Clara Isabel Alegría Vides was a Nicaraguan poet, essayist, novelist, and journalist who is a major voice in the literature of contemporary Central America. She writes under the pseudonym Claribel Alegría. She was awarded the 2006 Neustadt International Prize for Literature.
Los poemas son muy poderosos y transmiten un amor fuerte por la patria. A lo largo del libro, hay muchos errores tipográficos en la versión original, lo cual encontré poco profesional y, además, me parece ser una falta de respecto ante la poeta. La traducción de Forché hace cambios innecesarios, tales como reunir versos separados y buscar, tal como lo sugiere otra revista, darles un toque periodístico a los poemas que al origen no lo tienen porque se escriben "con lágrimas / y uñas / y carbón." Son testimonios, espacios por los que han desaparecidos sin trazos, pero sí dejando sus historias. En sumo, los poemas de Alegría captan la atención y crean un paso para aprender sobre vidas escondidas en la oscuridad.
Flawless, peerless visionary poetry, served up in translation by another of our best poets, Carolyn Forché. Claribel Alegría’s voice is immediate, candid and glows with love and understanding for the community which she celebrates and represents. This collection really is required reading, not least of all for the exciting considerations it offers on the intersectionality of identity, but also for the proud way it sings, like a little bird in the morning, chirping as the sun begins to shine on its branch—seemingly before illuminating anything else.
A poetry book about Santa Ana, the town i was born in. I remember grabbing this book cause i really like the cover, and seeing that it was by a Salvadorian woman and about the town i was born in I instantly bought it. I love the imagery she uses and humanity she puts onto the people of Salvador. Using lighting and descriptive phrases when writing about how it feels like to go down a road in Santa Ana. I would definitely recommend to anyone ever
Four for the poetry, two and a half for the translation job. Forche unnecessarily condenses and streamlines, adds punctuation and grammar, to fit her more pedestrian ("journalistic") style rather than doing justice to Alegria's more rambling, descriptive, less explicit flow.
Also, important question: why do all used poetry books smell like the inside of an ashtray?
Flowers from the Volcano is a small collection of devastating, spare, and sadly beautiful exercises of memory as Claribel Algeria finds humanity and place in the rubble of pain and oppression.