“… aqueste no acordarme no es olvido / sino una negación de la memoria”, escribió sor Juana al final de uno de sus sonetos. Tres siglos y medio después, Coral Bracho hace de esa “negación” de la memoria capaz de rechazar y ordenar a su arbitrio, y ya descoyuntada aquí por el Alzheimer, su materia de la memoria y sus universos paralelos, cables cruzados y uróboros, su simultánea cualidad de archivo vacío y de hallazgo, de avidez de sentido y pérdida de goznes claves, se perciben aquí con la minuciosidad quirúrgica de Bracho, pero, también, con un nuevo estremecimiento. Nada es lo que parece y aparece entre esas voces reconocibles que se intercalan y dialogan en un universo ubicuo, dislocado y regulador que poco a poco se desvanece, ¿un kínder, un sanatorio, un asilo?, para expresar lo que observan, lo que temen y esperan. Cada volumen de Bracho —y Debe ser un malentendido no es la excepción— genera un curioso “efecto Mandela” en sus la sensación de recordar su espléndida obra de otro modo, de resultarnos familiar pero distinta (pero distante) de los rasgos que solían caracterizarla. Con tal procedimiento, la autora armó este rompecabezas cuyas piezas “se pierden, pero no la mirada / que lo sabe suyo. / Las formas, los objetos, se funden, / se desmoronan; pero el sentido / del conjunto entre momentos, / entre ficciones, / bajo fracturas incesantes. Como un umbral, un asidero”. Coral Bracho ha escrito un libro memorable sobre la desmemoria. Pero no só ha dado voz a sus incómodos silencios, y ha buscado acercarse, para desentrañarlos y volverlos visibles, a esos espacios, en apariencia insólitos y recónditos, que a todos de un modo u otro nos atañen, nos pertenecen.
Bracho is winner of the Aguacalientes National Poetry Prize in 1981 and a Guggenheim Fellowship in 2000. She received the 2004 Xavier Villaurrutia Award for her book, Ese Espacio, Ese Jardin. She is a member of the Sistema Nacional de Creadores de Arte (National Artists’ Center), and in 2007 she was awarded the award “Programa de Aliento a la Obra Literaria de la Fundación para las Letras Mexicanas” in recognition of her work.
Recently I came across an article on the Mexican poet Coral Bracho, who won the Premio FIL de Literatura 2023.* She spoke with a calm quiet demeanour these words, “poetry makes us see life as something dazzling, intense and vital.” I can’t argue this. Poetry has always been under the radar, even though some, like myself have always been amazed at the beauty of the verse. Vital? I was very curious when I came across this book that has brought her some acclaim in Mexico.
Translated as “it must to be a misunderstanding” this book published in 2018 and reprinted in 2023 is stellar. The book is about the memory or at least, recalling the memory of her mother who had Alzheimer’s and died in 2012.
Divided into nine chapters, the book recalls themes such as impressions, observations, intuitions, and diary. Although told from the poet’s view, she interjects the voice of her mother (intuitions and habla ella). That voice is confused, at times fearful or even demanding. It’s chilling and yet, endearing. The loss is very much present.
Ese lugar del que hablas, cuando llevas tanto sin poder hablar, cuando no puedes ya reconocer tu casa, y se han borrado los rostros, las historias. Ese lugar donde queda “el amour”; lo “más importante,” me dices, y esta “dentro de ti”; ese lugar que es tuyo, y te sostiene; que te abre al mundo. (Diario)
That place from what you speak when it takes you so much without the power to speak? When you can’t even recognize your house, and has swept away those faces, the stories. That place where “love” remains; “that is most important,” you tell me, and that “is inside you”; that place that is yours, and sustains you, that opens you to the world.
Poetry does in fact makes us see life as something dazzling, intense and vital Powerful words. Read her work!
Beautiful poetry. This collection had the original poems in Spanish as well as their English translations. It’s about the poet’s mother and her journey with Alzheimer’s. The poems explores themes of meaning and memory through categories of diary entries, intuitions, and observations. I really enjoyed the collection overall and would love to revisit it in the future to see what I may have missed.
Nunca he sido arrastrada por el caudal de un río y sin embargo siento que se sentiría como este libro. Mis partes favoritas fueron la VIII y IX, una extraña y dolorosa paz.
From the moment I learned this book was about a member of their family having Alzheimer I knew it would break my heart. The beginning is a beautiful telling on how their days go and conversations their having, like being inside this person's mind and seeing the world through their eyes. As soon as you get closer to the last couple of chapters, you know what's coming. I was sobing by the last chapter. How can you put the feelings in words when there's really no words to describe the pain you feel when someone you love is not able to see you. Such an amazing way to take us through a painful path while keeping it beautiful.
Si te quieres sentir como una tonta para la poesía, este es el libro para ti. Pero debo de decir que además de eso, Bracho maneja un juego del lenguaje muy preciso, trabajado pero sobre todo, hermoso. Los movimientos que nos llevan a los versos, funcionan como pasadizos secretos de una casa. Lo mejor, es que quizá muchos no existan y otros sí. Lo más interesante es la relación que existe con la perdida de la memoria y sus poemas. Nos encontramos pero no, ¿Fuimos o no? ¿Esto en verdad está pasando o ya lo olvidé? ¿Dónde está el recuerdo? En serio es muy precioso.
Este poemario es un seguimiento lingüístico-pictórico (pero sobre todo sentimental) de lo que significa tener cerca a alguien que poco a poco va perdiendo la memoria. Sentí que estaba leyendo a alguien que hablaba de mi Tita.
i feel lucky to be able to have enough of a grasp of the original language to stumble through half of the volume. i feel even luckier to tumble through the translations, which are written with a lot of care within a body of work that feels so deeply personal, on fire, and compassionate. i'm constantly unlocking new ways of expanding curiosity, loving grief and being loving, and reading in general, and i feel the fullness and excitement of being able to do so through reading poetry.
as i tend to do with poetry (though i'd like to probably document this more consistently), i will be poring over this volume many, many times.
who knows if that made sense. "se sabe que se sabe, y se sabe / que no se sabe"
A causa de presión social de la literatura aquí en monterrey terminé leyendo a Coral Bracho. Yo sabía, porque se me repitió en muchas ocasiones, que es de las poetas más consagradas a nivel nacional. Aún no me acostumbro a su escritura, pero claro que este libro me deja con ganas de seguir leyéndola.
Bracho es de esas poetas que al leerlas, te obligan a llevar cierto ritmo: el tono de estos poemas son lentos, a fragmentos que simulan un alzheimer y de pronto se escapan. Una maestra del encabalgamiento sin duda alguna.
Tras la ventana, la luz trae vida a una sombra: la memoria es tan frágil como un pájaro descansando en la mano de un gigante. ¿Qué es peor, no recordar o mirar al que olvida?
“(Intuiciones)
Lo último que te aferra entre el derrumbamiento de la memoria, lo último que se rompe y se desteje con ella, es la búsqueda de sentido; reconocerte en ti; y una ávida, estrecha liga con la especie: captar e imaginar lo que otro siente; seguir los tonos del lenguaje; nombrar y concebir lo abstracto: el amor, la injusticia; sentir y disfrutar la belleza, la música. “
lovely collection of poetry about the author’s mother who has Alzheimer’s and the progression of the disease. working within the Alzheimer’s population, I knew this would probably be an impactful read and it definitely was. lots of raw emotion and really beautiful. I don’t think this is as accessible/easy to read poetry as others I typically read, so I would recommend to people who enjoy poetry and read it a bit more frequently.
Bracho ganó hoy el premio FIL de Literatura en Lenguas Romances 2023. Encontré este librito en una librería de Xalapa y tuve que llevármelo. Bracho es una poeta de una delicadeza monstruosa. Incluso al hablar de cosas extraordinariamente dolorosas, logra hablarnos con una voz hasta serena.
bought this poetry book for my now bf a couple months ago and read it before giving it to him. i loved the poetry and it made me feel nostalgic, but in a beautifully sentimental way.
A collection of poems by a celebrated Mexican poet, on the subject of her mother and her struggle with Alzheimer's disease. These poems—divided into sections, perhaps to mimic the progression of the disease—reflect her mother's mental and physical decline, as well as the gradual "stages" of loss that they both experience. For Bracho's mother, that is the loss of her memories and cognizance; for Bracho, that is the loss of her mother. It's always nice when translated collections include the original text alongside the translation, which reveal certain things about the meter, rhyme, cadence, etc. of the original poem that might not have been carried over into another language. Bracho employs a lot of dream language in her poetry, a vagueness of imagery that works especially well with the themes of loss and grief, often feeling ungraspable as her mother steadily becomes incomprehensible to her. Eventually, this vagueness becomes all consuming, broken only by all too brief snatches of introspection—"How do you?"—that seem to reveal the keen mind obfuscated by dementia.
Obra que explora la pérdida que implica el Alzheimer, con profunda sensibilidad y un dominio absoluto de la lengua Bracho construye sus poemas que funcionan como las notas dejadas para recordar algo que ya no sabemos para qué tenemos que recordar. Otros poemas son como los presentimientos de todo lo que se pierde, lo que permanece a pesar de la memoria que se nos va.