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Jak kochać własną córkę
Stojąc na ulicy tysiące kilometrów od domu, Joela ukradkiem obserwuje dwie dziewczynki. Niezauważona przez wnuczki, których nigdy nie poznała, i córkę, z którą od lat nie ma kontaktu, zaczyna snuć opowieść o błędach, łatwych do popełnienia, lecz mimo to niewybaczalnych. Joela ściga własne wspomnienia, by uchwycić moment, gdy drobne oszustwa życia rodzinnego doprowadziły córkę do ucieczki.
Hila Blum tworzy realistyczny portret radości, smutków i niepewności wpisanych w macierzyństwo. Zbrodnie popełnione z dobrych chęci, wielki trud, jaki podejmuje matka, aby ukryć swoją rodzicielską porażkę, oraz historię miłości do dwóch mężczyzn. Do tego, z którym założyła rodzinę, i tego z którym przeżywa jej stratę.
Jak kochać własną córkę to hipnotyzująca powieść o trudnej, nierozerwalnej, przytłaczającej więzi matki z córką.
Hila Blum tworzy realistyczny portret radości, smutków i niepewności wpisanych w macierzyństwo. Zbrodnie popełnione z dobrych chęci, wielki trud, jaki podejmuje matka, aby ukryć swoją rodzicielską porażkę, oraz historię miłości do dwóch mężczyzn. Do tego, z którym założyła rodzinę, i tego z którym przeżywa jej stratę.
Jak kochać własną córkę to hipnotyzująca powieść o trudnej, nierozerwalnej, przytłaczającej więzi matki z córką.
304 pages, Paperback
First published February 1, 2021
485 people are currently reading
15550 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 808 reviews
July 21, 2023
This book was looking like a five stars until the end. The book could have been longer. We never got the answers we were looking for, it absolutely killed me because I was so invested. Regardless of the ending though the writing was beautiful. The way the author explained things and how our main character was feeling, broke my heart and had me on the verge of tears. I will definitely be reading whatever this author puts out!
August 9, 2023
How to Love Your Daughter is a very intimate and frustrating book about the estrangement between a mother and her daughter.
I usually try to avoid books about motherhood like the plague but I have a special spot in my heart for books that, as Hila Blum describes, follow the ‘crimes of will’ that destroy mother-children relationships. Some of my favorite books that include this are Our Happy Time, Concerning My Daughter (ish), and a very specific part of Pachinko. I think How to Love Your Daughter is up there with them. While it didn’t impact me as much as Pachinko (perhaps because I related more to Noa in there? We don’t really get to empathize with the daughter in this book), Blum’s really kicked me in the gut a few times.
Yoella (the mother) narrates her story jumping from her daughter’s childhood to the present as she obsesses over her and she learns about her via the Internet. She reads things and sees pictures and makes up the lives of her daughter Leah and the family she has started away from her - in another country, without even telling her she’s had daughters. There are a few reviews saying that it’s a sad story to read and people DNFing it because it’s just a story about a woman who has a truly miserable life and I agree that it isn’t a good read, but Yoella is digging her own grave at every action. It’s nauseating to read how Yoella herself points at her need to lay her claim on things, how impaired she was with the daughter, and how this justified her need to overstep on everything, even after she left voluntarily.
This book is just a reminder that we all love differently and Yoella thought she was loving her daughter the best way possible, but it overwhelmed her. She became impaired and obsessed with this love and it leads her to do things I can only define as stalkery (and, honestly, so realistic). I wish we had gotten to see Leah’s perspective on this because I feel it would have been so easy to empathize with her and feel for her.
Super glad I picked it up, I may even re-read it in the future.
I usually try to avoid books about motherhood like the plague but I have a special spot in my heart for books that, as Hila Blum describes, follow the ‘crimes of will’ that destroy mother-children relationships. Some of my favorite books that include this are Our Happy Time, Concerning My Daughter (ish), and a very specific part of Pachinko. I think How to Love Your Daughter is up there with them. While it didn’t impact me as much as Pachinko (perhaps because I related more to Noa in there? We don’t really get to empathize with the daughter in this book), Blum’s really kicked me in the gut a few times.
Yoella (the mother) narrates her story jumping from her daughter’s childhood to the present as she obsesses over her and she learns about her via the Internet. She reads things and sees pictures and makes up the lives of her daughter Leah and the family she has started away from her - in another country, without even telling her she’s had daughters. There are a few reviews saying that it’s a sad story to read and people DNFing it because it’s just a story about a woman who has a truly miserable life and I agree that it isn’t a good read, but Yoella is digging her own grave at every action. It’s nauseating to read how Yoella herself points at her need to lay her claim on things, how impaired she was with the daughter, and how this justified her need to overstep on everything, even after she left voluntarily.
This book is just a reminder that we all love differently and Yoella thought she was loving her daughter the best way possible, but it overwhelmed her. She became impaired and obsessed with this love and it leads her to do things I can only define as stalkery (and, honestly, so realistic). I wish we had gotten to see Leah’s perspective on this because I feel it would have been so easy to empathize with her and feel for her.
Super glad I picked it up, I may even re-read it in the future.
October 18, 2024
Quero escrever sobre a Leah de uma assentada, dizer tudo. Mas, ai, faltam-me as palavras. Gostaria de escrever sobre a Leah sem palavras.
Que dizer de um livro cujas melhores passagens não são da autora, mas sim citações de outras leituras sobre a dinâmica entre mães e filhas que ela emprestou à sua protagonista? Elizabeth Strout, Margaret Atwood e Alice Munro, por exemplo. Hila Blum precisa, de facto, destes apartes porque a sua escrita é totalmente desenxabida e, quando tenta esmerar-se, saem parágrafos pretensiosos.
Mas as histórias de mães e filhas são sempre in media res, processam-se recuando para o princípio. A via é simples mas sinuosa, o princípio está cada vez mais longe. É como com o universo, ou os números, não há princípio.
Pergunto-me se, sendo Hila Blum israelita, serão diferenças culturais que nos separam, como me acontece muito frequentemente com as autoras escandinavas. Parece disparatado, são culturas ocidentais, mas acho que o meu cérebro não está artilhado da mesma maneira que o delas. Ou se, no caso desta Yoella, é realmente o cérebro dela que não consigo compreender, visto que sofre de uma doença mental que não sou capaz de identificar. Depressão? Neurose? Por vezes, até me pareceu neurodivergente.
Poderia e deveria ter desistido de “Como Amar uma Filha” a meio, quando começou a cansar-me, mas a técnica que Hila Blum utiliza para prender o leitor é eficaz; gasta, usada ad nauseam, mas ainda e sempre eficaz. Como em milhares de outros livros, há uma situação misteriosa entre as personagens cuja explicação só surge mesmo no final, a proverbial cenoura à frente do burro. Leah está praticamente de relações cortadas com a mãe, saiu de casa muito jovem, liga-lhe de vez em quando para garantir que está bem, mas não lhe conta onde está nem o que faz da sua vida, nem sequer agora que já se passaram vários anos. É obviamente no final que se fica a perceber porquê. Ou melhor, a trama precipita-se para um dilema moral e, depois, o livro termina abruptamente e aí, ou se faz luz para o leitor ou se fica com cara de imbecil, como me aconteceu a mim.
Antes de ser mãe, talvez não compreendesse como se ama as meninas. Quero eu dizer, como se faz para as amar. Ouvira falar das forças arcanas que tornam as mães omnipotentes. (…) Sabia que o amor de uma mãe pode ser selvagem e desabrido. O que não compreendia era o amor quotidiano. E depois compreendi. A Leah nasceu e eu compreendi.
As relações entre mães e filhas têm vários graus de dificuldade, é um facto. Se me lembrar do meu círculo de amizades em adolescente, todas nós tínhamos embates e quezílias com as nossas mães. Umas queixavam-se de falta de atenção, outras de falta de liberdade, umas de ausência, outras de excesso de presença, umas que processaram bem a educação que receberam, outras que, em adultas, precisam ou procuram até ajuda profissional para poderem ultrapassá-la. Apesar de tudo isso, acho o corte radical desta filha demasiado dramático, ainda que sirva o propósito de ilustrar as repercussões de um amor maternal tóxico.
Estava apaixonada pela minha filha, adorava tudo, tudo nela, e aquilo era apenas uma forma de exorcismo para afugentar o mau-olhado. A minha filha inundava as margens do meu coração, por isso eu tinha de deitar fora um pouco do meu amor, só umas gotinhas, para me aguentar. Não era fácil mantê-la a salvo.
Fiquei indecisa entre uma ou duas estrelas, porque é realmente uma obra sem coerência nem emoção, mas acabei por optar pelas duas porque creio que percebo a intenção subtil de Blum na sua insipidez: amar uma pessoa não é o mesmo do que gostar dela e até quando amamos e cuidamos bem de um/a filho/a (na nossa subjectiva opinião), podemos causar-lhe um mal irreparável e nem sempre percebemos como nem quando o fazemos.
Pensei que as famílias infelizes já não me interessavam, nem por sombras, só me interessava a desgraça das famílias felizes – o meio friável. A família em que cresci, a família que construí.
[NOTA: Quando vejo que a tradução está a cargo desta tradutora, uma pessoa muito experiente, fico sempre de pé atrás. Mais uma vez, achei certas opções duvidosas que, embora constem dos dicionários, me causam alguma estranheza. A melhor é, sem dúvida, “primeiro o pote” para “first potty”. Além de ser um termo claramente do PT-BR, parece que também se diz na Beira (?), mas, a sério, que criança pequena diz isto em vez de bacio, penico?]
Que dizer de um livro cujas melhores passagens não são da autora, mas sim citações de outras leituras sobre a dinâmica entre mães e filhas que ela emprestou à sua protagonista? Elizabeth Strout, Margaret Atwood e Alice Munro, por exemplo. Hila Blum precisa, de facto, destes apartes porque a sua escrita é totalmente desenxabida e, quando tenta esmerar-se, saem parágrafos pretensiosos.
Mas as histórias de mães e filhas são sempre in media res, processam-se recuando para o princípio. A via é simples mas sinuosa, o princípio está cada vez mais longe. É como com o universo, ou os números, não há princípio.
Pergunto-me se, sendo Hila Blum israelita, serão diferenças culturais que nos separam, como me acontece muito frequentemente com as autoras escandinavas. Parece disparatado, são culturas ocidentais, mas acho que o meu cérebro não está artilhado da mesma maneira que o delas. Ou se, no caso desta Yoella, é realmente o cérebro dela que não consigo compreender, visto que sofre de uma doença mental que não sou capaz de identificar. Depressão? Neurose? Por vezes, até me pareceu neurodivergente.
Poderia e deveria ter desistido de “Como Amar uma Filha” a meio, quando começou a cansar-me, mas a técnica que Hila Blum utiliza para prender o leitor é eficaz; gasta, usada ad nauseam, mas ainda e sempre eficaz. Como em milhares de outros livros, há uma situação misteriosa entre as personagens cuja explicação só surge mesmo no final, a proverbial cenoura à frente do burro. Leah está praticamente de relações cortadas com a mãe, saiu de casa muito jovem, liga-lhe de vez em quando para garantir que está bem, mas não lhe conta onde está nem o que faz da sua vida, nem sequer agora que já se passaram vários anos. É obviamente no final que se fica a perceber porquê. Ou melhor, a trama precipita-se para um dilema moral e, depois, o livro termina abruptamente e aí, ou se faz luz para o leitor ou se fica com cara de imbecil, como me aconteceu a mim.
Antes de ser mãe, talvez não compreendesse como se ama as meninas. Quero eu dizer, como se faz para as amar. Ouvira falar das forças arcanas que tornam as mães omnipotentes. (…) Sabia que o amor de uma mãe pode ser selvagem e desabrido. O que não compreendia era o amor quotidiano. E depois compreendi. A Leah nasceu e eu compreendi.
As relações entre mães e filhas têm vários graus de dificuldade, é um facto. Se me lembrar do meu círculo de amizades em adolescente, todas nós tínhamos embates e quezílias com as nossas mães. Umas queixavam-se de falta de atenção, outras de falta de liberdade, umas de ausência, outras de excesso de presença, umas que processaram bem a educação que receberam, outras que, em adultas, precisam ou procuram até ajuda profissional para poderem ultrapassá-la. Apesar de tudo isso, acho o corte radical desta filha demasiado dramático, ainda que sirva o propósito de ilustrar as repercussões de um amor maternal tóxico.
Estava apaixonada pela minha filha, adorava tudo, tudo nela, e aquilo era apenas uma forma de exorcismo para afugentar o mau-olhado. A minha filha inundava as margens do meu coração, por isso eu tinha de deitar fora um pouco do meu amor, só umas gotinhas, para me aguentar. Não era fácil mantê-la a salvo.
Fiquei indecisa entre uma ou duas estrelas, porque é realmente uma obra sem coerência nem emoção, mas acabei por optar pelas duas porque creio que percebo a intenção subtil de Blum na sua insipidez: amar uma pessoa não é o mesmo do que gostar dela e até quando amamos e cuidamos bem de um/a filho/a (na nossa subjectiva opinião), podemos causar-lhe um mal irreparável e nem sempre percebemos como nem quando o fazemos.
Pensei que as famílias infelizes já não me interessavam, nem por sombras, só me interessava a desgraça das famílias felizes – o meio friável. A família em que cresci, a família que construí.
[NOTA: Quando vejo que a tradução está a cargo desta tradutora, uma pessoa muito experiente, fico sempre de pé atrás. Mais uma vez, achei certas opções duvidosas que, embora constem dos dicionários, me causam alguma estranheza. A melhor é, sem dúvida, “primeiro o pote” para “first potty”. Além de ser um termo claramente do PT-BR, parece que também se diz na Beira (?), mas, a sério, que criança pequena diz isto em vez de bacio, penico?]
December 1, 2024
Poruszyła we mnie lęki, o których jako matka dziewczynki nie miałam jeszcze pojęcia. Pięknie napisana, wzruszająca i pełna emocji historia o życiu, budowaniu więzi, a później o odchodzeniu. Trudna, ale piękna!!!
December 9, 2025
Israel pick for my reading around the world challenge - hard to enjoy a book when you absolutely despise the main character 🫣
August 14, 2021
Maybe I am just not the right audience, but the depth of dwelling into how miserable this woman’s life is, is exhausting. Besides that, I can tell the writer has strong writing skills, but the book is too convoluted with no start and no end and a meandering plot that feels like trying too much to make something of nothing.
October 27, 2024
Perda de tempo.
Devia ter levado 1 estrela apenas.
Devia ter levado 1 estrela apenas.
August 13, 2023
I cannot stress enough how thought provoking this novel is....as a daughter and a mother (either/or) it makes you think about the power of that relationship and the myriad of things that can go wrong in the name of love. Blum's style is sparsely poetic and I am reading it a second time for all the gems about love, relationships, mistakes, parenting's joys and heartaches. This novel will stay with you and make you think deeply about your own relationship with your own mother.
August 6, 2025
The writing is beautiful but I have a hard time reading deep, ongoing, internal drama. I say that but I love Dostoyevsky 😂
July 4, 2022
L’amore di una figlia non è negoziabile
"Come amare una figlia" si apre con una scena breve e affascinante: la protagonista e voce narrante della storia è in piedi in una strada buia in una piccola città dei Paesi Bassi, Groningen e fa capolino all'interno di una casa luminosa e calda.
Dentro la casa vive una famiglia: ci sono una madre, un padre, e due bambine.
La donna che vede in quella casa è sua figlia Leah, le bambine sono le nipoti che non ha mai conosciuto.
L'intero libro è un viaggio mentale e fisico di Yoela , una madre che cerca la sua unica figlia Leah, che le ha voltato le spalle e ha costruito la sua vita adulta lontano da lei fuori dalla sua vista e dalla sua vita.
Da quel momento Yoela torna indietro, e attraverso slittamenti nel tempo si conosce l'intera storia: gravidanza, parto, infanzia, adolescenza e l’allontanamento di madre e figlia nell'età adulta, il cui motivo da decifrare spetta ai lettori, perché non c’è nulla che lo giustifichi, nessun rapporto di causa effetto, nessun errore irrimediabile
Semplicemente le cose rimangono lì, deliberatamente, irrisolte, disfatte
Come amare una figlia è una raccolta di frammenti di vita: le difficoltà nel separarsi, l’affannarsi nel voler sapere tutto della vita della figlia, sono gli elementi di una relazione simbiotica e soffocante che alla figlia esausta di questo amore non hanno lasciato altra scelta che scappare, strappando il cordone ombelicale nel modo più modo crudele e doloroso.
Hila Blum ha creato una figura materna sull'orlo della depressione, incapace di provare gioia e consumata da silenzi e ombre, che ripercorre con la memoria piccole scene quotidiane per cercare di trovare una ragione per interrompere quest’ossessione, ma nulla riesce a tirarla fuori da quel ripetuto tormento.
Resta solo il suo grande amore e l'ingiustizia che le è stata fatta, perché in fondo lei l’ha amata più di ogni altra cosa.
Lei è stata una buona madre e come tutte le madri "Si è perennemente in bilico.”
"Come amare una figlia" si apre con una scena breve e affascinante: la protagonista e voce narrante della storia è in piedi in una strada buia in una piccola città dei Paesi Bassi, Groningen e fa capolino all'interno di una casa luminosa e calda.
Dentro la casa vive una famiglia: ci sono una madre, un padre, e due bambine.
La donna che vede in quella casa è sua figlia Leah, le bambine sono le nipoti che non ha mai conosciuto.
L'intero libro è un viaggio mentale e fisico di Yoela , una madre che cerca la sua unica figlia Leah, che le ha voltato le spalle e ha costruito la sua vita adulta lontano da lei fuori dalla sua vista e dalla sua vita.
Da quel momento Yoela torna indietro, e attraverso slittamenti nel tempo si conosce l'intera storia: gravidanza, parto, infanzia, adolescenza e l’allontanamento di madre e figlia nell'età adulta, il cui motivo da decifrare spetta ai lettori, perché non c’è nulla che lo giustifichi, nessun rapporto di causa effetto, nessun errore irrimediabile
Semplicemente le cose rimangono lì, deliberatamente, irrisolte, disfatte
Come amare una figlia è una raccolta di frammenti di vita: le difficoltà nel separarsi, l’affannarsi nel voler sapere tutto della vita della figlia, sono gli elementi di una relazione simbiotica e soffocante che alla figlia esausta di questo amore non hanno lasciato altra scelta che scappare, strappando il cordone ombelicale nel modo più modo crudele e doloroso.
Hila Blum ha creato una figura materna sull'orlo della depressione, incapace di provare gioia e consumata da silenzi e ombre, che ripercorre con la memoria piccole scene quotidiane per cercare di trovare una ragione per interrompere quest’ossessione, ma nulla riesce a tirarla fuori da quel ripetuto tormento.
Resta solo il suo grande amore e l'ingiustizia che le è stata fatta, perché in fondo lei l’ha amata più di ogni altra cosa.
Lei è stata una buona madre e come tutte le madri "Si è perennemente in bilico.”
September 22, 2024
“The first time I saw my granddaughters, I was standing across the street, didn’t dare get any closer.”
How to Love Your Daughter starts out with a bang. Our narrator, Yoella, is standing outside the house of her grown daughter in a book-filled Netherlands house. She has not seen Leah in six years and has never met her granddaughters. How have things come to this?
As Yoella interrogates herself, we realize she is not a totally reliable narrator. “Everything I ever did, I did out of love,” she insists, and in saying that, she might be right. The problem is it was not healthy love. It is a love rooted in possession and control, a love that does not recognize the importance of guiding a daughter to understand who she is and her place in the world.
Yoella, who is bookish, relies on writers such as Alice Munro and Margaret Atwood to help her understand. “I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t setting my story against hers,” she extrapolates. She remembers incidents with her own mother. But gradually, the reader begins to sense who she really is: a woman who is not emotionally healthy, who has dealt with postpartum depression, who has wanted things for Leah that she doesn’t necessarily want for herself. (A scene where Leah, a promising dancer, tosses away her dancing clothes is quite powerful).
Nothing in this book is melodramatic. But it does skirt against moral territory when a teenage Leah needs guidance, and Yoella’s coercive love leads to an outcome that will haunt and shape her. Even then, Yoella is not done with intervening in Leah’s life.
Hila Blum, an Israeli writer, and her talented translator Daniella Zamir present a novel that is filled with nuance and psychological complexity. Ms. Blum eschews fireworks and instead wisely autopsies a seemingly ordinary mother-daughter relationship that goes off the wires. This is a fine book.
How to Love Your Daughter starts out with a bang. Our narrator, Yoella, is standing outside the house of her grown daughter in a book-filled Netherlands house. She has not seen Leah in six years and has never met her granddaughters. How have things come to this?
As Yoella interrogates herself, we realize she is not a totally reliable narrator. “Everything I ever did, I did out of love,” she insists, and in saying that, she might be right. The problem is it was not healthy love. It is a love rooted in possession and control, a love that does not recognize the importance of guiding a daughter to understand who she is and her place in the world.
Yoella, who is bookish, relies on writers such as Alice Munro and Margaret Atwood to help her understand. “I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t setting my story against hers,” she extrapolates. She remembers incidents with her own mother. But gradually, the reader begins to sense who she really is: a woman who is not emotionally healthy, who has dealt with postpartum depression, who has wanted things for Leah that she doesn’t necessarily want for herself. (A scene where Leah, a promising dancer, tosses away her dancing clothes is quite powerful).
Nothing in this book is melodramatic. But it does skirt against moral territory when a teenage Leah needs guidance, and Yoella’s coercive love leads to an outcome that will haunt and shape her. Even then, Yoella is not done with intervening in Leah’s life.
Hila Blum, an Israeli writer, and her talented translator Daniella Zamir present a novel that is filled with nuance and psychological complexity. Ms. Blum eschews fireworks and instead wisely autopsies a seemingly ordinary mother-daughter relationship that goes off the wires. This is a fine book.
September 17, 2023
I loved this book, the subject matter, a mother-daughter relationship. I really enjoyed the way in which H. B. meanders, flashes back and forth in time, so that one slowly grasps a flicker of what happened in the past to explain where the narrator is today. She, Yoella, the mother and narrator, is standing in front of her adult daughter’s (Leah’s) home. She’s looking in from across the street. She wonders about her daughter, her two young granddaughters, and her daughter’s Dutch husband, none of whom she has ever met. She is estranged from her daughter, and wants desperately to figure out where it all went wrong. The story never answers any questions, yet it swirls around deliciously captivating one’s mind, causing one to think and ponder. Ohhh, I loved it very much. Highly recommended.
This book was translated by Daniella Zamir. So I extend a heartfelt thank you to Daniella Zamir for translating a book I would otherwise not be able to read in its original language, Hebrew.
This book was translated by Daniella Zamir. So I extend a heartfelt thank you to Daniella Zamir for translating a book I would otherwise not be able to read in its original language, Hebrew.
October 27, 2021
איזה ספר כואב.
הרגשתי שהסוף היה צריך להיות קצת יותר מעניין וארוך.
ספר מומלץ מאוד לקריאה, גם אם אין לכם ילדים.
אני מאוד אוהב שהספרים מחולקים לתתי פרקים של 2-4 עמודים, לדעתי גורם לקריאה להיות מהירה.
הרגשתי שהסוף היה צריך להיות קצת יותר מעניין וארוך.
ספר מומלץ מאוד לקריאה, גם אם אין לכם ילדים.
אני מאוד אוהב שהספרים מחולקים לתתי פרקים של 2-4 עמודים, לדעתי גורם לקריאה להיות מהירה.
August 5, 2024
Το βιβλίο μας ξεκινά με τη Γιοέλα, να παρακολουθεί τις εγγονές της, τις οποίες δεν εχει γνωρίσει ποτέ. Αρχίζει λοιπόν να μας αφηγείται την ιστορία της οικογένειας της ή καλύτερα την σχέση της με την κόρη της.
Με αναδρομές ανάμεσα στο τώρα και στο παρελθόν, μοιράζεται μαζί μας αναμνήσεις και στιγμιότυπα της ζωής της.
Η Γιοέλα, θεωρεί προφανώς ότι προσέφερε στην κόρη της την αμέριστη αγάπη και προσοχή της, σε αντιδιαστολή με τη σχέση της με τη δική της μητέρα - χωρίς βέβαια να την κατηγορεί ευθέως. Όμως, ποτέ δεν διευκρινίζει τον λόγο της αποξένωσης τους.
Ως μητέρα κι η ίδια, δεν μπορώ και δεν θα μπω στη διαδικασία να κρίνω μια άλλη μητέρα.
Θα πω μόνο ότι καθένας μας έχει τον δικό του τρόπο να αγαπά και να το δείχνει.
Να αγαπάτε τα παιδιά σας για αυτό που είναι...όχι για αυτό που θα θέλατε να είναι....
3,5 αστέρια
Με αναδρομές ανάμεσα στο τώρα και στο παρελθόν, μοιράζεται μαζί μας αναμνήσεις και στιγμιότυπα της ζωής της.
Η Γιοέλα, θεωρεί προφανώς ότι προσέφερε στην κόρη της την αμέριστη αγάπη και προσοχή της, σε αντιδιαστολή με τη σχέση της με τη δική της μητέρα - χωρίς βέβαια να την κατηγορεί ευθέως. Όμως, ποτέ δεν διευκρινίζει τον λόγο της αποξένωσης τους.
Ως μητέρα κι η ίδια, δεν μπορώ και δεν θα μπω στη διαδικασία να κρίνω μια άλλη μητέρα.
Θα πω μόνο ότι καθένας μας έχει τον δικό του τρόπο να αγαπά και να το δείχνει.
Να αγαπάτε τα παιδιά σας για αυτό που είναι...όχι για αυτό που θα θέλατε να είναι....
3,5 αστέρια
April 25, 2024
No no no
Lo que yo amé este libro
Estoy en Jerusalén
Será por eso?
Tengo una hija a la que amo
Será por eso?
Soy judía
Será por eso?
Tengo una amiga que se llama como la autora. No es por eso.
Todas las muestras de amor de la madre a la hija me las compro a pesar de lo intolerables. Se sabe que pasó algo y eso algo me conmueve. Maneja los tiempos tan bien que no desesperas ni esperas sólo el final. Vas gozando y andando el trayecto con la madre, juntas aunque la materne medio mal. Caótica. Y lo vas sufriendo también.
No sé porque tiene baja calificación si ganó un prestigioso premio. Aunque los premios no dicen mucho. A mí me robó el corazón.
No por ser una extraordinaria historia sino por ser una cotidiana.
Lo que yo amé este libro
Estoy en Jerusalén
Será por eso?
Tengo una hija a la que amo
Será por eso?
Soy judía
Será por eso?
Tengo una amiga que se llama como la autora. No es por eso.
Todas las muestras de amor de la madre a la hija me las compro a pesar de lo intolerables. Se sabe que pasó algo y eso algo me conmueve. Maneja los tiempos tan bien que no desesperas ni esperas sólo el final. Vas gozando y andando el trayecto con la madre, juntas aunque la materne medio mal. Caótica. Y lo vas sufriendo también.
No sé porque tiene baja calificación si ganó un prestigioso premio. Aunque los premios no dicen mucho. A mí me robó el corazón.
No por ser una extraordinaria historia sino por ser una cotidiana.
August 24, 2023
this woman is crazy. i like that we didnt really totally understand how crazy until the end though. maybe she should've had two children so she didnt mentally torment her only child.
January 31, 2022
„Warum Lea? Mein Leben lang habe ich nur eine Handvoll Menschen gekannt, die von einer glücklichen Kindheit berichten, alle anderen sind Überlebende, allen wurde zu viel oder gu wenig gegeben, das Leben ist immer nur eine lange Genesungszeit von der Kindheit. (S.150)
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Joela lebt in Israel, über 5000 Kilometer trennen sie von ihrer Tochter Lea, die inzwischen in Holland lebt und dort eine eigene Familie gegründet hat. Sehnlichst wünscht sich Joela ihre Tochter zurück, ihr Kind, das sie, wie früher lieben und umsorgen kann. Lea aber hält die Mutter nicht nur durch die Kilometer, die sie voneinander trennen auf Distanz, auch von ihren zwei Töchtern, Joelas Enkelinnen, hat sie der Mutter nichts erzählt.
Und so steht Joela vor den hell erleuchteten Fenstern eines Hauses in Groningen, beobachtet die spielenden Kinder ihrer Tochter und beginnt ihre Erinnerungen zu einer Geschichte zusammenzufügen und erzählt wie die einst so vollkommene, Mutter-Tochter-Beziehung zerbrach.
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Hila Blum hat in ihrem Roman, der kürzlich mit dem israelischen Sapir-Buchpreis ausgezeichnet wurde, eine gemütvolle Liebeserklärung einer Mutter an ihr einziges Kind, ihre Tochter geschrieben. Ihre Geschichte entspringt dabei vor allem den Erinnerungen von Joela, die sich gedanklich durch die gemeinsamen Momente mit ihrem Mann und Tochter Lea arbeitet und dem Lesenden dabei tiefgründigen Raum zum Einfühlen in ihre Beziehung zueinander gibt. Episodenweise erzählt Joela auch von der Gegenwart, der Sehnsucht nach ihrem Kind und den verzweifelten Versuchen ihr nachzuspüren. Hila Blums Sprache ist ruhig, entfaltet sich klangvoll poetisch zu einer beschwörerisch-bildhaften Sprachmelodie, die keineswegs kitschig rüberkommt. Das Lesen war ein Genießen! Die Autorin hat überdies ein Thema gewählt, zu dem jeder Lesende seine ganz eigene Beziehung und persönliche Empfindung mitbringt, was dieser tiefgründigen Geschichte unermesslichen Interpretationsspielraum einräumt. Für mich ganz persönlich war es eine sehr nahe, sehr menschliche Erzählung, die im Nachhall besonders ergreifend wirkt.
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👉🏻aus dem Hebräischen von Ruth Achlama
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Joela lebt in Israel, über 5000 Kilometer trennen sie von ihrer Tochter Lea, die inzwischen in Holland lebt und dort eine eigene Familie gegründet hat. Sehnlichst wünscht sich Joela ihre Tochter zurück, ihr Kind, das sie, wie früher lieben und umsorgen kann. Lea aber hält die Mutter nicht nur durch die Kilometer, die sie voneinander trennen auf Distanz, auch von ihren zwei Töchtern, Joelas Enkelinnen, hat sie der Mutter nichts erzählt.
Und so steht Joela vor den hell erleuchteten Fenstern eines Hauses in Groningen, beobachtet die spielenden Kinder ihrer Tochter und beginnt ihre Erinnerungen zu einer Geschichte zusammenzufügen und erzählt wie die einst so vollkommene, Mutter-Tochter-Beziehung zerbrach.
.
Hila Blum hat in ihrem Roman, der kürzlich mit dem israelischen Sapir-Buchpreis ausgezeichnet wurde, eine gemütvolle Liebeserklärung einer Mutter an ihr einziges Kind, ihre Tochter geschrieben. Ihre Geschichte entspringt dabei vor allem den Erinnerungen von Joela, die sich gedanklich durch die gemeinsamen Momente mit ihrem Mann und Tochter Lea arbeitet und dem Lesenden dabei tiefgründigen Raum zum Einfühlen in ihre Beziehung zueinander gibt. Episodenweise erzählt Joela auch von der Gegenwart, der Sehnsucht nach ihrem Kind und den verzweifelten Versuchen ihr nachzuspüren. Hila Blums Sprache ist ruhig, entfaltet sich klangvoll poetisch zu einer beschwörerisch-bildhaften Sprachmelodie, die keineswegs kitschig rüberkommt. Das Lesen war ein Genießen! Die Autorin hat überdies ein Thema gewählt, zu dem jeder Lesende seine ganz eigene Beziehung und persönliche Empfindung mitbringt, was dieser tiefgründigen Geschichte unermesslichen Interpretationsspielraum einräumt. Für mich ganz persönlich war es eine sehr nahe, sehr menschliche Erzählung, die im Nachhall besonders ergreifend wirkt.
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👉🏻aus dem Hebräischen von Ruth Achlama
January 4, 2024
Una historia dolorosamente bella sobre el amor materno mal aplicado. La maternidad mal entendida cobra vida en estas páginas.
Leah, una joven judía, deja su Israel natal y se muda a Holanda donde forma una familia distanciándose a su vez de su madre. El libro comienza así, con una madre viajando sola a Holanda, parapetándose frente a la casa de su hija y observándola a través de las ventanas. En ningún momento la autora nos dice qué acontecimiento llevó a Leah a alejarse de su madre pero si una lee el libro, no hace falta porque queda claro. La madre, Yoela, nos cuenta capítulo a capítulo saltando entre el pasado y el presente, su relación con su hija.
Y ¡qué puedo decir! Cada capítulo es una delicia. Yoela ama tanto a su hija Leah pero de una forma tan incorrecta que a ratos te enfadas con ella por sus respuestas o sus acciones. El dicho "no me quieras tanto y quiéreme mejor" resume bien este tipo de amor. Porque a veces podemos confundir la protección con la posesión y el control. Y siempre es más fácil verlo desde fuera que cuando lo estás sufriendo tú mismo.
Una obra psicológica muy bien escrita. Una auténtica joya.
Leah, una joven judía, deja su Israel natal y se muda a Holanda donde forma una familia distanciándose a su vez de su madre. El libro comienza así, con una madre viajando sola a Holanda, parapetándose frente a la casa de su hija y observándola a través de las ventanas. En ningún momento la autora nos dice qué acontecimiento llevó a Leah a alejarse de su madre pero si una lee el libro, no hace falta porque queda claro. La madre, Yoela, nos cuenta capítulo a capítulo saltando entre el pasado y el presente, su relación con su hija.
Y ¡qué puedo decir! Cada capítulo es una delicia. Yoela ama tanto a su hija Leah pero de una forma tan incorrecta que a ratos te enfadas con ella por sus respuestas o sus acciones. El dicho "no me quieras tanto y quiéreme mejor" resume bien este tipo de amor. Porque a veces podemos confundir la protección con la posesión y el control. Y siempre es más fácil verlo desde fuera que cuando lo estás sufriendo tú mismo.
Una obra psicológica muy bien escrita. Una auténtica joya.
November 11, 2025
Príbeh začína v vo chvíli, keď matka pozoruje svoju dcéru na ulici iba z diaľky. Postupne sa začne pred nami odvíjať klbko príbehov a drobných udalostí, ktoré viedlo k tomuto odsudzeniu. Román o tom, že hranica medzi vrúcnou materskou láskou a tou, ktorá sa stáva obsesiou je veľmi tenká. Chce to kus empatie, aby sme pochopili hlavnú hrdinku a vedeli s ňou súcitiť.
Drsná, dojemná a úprimná výpoveď zložená zo spomienok, kde-tu vytrhnutých a náhodne pozliepaných.
Drsná, dojemná a úprimná výpoveď zložená zo spomienok, kde-tu vytrhnutých a náhodne pozliepaných.
November 5, 2023
„Chciałabym od czasu do czasu zobaczyć film o życiu, które wykrzywia się tak po prostu, niemal samo z siebie, a nie o spektakularnych życiowych porażkach. Chciałabym posłuchać o rodzinach takich jak nasza, Meira, Lei i moja, o błędach łatwych do popełnienia, a mimo to nieprzebaczalnych; o zwykłych wypadkach, a raczej o zbrodniach z dobrych chęci.“
November 17, 2024
Um daqueles livros que se inicia e caímos na história como se nos afundássemos nela porque estamos a testemunhar o que se passou com aquela família. Este é o tipo de narrativa precisa e intensa que parece real. Um drama que se espera e não se anseia, num crescendo de tensão, porque tanto amor não devia distanciar. Enquanto isso, outras histórias maternas se entrelaçam em pequenos apontamentos.
A capa é belíssima. A escrita, de pasmar, num mapa de afeto de uma mãe por uma filha. Exaltada, excessiva e sofrida. Um retrato das dúvidas, alegrias e desgostos da maternidade.
“A preocupação é um colete de forças, tal como o amor.”
A capa é belíssima. A escrita, de pasmar, num mapa de afeto de uma mãe por uma filha. Exaltada, excessiva e sofrida. Um retrato das dúvidas, alegrias e desgostos da maternidade.
“A preocupação é um colete de forças, tal como o amor.”
July 22, 2023
Thank you to Penguin Group: Riverhead Books and NetGalley for this arc in exchange for my honest review.
I feel bad reviewing this so low because while I do like the premise, I just did not vibe with the overall execution. I found this book to be dismal and exhausting to get through. The writing was not always clear with what it was trying to say, which felt more disorientating rather than multidimensional. I think this could possibly work for a different type of reader other than myself, but for me this just didn't work.
I feel bad reviewing this so low because while I do like the premise, I just did not vibe with the overall execution. I found this book to be dismal and exhausting to get through. The writing was not always clear with what it was trying to say, which felt more disorientating rather than multidimensional. I think this could possibly work for a different type of reader other than myself, but for me this just didn't work.
December 7, 2024
Idk too many emotions rn
April 6, 2024
In the beginning of the book, a mother hides outside the house where her estranged daughter lives, looking through the window at her, and the granddaughters she never met. The scene immediately pulls me in. I, as a reader, follow the woman from her pregnancy, to the daughter’s childhood, then to young girl’s the tumultuous teenage years, along the way glimpse into the woman’s own upbringing, mariage, relationship with her mother, and various mental breakdowns. The seemingly inexplicable estrangement gradually becomes clear. What has she done to deserve such pain? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a lot. A single wrong move, life is lost and love turns cold. But is it truly a once-off mistake? Has the daughter been suffocated by the mother’s love for a long time?
Psychologically deep. Snippets of real books scatter among the pages, mostly about mother daughter relationships by female authors–Alice Munro, Margaret Atwood, Elizabeth Strout, to name a few. Readers read books the protagonist reads, which creates breaks in the flow. The effect is strange.
The story is sad not just because of the mother daughter estrangement, but more of the inescapable fate. The author gives the mother and daughter the same personality: obsession, and the daughter repeats the mother’s fate.
Psychologically deep. Snippets of real books scatter among the pages, mostly about mother daughter relationships by female authors–Alice Munro, Margaret Atwood, Elizabeth Strout, to name a few. Readers read books the protagonist reads, which creates breaks in the flow. The effect is strange.
The story is sad not just because of the mother daughter estrangement, but more of the inescapable fate. The author gives the mother and daughter the same personality: obsession, and the daughter repeats the mother’s fate.
February 5, 2024
I considered giving up on this one on more than one occasion, but I ended up sticking with it and finishing. And I still can't say that I enjoyed it very much.
The story starts with a mother looking through the window of a house at her daughter and her two granddaughters, who she has never met. We then move backwards and forwards through what at first glance is a loving relationship between a mother and her daughter but for me quite quickly became a little odd and unhealthy. While I started out feeling sorry for the mother I ended up really disliking her. Unlikeable characters are usually not a problem, but when combined with a story that just seemed to meander along with not a great deal of plot, I struggled to remain interested.
2.5 stars
The story starts with a mother looking through the window of a house at her daughter and her two granddaughters, who she has never met. We then move backwards and forwards through what at first glance is a loving relationship between a mother and her daughter but for me quite quickly became a little odd and unhealthy. While I started out feeling sorry for the mother I ended up really disliking her. Unlikeable characters are usually not a problem, but when combined with a story that just seemed to meander along with not a great deal of plot, I struggled to remain interested.
2.5 stars
May 5, 2021
ספר שלא הפסקתי לחשוב עליו גם כשלא קראתי בו.
"החיים הם מסע להחלמה מהילדות." איזה משפט. ספר שמצמיח שורשים בחזה ולא מרפה.
"החיים הם מסע להחלמה מהילדות." איזה משפט. ספר שמצמיח שורשים בחזה ולא מרפה.
January 14, 2025
I.. loved this. Something about it— the writing / narrator’s voice in particular — was so simplistically real. It was perfect. The quotidien details that were so specific and precise made it hard for me to put down, and at one point I had to stop and double check it was a novel I was reading and not a memoir because something about the little descriptions and small anecdotes made it feel all together too true. I felt like I floated through this novel. It has an ephemeral quality to it, and weaves together time through the beautiful gift and fallibility of memory wonderfully. My only critique would be in seeking a more developed / drawn out ending.
November 29, 2023
”..jag lärde mig älska andras barn, men kärleken till Lea var motsatsen till en inlärningsprocess, den innebar att glömma allt.”
Jag kunde inte instämma mer med berättaren Joela som vittnar om kärleken till sin älskade dotter Lea. Att vi först möter bokjaget när hon står i mörkret på gatan utanför sin vuxna dotters fönster och kikar in i smyg, går nästan förbi mig då jag är upprymd av kärleken till det lilla barnet nytt i världen. Men ganska snart inser jag att det är en psykologisk nagelbitare jag läser. Men aj, Lea oj, vad det bränner!
”Mina barnbarn hade kommit till världen utan att jag blev deras mormor, och hittills hade jag inte berättat det för någon.”
Min hjärna kastar fram förslag på lösningar: Dottern är säkert ett lättkränkt (ensam)barn av vår tid. Tvivelsutan grandios. Nej, mamman är förstås bipolär. Eller vänta, är det pappan som styr i lönn? Den ena vändningen efter den andra lockar mig genom hela verket som också har ett växlande tidsperspektiv. Mammans vansinnigt långa arm som hon lindat flera varv runt dottern som vore hon en spole, lindas upp och närhet blir till avstånd. Men realism och god kännedom om mänskligt beteende, snygga små detaljer i blickar och ordval läser jag om kärlek som blir en tvångströja. Och jag är helt och hållet lycklig när jag gör det.
”..livet är ett enda långt tillfrisknande från barndomen.”
Hila Blum har (förstås!) vunnit priser för sin lågmälda dunderbok som översatts till tjugo språk. En av sakerna jag älskar med Att älska sin dotter – förutom temat som undersöker hur en mor- och dotterrelation kan se ut och var gränserna går – och – att den också handlar om böcker och läsning – är den opålitliga berättaren. Joela har mig i sitt grepp. Läsaren får inget av Leas perspektiv och måste själv filtrera och få bukt med Joelas modus. Själv menar hon givetvis att hon gjort så gott hon kunnat.
”Jag gjorde det för hennes skull, såg ingen annan utväg, därför gjorde jag det. När jag gjorde det var avsikten klar för mig, men nu beklagar jag att jag gjorde det.”
Förutom att njuta av lyckorus blir jag påmind om en jävligt viktig sak. Jag är nämligen som Joela en förälder som är väldigt väldigt kär i avkommorna. Jag måste komma ihåg att mitt jobb som förälder inte i första hand handlar om att bli älskad av mina barn utan att barnen ska älska sig själva. De är sina egna som ska ut i stora vida världen. Jag tänkte stå kvar här så att de kan se tillbaka och upptäcka hur långt de kommit.
”Jag berättar allt jag vet och minns. Men minnet är svagt, ett material som är avsett för konst. Människor formar och målar med minnet, använder sig kreativt av det och därför har jag ibland tänkt att om Lea hade en bror eller syster skulle det vara vår räddning. Men vi var en hel rad av ensamma döttrar, min mamma var min mormors enda barn, jag var min mammas enda barn, i vårt hus var vi de enda vittnena till vårt liv, vår historia delades aldrig upp mellan olika talespersoner och blev heller aldrig motsagd av någon. Vårt minne var allenarådande, vi var ensamma om det, och eftersom vi såg normala ut var det ingen som blev misstänksam.”
Lea är en del av Joela rent bokstavligt – men hon är mer än så väl?
Jag kunde inte instämma mer med berättaren Joela som vittnar om kärleken till sin älskade dotter Lea. Att vi först möter bokjaget när hon står i mörkret på gatan utanför sin vuxna dotters fönster och kikar in i smyg, går nästan förbi mig då jag är upprymd av kärleken till det lilla barnet nytt i världen. Men ganska snart inser jag att det är en psykologisk nagelbitare jag läser. Men aj, Lea oj, vad det bränner!
”Mina barnbarn hade kommit till världen utan att jag blev deras mormor, och hittills hade jag inte berättat det för någon.”
Min hjärna kastar fram förslag på lösningar: Dottern är säkert ett lättkränkt (ensam)barn av vår tid. Tvivelsutan grandios. Nej, mamman är förstås bipolär. Eller vänta, är det pappan som styr i lönn? Den ena vändningen efter den andra lockar mig genom hela verket som också har ett växlande tidsperspektiv. Mammans vansinnigt långa arm som hon lindat flera varv runt dottern som vore hon en spole, lindas upp och närhet blir till avstånd. Men realism och god kännedom om mänskligt beteende, snygga små detaljer i blickar och ordval läser jag om kärlek som blir en tvångströja. Och jag är helt och hållet lycklig när jag gör det.
”..livet är ett enda långt tillfrisknande från barndomen.”
Hila Blum har (förstås!) vunnit priser för sin lågmälda dunderbok som översatts till tjugo språk. En av sakerna jag älskar med Att älska sin dotter – förutom temat som undersöker hur en mor- och dotterrelation kan se ut och var gränserna går – och – att den också handlar om böcker och läsning – är den opålitliga berättaren. Joela har mig i sitt grepp. Läsaren får inget av Leas perspektiv och måste själv filtrera och få bukt med Joelas modus. Själv menar hon givetvis att hon gjort så gott hon kunnat.
”Jag gjorde det för hennes skull, såg ingen annan utväg, därför gjorde jag det. När jag gjorde det var avsikten klar för mig, men nu beklagar jag att jag gjorde det.”
Förutom att njuta av lyckorus blir jag påmind om en jävligt viktig sak. Jag är nämligen som Joela en förälder som är väldigt väldigt kär i avkommorna. Jag måste komma ihåg att mitt jobb som förälder inte i första hand handlar om att bli älskad av mina barn utan att barnen ska älska sig själva. De är sina egna som ska ut i stora vida världen. Jag tänkte stå kvar här så att de kan se tillbaka och upptäcka hur långt de kommit.
”Jag berättar allt jag vet och minns. Men minnet är svagt, ett material som är avsett för konst. Människor formar och målar med minnet, använder sig kreativt av det och därför har jag ibland tänkt att om Lea hade en bror eller syster skulle det vara vår räddning. Men vi var en hel rad av ensamma döttrar, min mamma var min mormors enda barn, jag var min mammas enda barn, i vårt hus var vi de enda vittnena till vårt liv, vår historia delades aldrig upp mellan olika talespersoner och blev heller aldrig motsagd av någon. Vårt minne var allenarådande, vi var ensamma om det, och eftersom vi såg normala ut var det ingen som blev misstänksam.”
Lea är en del av Joela rent bokstavligt – men hon är mer än så väl?
July 1, 2024
"τώρα νομίζω ότι δε με ενδιαφέρουν πλέον οι δυστυχισμένες οικογένειες,με ενδιαφέρει μόνο η δυστυχία των ευτυχισμένων οικογενειών ,η ευθραυστότητα της μέσης κατάστασης : της οικογένειας που μεγάλωσα ,της οικογένειας που έκανα "
Υπάρχει εγχειρίδιο για το πώς πρέπει ένας γονιός να αγαπά τα παιδιά του ? Ποιο είναι το σωστό ? Ποιο το λάθος ? Δεν είμαι γονιός ,γι'αυτό και πολλές φορές απολαμβάνω να κάθομαι στη θέση του θεατή ,την καλύτερη δυνατή θέση για να κρίνεις ,να παρατηρείς ,να εντοπίζεις λάθη,παραλείψεις ,να σημειώνεις ,να καταστροφολογεις ...η αλήθεια είναι ότι πολλές φορές σκέφτομαι ότι αυτή τη θέση την απολαμβάνω πολύ περισσότερο από αυτή που θα είχα ως γονιός .η ασφάλεια που σου δίνει ,το "αλάθητο ",ή τουλάχιστον η πεποίθηση ότι τα δικά σου λάθη δε θα επηρεάσουν ούτε θα καθορίσουν μια άλλη αθώα ψυχή .σε αυτή τη θέση σε τοποθετεί και η αφηγήτρια ,μια μητέρα (αλλά και κόρη μιας άλλης μητέρας,που την καθόρισε)που σου εξιστορεί τη ζωή της ,αλλά κυρίως τη σχέση της με την κόρη της που τη μεγάλωσε ως μια παραχαιδεμενη κόρη ,μια ξεχωριστή ,πανέμορφη ,πανέξυπνη ,κέντρο της απόλυτης προσοχής που αξίζει ,αλλά κυρίως επιβάλλεται να έχει την απόλυτη καθολική αποδοχή,αφήνοντας τον εαυτό της απόλυτα ευάλωτο στη δική σου κρίση .. "Κανεις δεν κακομαθε από την πολλή αγάπη " ,"είσαι η καλύτερη " ,"σου τα λένε αυτά γιατί σε ζηλεύουν " ,είναι μερικές μόνο ατάκες που συχνά έχουμε ακούσει να λέγονται σε παιδιά /για παιδιά για να "πάρει τα πάνω τους " η αυτοπεποίθηση τους ,αλλά είναι τελικά όλο αυτό σωστό ? Στην περίπτωση του βιβλίου είναι η συνταγή για την απόλυτη καταστροφή μιας και αυτή η σχέση μάνας /κόρης ,οδηγεί σε ένα ντόμινο καταστροφικών εξελίξεων όχι μόνο για τις ίδιες ,αλλά και για τον περίγυρο τους ..
Είναι ένα βιβλίο που δε με ενθουσίασε ,έχω διαβάσει απείρως καλύτερα που πραγματεύονται το εν λόγω θέμα ,ειδικά στα 3/4 του είχα αποφασίσει ότι θα δώσω μια σχεδόν κακή βαθμολογία ,αλλά μετά υπήρξε μια εξέλιξη και υπήρξαν και 20 τελευταίες σελίδες που μίλησαν πολύ μέσα μου και σε αυτό βγάζω το καπέλο στη συγγραφέα για το πώς κάπως έσωσε την κατάσταση ...
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Υπάρχει εγχειρίδιο για το πώς πρέπει ένας γονιός να αγαπά τα παιδιά του ? Ποιο είναι το σωστό ? Ποιο το λάθος ? Δεν είμαι γονιός ,γι'αυτό και πολλές φορές απολαμβάνω να κάθομαι στη θέση του θεατή ,την καλύτερη δυνατή θέση για να κρίνεις ,να παρατηρείς ,να εντοπίζεις λάθη,παραλείψεις ,να σημειώνεις ,να καταστροφολογεις ...η αλήθεια είναι ότι πολλές φορές σκέφτομαι ότι αυτή τη θέση την απολαμβάνω πολύ περισσότερο από αυτή που θα είχα ως γονιός .η ασφάλεια που σου δίνει ,το "αλάθητο ",ή τουλάχιστον η πεποίθηση ότι τα δικά σου λάθη δε θα επηρεάσουν ούτε θα καθορίσουν μια άλλη αθώα ψυχή .σε αυτή τη θέση σε τοποθετεί και η αφηγήτρια ,μια μητέρα (αλλά και κόρη μιας άλλης μητέρας,που την καθόρισε)που σου εξιστορεί τη ζωή της ,αλλά κυρίως τη σχέση της με την κόρη της που τη μεγάλωσε ως μια παραχαιδεμενη κόρη ,μια ξεχωριστή ,πανέμορφη ,πανέξυπνη ,κέντρο της απόλυτης προσοχής που αξίζει ,αλλά κυρίως επιβάλλεται να έχει την απόλυτη καθολική αποδοχή,αφήνοντας τον εαυτό της απόλυτα ευάλωτο στη δική σου κρίση .. "Κανεις δεν κακομαθε από την πολλή αγάπη " ,"είσαι η καλύτερη " ,"σου τα λένε αυτά γιατί σε ζηλεύουν " ,είναι μερικές μόνο ατάκες που συχνά έχουμε ακούσει να λέγονται σε παιδιά /για παιδιά για να "πάρει τα πάνω τους " η αυτοπεποίθηση τους ,αλλά είναι τελικά όλο αυτό σωστό ? Στην περίπτωση του βιβλίου είναι η συνταγή για την απόλυτη καταστροφή μιας και αυτή η σχέση μάνας /κόρης ,οδηγεί σε ένα ντόμινο καταστροφικών εξελίξεων όχι μόνο για τις ίδιες ,αλλά και για τον περίγυρο τους ..
Είναι ένα βιβλίο που δε με ενθουσίασε ,έχω διαβάσει απείρως καλύτερα που πραγματεύονται το εν λόγω θέμα ,ειδικά στα 3/4 του είχα αποφασίσει ότι θα δώσω μια σχεδόν κακή βαθμολογία ,αλλά μετά υπήρξε μια εξέλιξη και υπήρξαν και 20 τελευταίες σελίδες που μίλησαν πολύ μέσα μου και σε αυτό βγάζω το καπέλο στη συγγραφέα για το πώς κάπως έσωσε την κατάσταση ...
🌟🌟🌟/5 αστέρια
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