
This will be her first time returning, and she is deeply afraid.
My full thoughts: https://booksandbao.com/essential-lit...
May 5, 2024
Estive muito indeciso entre o 4 e o 5. Fica assim. Gostei bastante.
July 15, 2018
He decir que con esta escritora iba sobre seguro, ya he leído unos cuantos libros suyos y, por ahora, nunca defrauda, tiene una escritura que es una delicia y las historias siempre enganchan. Historia terrible desvelada poco a poco, creíble y muy bien narrada.
September 20, 2023
if my house burns down, i'm saving this book.
a little luck is extremely moving, and disturbing.
it's a brilliant novel about fate and chance.
a little luck is extremely moving, and disturbing.
it's a brilliant novel about fate and chance.
August 25, 2023
“Do I deserve to explain why? What I mean is do I have that right? The right to unburden myself and expect someone to listen?”
Right from the very first page, we learn this: the barrier arm was down. A woman stops, behind two other cars. The lowered arm, the alarm bell, and the red lights all indicated that a train was coming. But there was no train.
It’s a refrain that Claudia Pineiro uses over and over again, in almost exactly the same words, as if the scene was seared into her character, Mary Lohan’s, brain. Which it is. Twenty years have passed since a fatal accident occurred, in a Buenos Aires suburb with Mary at the wheel. She has changed her name and her appearance. But the devastating pain of that time remains.
Now, after 20 years living in Boston, Mary is finally returning to that suburb in a professional capacity. Her past, her present, and her future are about to collide. And maybe, just maybe, with a little luck, Mary will find redemption.
A Little Luck is very different from this author’s last book, Elena Knows. If truth be told, I loved both of them, but in different ways. Claudia Pineiro knows how to channel the human condition. In both books, the reader is almost claustrophobically placed within the tight confines of a person living with horrendous emotional pain.
The story here is so intensely personal that it feels as if the reader has encountered a friend engulfed with the worst kind of pain and is powerless to do anything but pay witness. It will be up to each reader to judge whether Mary deserves forgiveness. My answer was an unqualified “yes”, given the back story that unfolds. Mary’s answer is mostly “no.”
This raw, elegantly written novel, about the power of guilt and redemption and the unselfishness of maternal love, is spellbinding in its grasp of the reader. It’s a winner.
May 14, 2024
Tardei a ler este livro. Já tinha lido opiniões altamente positivas, mas só a adesão a um "desafio" me fez pegar nele. Que, de início, constitui uma narrativa algo confusa, com algumas pontas soltas, mas se se foi compondo.
Quer pela temática em si quer pelo estilo de escrita, não é uma obra que se leia num ápice. Requer tempo para relacionar conceitos, o estar repleta de recursos estilísticos também torna morosa essa tarefa. Até a forma como o livro está paginado e o recurso sistemático a discurso indirecto ajudam a isso. Foi por esses factores que não lhe atribuí "cotação" máxima.
Contudo, quem quiser ler um thriller familiar, comovente e super bem escrito, tem aqui uma excelente opção. Angustia, enriquece, emociona e, no fim, sentimos que valeu a pena. Isto, sim, é LITERATURA...
Uma nota final para o final... Nos tempos conturbados que vivemos, aquele final é um rasgo de esperança!
4, 5 ⭐ (Quase a "bater" nas 5).
Quer pela temática em si quer pelo estilo de escrita, não é uma obra que se leia num ápice. Requer tempo para relacionar conceitos, o estar repleta de recursos estilísticos também torna morosa essa tarefa. Até a forma como o livro está paginado e o recurso sistemático a discurso indirecto ajudam a isso. Foi por esses factores que não lhe atribuí "cotação" máxima.
Contudo, quem quiser ler um thriller familiar, comovente e super bem escrito, tem aqui uma excelente opção. Angustia, enriquece, emociona e, no fim, sentimos que valeu a pena. Isto, sim, é LITERATURA...
Uma nota final para o final... Nos tempos conturbados que vivemos, aquele final é um rasgo de esperança!
4, 5 ⭐ (Quase a "bater" nas 5).
August 3, 2020
Ai Mães …! Ou simplesmente, mulheres, ou homens…
Cuidem-se, que Claudia Piñero destroça-nos o coração. De forma lenta vai agudizando o desconforto da dor no peito.
”«Não deixe que a julguem, não aceite o julgamento dos outros, algumas comunidades são muito fechadas, muito…», procurou a palavra uns instantes, «… admonitórias. É esse o termo: admonitórias. E um pouco hipócritas também, se me permite. Pessoas que não sabem pôr-se no lugar do outro. Levantam o dedo e julgam com a certeza de que eles nunca estarão sentados no banco dos réus. Não deixe. Tem de ser forte.»”
Maplethorpe (director do colégio). E uma criança; de 6 anos.
As exceções à regra. Os únicos que não se ergueram para atirar pedras.
A citação afirma: algumas comunidades.
Será? Não será em todo o lado assim?
Julgar, criticar, aviltar.
Não se pôr no lugar do outro.
Tantas as vezes. Tantas!
Que raio de sociedade a nossa.
“«Há muitos tipos de mãe. Algumas, quando tomam consciência de que podem estragar a vida dos filhos procuram a forma de o evitar».”
O mundo a seus pés ruiu de vez. E o amor… o amor incondicional instou a medidas drásticas tal qual o trágico acontecimento. O suicídio era mitigar apenas a sua dor de forma permanente, como tal um acto egoísta. Partir e continuar a viver, sim era um castigo por demais doloroso. Era morrer hoje, amanhã, todos os dias.
Se era o certo ou o errado, vá se lá saber. Só a urgência de tomar medidas importava. E o pós-tragédia não se vive. Sobrevive-se. E os danos colaterais existem também, infelizmente.
Gostei muito da estrutura do texto, com aquele acontecimento que determina um “antes” e um “depois” contado e recontado, aos pedaços, de quando em vez, deixando-nos suspensos.
Surpreendente, íntimo, tocante!
”Talvez a felicidade seja isso, um instante onde estar, um momento qualquer em que as palavras sobram, porque seriam precisas muitas para o contar. Atrever-se a tomá-lo na sua condensação, sem permitir que elas, na sua ânsia de o narrar, lhe façam perder a sua intensidade.
A felicidade como uma imagem para contemplar em silêncio."
Cuidem-se, que Claudia Piñero destroça-nos o coração. De forma lenta vai agudizando o desconforto da dor no peito.
”«Não deixe que a julguem, não aceite o julgamento dos outros, algumas comunidades são muito fechadas, muito…», procurou a palavra uns instantes, «… admonitórias. É esse o termo: admonitórias. E um pouco hipócritas também, se me permite. Pessoas que não sabem pôr-se no lugar do outro. Levantam o dedo e julgam com a certeza de que eles nunca estarão sentados no banco dos réus. Não deixe. Tem de ser forte.»”
Maplethorpe (director do colégio). E uma criança; de 6 anos.
As exceções à regra. Os únicos que não se ergueram para atirar pedras.
A citação afirma: algumas comunidades.
Será? Não será em todo o lado assim?
Julgar, criticar, aviltar.
Não se pôr no lugar do outro.
Tantas as vezes. Tantas!
Que raio de sociedade a nossa.
“«Há muitos tipos de mãe. Algumas, quando tomam consciência de que podem estragar a vida dos filhos procuram a forma de o evitar».”
O mundo a seus pés ruiu de vez. E o amor… o amor incondicional instou a medidas drásticas tal qual o trágico acontecimento. O suicídio era mitigar apenas a sua dor de forma permanente, como tal um acto egoísta. Partir e continuar a viver, sim era um castigo por demais doloroso. Era morrer hoje, amanhã, todos os dias.
Se era o certo ou o errado, vá se lá saber. Só a urgência de tomar medidas importava. E o pós-tragédia não se vive. Sobrevive-se. E os danos colaterais existem também, infelizmente.
Gostei muito da estrutura do texto, com aquele acontecimento que determina um “antes” e um “depois” contado e recontado, aos pedaços, de quando em vez, deixando-nos suspensos.
Surpreendente, íntimo, tocante!
”Talvez a felicidade seja isso, um instante onde estar, um momento qualquer em que as palavras sobram, porque seriam precisas muitas para o contar. Atrever-se a tomá-lo na sua condensação, sem permitir que elas, na sua ânsia de o narrar, lhe façam perder a sua intensidade.
A felicidade como uma imagem para contemplar em silêncio."
August 4, 2025
I sobbed. This was a good book, well-told & paced. It gutted me (even though there are flashes of hope). I definitely appreciate her as an author, but I have to be emotionally fortified to even consider reading another of hers someday. The two books of hers that I have read (this one & Elena Knows) have emotionally devastated me. I guess Piñeiro's stories, her writing push all my buttons. Good. But exhausting.
(WiT 2025.)
“She lies truthfully, like any good writer,' Robert answered, 'and if she lies truthfully, it's because she knows what she's talking about.”
(WiT 2025.)
January 3, 2024
Hacía tiempo que no leía a Claudia Piñeiro. Con esta autora me ha ocurrido lo mismo que el título de este libro, que he tenido “Una suerte pequeña”, lo cual no se si es bueno o malo, me explico. Mi suerte fue que leí su mejor novela la primera de todas, y con todo lo que he ido leyendo después suyo le he ido exigiendo en esa medida…y ya me ha sabido a poco. Esa obra estupenda, para mí no es otra que “Elena sabe”.
Con Una suerte pequeña, saca todos elementos de su buena prosa: crea altas expectativas de inicio, pergeña un buen relato, sin prisas pero sin pausas va dando pinceladas de la historia de fondo, crea unos buenos personajes, reales, y poco a poco avanza de forma decidida. Crea varios bloques en la novela a los que va dando distintos formatos y tonos, y en general logra tocar la fibra sensible del lector. Únicamente, y siempre bajo mi particular punto de vista falla en dos cuestiones: 1) el desarrollo de la historia es previsible desde bien temprano (creo recordar que la pag. 45 o 47), así como el final también resulta previsible, y 2) se recrea mucho en la suerte, aquí uso el término taurino de aquel que se exhibe innecesariamente tras haber hecho una buena faena, aquí página tras página se gusta en aquello que quiere darnos a entender: arrepentimiento, explicación al detalle de un comportamiento “inadecuado”, etc. No discuto que habrá a quien todo este desarrollo le habrá parecido fantástico, de hecho mi opinión puede ser discutible y todo eso puede ser la base de la novela.
Estos pecadillos que pongo de lector exigente, no le restan para tratarse una novela entretenida y buena, con la cual arranco el año con muy buenos propósitos.
Con Una suerte pequeña, saca todos elementos de su buena prosa: crea altas expectativas de inicio, pergeña un buen relato, sin prisas pero sin pausas va dando pinceladas de la historia de fondo, crea unos buenos personajes, reales, y poco a poco avanza de forma decidida. Crea varios bloques en la novela a los que va dando distintos formatos y tonos, y en general logra tocar la fibra sensible del lector. Únicamente, y siempre bajo mi particular punto de vista falla en dos cuestiones: 1) el desarrollo de la historia es previsible desde bien temprano (creo recordar que la pag. 45 o 47), así como el final también resulta previsible, y 2) se recrea mucho en la suerte, aquí uso el término taurino de aquel que se exhibe innecesariamente tras haber hecho una buena faena, aquí página tras página se gusta en aquello que quiere darnos a entender: arrepentimiento, explicación al detalle de un comportamiento “inadecuado”, etc. No discuto que habrá a quien todo este desarrollo le habrá parecido fantástico, de hecho mi opinión puede ser discutible y todo eso puede ser la base de la novela.
Estos pecadillos que pongo de lector exigente, no le restan para tratarse una novela entretenida y buena, con la cual arranco el año con muy buenos propósitos.
December 15, 2025
Dezembro de 2025
Esta leitura levou-me a refletir sobre o peso das decisões que tomamos.
Em "Uma Pequena Sorte", somos confrontados com uma questão central e profundamente incómoda: até que ponto temos legitimidade para decidir o que é melhor para o outro, sobretudo quando essa decisão implica perda, dor ou ausência, ainda que nasça das melhores e sofridas intenções?
Surgem escolhas feitas em nome do bem do outro que, paradoxalmente, podem acabar por o prejudicar em vez de o proteger. Não são decisões neutras, pois deixam marcas, criam ausências e produzem consequências muitas vezes irreversíveis.
O romance coloca-nos perante um dilema ético delicado: afastar-se de quem se ama pode ser entendido como um ato de amor, mas também como uma forma de violência silenciosa para ambos, sobretudo quando o outro nunca teve a oportunidade de escolher. Privar alguém de uma presença, acreditando que essa ausência será benéfica, obriga-nos a questionar quem decide e quem suporta o peso da decisão. Compreende-se a mãe que acredita estar a proteger, compreende-se o filho que sente a ausência como abandono. Compreende-se quem pensa oferecer um presente e um futuro melhor, mas também quem cresce sem nunca saber se esse futuro compensou a perda inicial.
A história não oferece respostas fáceis, na medida em que nem todas as decisões tomadas por amor são necessariamente justas e de que decidir pelo outro, mesmo com a melhor das intenções, pode ser uma forma subtil de lhe retirar a voz.
Apesar de ter apreciado a reflexão que o livro me proporcionou e, por vezes, a emoção que me despertou, houve alguns pormenores que me causaram algum incómodo. Certas situações e escolhas narrativas soaram-me a cliché e não me convenceram totalmente, dando a sensação de temas já muito revisitados, tanto no cinema como noutros livros.
De qualquer modo, é um livro que merece ser lido, a emoção que desperta está lá, à espera do leitor, bem como o amor de uma mãe pelo seu filho.
Esta leitura levou-me a refletir sobre o peso das decisões que tomamos.
Em "Uma Pequena Sorte", somos confrontados com uma questão central e profundamente incómoda: até que ponto temos legitimidade para decidir o que é melhor para o outro, sobretudo quando essa decisão implica perda, dor ou ausência, ainda que nasça das melhores e sofridas intenções?
Surgem escolhas feitas em nome do bem do outro que, paradoxalmente, podem acabar por o prejudicar em vez de o proteger. Não são decisões neutras, pois deixam marcas, criam ausências e produzem consequências muitas vezes irreversíveis.
O romance coloca-nos perante um dilema ético delicado: afastar-se de quem se ama pode ser entendido como um ato de amor, mas também como uma forma de violência silenciosa para ambos, sobretudo quando o outro nunca teve a oportunidade de escolher. Privar alguém de uma presença, acreditando que essa ausência será benéfica, obriga-nos a questionar quem decide e quem suporta o peso da decisão. Compreende-se a mãe que acredita estar a proteger, compreende-se o filho que sente a ausência como abandono. Compreende-se quem pensa oferecer um presente e um futuro melhor, mas também quem cresce sem nunca saber se esse futuro compensou a perda inicial.
A história não oferece respostas fáceis, na medida em que nem todas as decisões tomadas por amor são necessariamente justas e de que decidir pelo outro, mesmo com a melhor das intenções, pode ser uma forma subtil de lhe retirar a voz.
Apesar de ter apreciado a reflexão que o livro me proporcionou e, por vezes, a emoção que me despertou, houve alguns pormenores que me causaram algum incómodo. Certas situações e escolhas narrativas soaram-me a cliché e não me convenceram totalmente, dando a sensação de temas já muito revisitados, tanto no cinema como noutros livros.
De qualquer modo, é um livro que merece ser lido, a emoção que desperta está lá, à espera do leitor, bem como o amor de uma mãe pelo seu filho.
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