Fiction. Simply and sensually written, this love story between two Mexican Jewish women has been both scandalous and celebrated since its first publication. A romance that explores the constraints that family, community and society place on love, TWO MUJERES is an evocation of a desire that crosses boundaries and the risks of that transgression.
Un librito que me encontré en Madrid en una librería especializada en la cultura LGBT. Luego me entero que fue un best seller en los años noventa en México pero fue tan escandaloso para la gente conservadora que Sara Levi tuvo que huir del país por un tiempo.
i picked this book up on a whim, and i am so glad i did
“Sara Levi Calderón was born and raised Jewish in Mexico City. She married, gave birth to two children, got divorced, became a sociologist, and then fell in love and learned the wonders of becoming a lesbian.
"Die Bilanz von Allerseelen waren zwei Frauen, die sich liebten"
Der Anfang hat mir sehr gut gefallen. Ich mochte auch die Erzählform und die Fomulierungen. Jedoch hatte ich öfters das Gefühl, dass irgendwas bei der Übersetzung schief gelaufen ist. Der rote Faden hat mir manchmal gefehlt.
Desgarradora, muy bella. Aun con melancolía, una lectura muy necesaria. Brindamos con Sara Levi (con su Valeria y Genovesa) por ese día en que todas las mujeres podamos amar libremente. Porque, en sus palabras , es injusto no vivir como sentimos, con el deseo a flor de cada poro
This is one of the few books I've read where I can confidently say that it's incorrect. Not that the writing wasn't for me or the subject matter iffy—it's just plain written wrong.
The prose has no focus, glossing over pretty much every conversation and major event without sparing any detail. Characters are introduced either without context or with far too much, and then never reappear. Subplots randomly begin, only to be randomly dropped. Genovesa is suddenly declared to be an art teacher, and then a few chapters later, the narration casually mentions her losing her job; all I can think is hey that would have been fucking cool to see on the page instead of just being told for fuck's sake.
Despite being a translated work, there are still random italicized palabras en español every cinco segundos to show how muy mexicano this novel is—and I'm not just talking idioms or song lyrics, I mean shit like ¿Cómo estás? in the middle of a page. Characters throw around French words willy-nilly and can't even spell them correctly: Alain Barrière's surname is misspelled "Barriére," and we get "a la" instead of "à la" and "merde allors" instead of "merde alors." Shit, even the English is poorly proofread: One chapter swaps Raúl and Genovesa for an entire page, such that Valeria seems to be falling for a Raúl that's suddenly transitioned before correcting herself a page later and continuing to crush on Genovesa while a sadly male-again Raúl continues to be useless; we get a "[Was she] you're darling" instead of "your darling"; and two paragraphs are suddenly in present tense without explanation, before randomly reverting back to past (Methinks Calderón was trying to be poetic—but that doesn't work when your prose is as dry and boring as hers is). The sex scenes contain such gems as "She sought out my vagina anxiously" and "I fear the vertigo." And in 92 pages, the only reference to Jewish culture we get is someone being bashed over the head with a menorah.
I understand that this is a semi-autobiographical book, but the problem with real life is that it's hard to fit neatly into a story structure—and story structures exist to make fiction a satisfying experience. All three of her editors failed her miserably, none moreso than her English-language ones, and this tired Jewish lesbian reader is paying the price.
«La tierra se vuelve líquida. Nos detenemos la una de la otra. Reconoce su sabor a través de mi boca... Los leños regurgitan secamente mientras nuestras voces se dicen coplas. Una voz urbana clama: te amo. Esa voz es mía y de nadie más.»
La historia de amor y vida de dos mujeres que aprenden a amarse, a entregarse a la pasión en un México del siglo XX. La intimidad, la búsqueda de la libertad, la pasión y los lazos familiares son los ejes centrales de esta historia resgarradora a veces, exuberante en otras.
Encontrarme con este libro ha sido una tremenda sorpresa, no fue para nada lo que esperaba, pero cómo me ha gustado.
una historia narrada de una forma poco convencional. con enormes espacios dejados (pareciera que a propósito) para que la imaginación de la lectora los interceda.
las peripecias de una burguesa que se enoja y tiene un torrencial idilio con otra mujer, un poco menos burguesa. considerando el año original de publicación, 2014,, explota clichés y estereotipos de heroínas desheredadas como resultado de su amor.
Did not finish this book. A story supposedly about a woman's journey from daughter to mother and a lover. Off course the story of becoming a lover can be quite sensual, but this was more like a soft porno. And no real story, very short chapters, so I've put the book away.
La besé y le dije que la nuestra era la historia de amor más importante de mi vida. Me preguntó que cómo podía saberlo si apenas la conocía. Así es el amor, pega como un destello de luz y sabes que esa persona es la esperada. Es la ventaja de tener más años.
Una mujer que no se rinde hasta encontrar su libertad, a pesar que eso conlleva “sacrificar” el amor de sus hijos y familia, el tiempo le dará la razón, una novela que trata de amor
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
The writing in this is lovely. It makes it feel like you're there with Valeria and Genovesia. It was occasionally confusing though, as there's not really a plot so much as the meandering descriptions of a relationship and the conflicts and growth that come from that.
I like this book more for its sentimental value than its own merit: aside from Winterson (which I discovered at about the same time) it was my first lesbo read. And not a bad one, at that.