Bøger af Maria Negroni

El corazón del daño, este dispositivo literario abierto y complejo, recupera el diccionario doméstico de injurias y amenazas, donde las palabras proyectan desde la lejana casa familiar su poder de presagio y convierten el sueño en pesadilla.   La obra de María Negroni huye de cualquier taxonomía. Su referencia más clara podría ser Anne Carson. Como ella, Negroni despliega una narrativa extremadamente lírica, a la vez seca, precisa y voluptuosa.   En El corazón del daño, combina la biografía, la nota íntima, la observación afilada y sagaz, la crónica política, el léxico familiar y la canción de la desesperada. Todos los recursos para contar una vida y despedir a una madre también desesperante, también desesperada. Pero en la recuperación que es todo duelo, hay una intención novedosa: la de compartir esas experiencias y las asociaciones literarias. “Una mujer difícil y hermosa ocupa el centro y la circunferencia de esa casa. Tiene los ojos grandes, los labios pintados de rojo. Se llama Isabel.”   Los recuerdos de esa madre que lo ocupa todo surgen nítidos, pero para pensarlos y transmitirlos -darle la piel de las palabras- la memoria es como un objeto que hay que girar. De cada cara del prisma, un rayo de luz se descompone. ¿O es que son una esfera? La autora va a aplastar ese material, maleable e inasible, para que quepa entre las tapas de este libro.ENGLISH DESCRIPTIONThe Heart of Harm, this literary devise, open and complex, restores the domestic dictionary of insults and threats, where words project their power of foreshadowing from the distant family home and turn dreams into nightmares.   María Negroni’s work shuns away from all taxonomies. Her most obvious reference might be Anne Carson.  In The Heart of Harm, Negroni blends biography, intimate entries, sharp and keen observation, political chronicle, family lexicon, and the song of the desperate. All the necessary resources to tell a life and bid farewell to a mother both exasperating and desperate. But in her recovery, which is nothing but grief, there’s a new intention: sharing these experiences and literary associations. “A difficult and beautiful woman is at the heart and the circumference of that house. She has big eyes, lips painted red. Her name is Isabel.”   Memories of that mother that takes up everything surge crystal-clear, but in order to think about them and convey them—to give her flesh from words—memory becomes an object you must rotate. From each face of the prism, a ray of light dissolves. Or is it that memory is actually a sphere? The author is going to crush that malleable and elusive matter to make it fit the covers of this book.

One of South America's most celebrated contemporary poets takes us on a fantastic voyage to mysterious lands and seas, into the psyche, and to the heart of the poem itself. Night Journey is the English-language debut of the work that won Maria Negroni an Argentine National Book Award. It is a book of dreams--dreams she renders with surreal beauty that recalls the work of her compatriot Alejandra Pizarnik, with the penetrating subtlety of Borges and Calvino. In sixty-two tightly woven prose poems, Negroni deftly infuses haunting imagery with an ironic, personal spirituality. Effortlessly she navigates the nameless subject to the slopes of the Himalayas, to a bar in Buenos Aires, through war, from icy Scandinavian landscapes to the tropics, across seas, toward a cemetery in the wake of Napoleon's hearse, by train, by taxis headed in unrequested directions, past mirrors and birds, between life and death. Night Journey reflects a mastery of a traditional form while brilliantly expressing a modern condition: the multicultural, multifaceted individual, ever in motion. Displacement abounds: a "e;medieval tabard"e; where a pelvis should be, a "e;lipless grin,"e; a "e;beach severed from the ocean."e; In one poem "e;nomadic cities"e; whisk past. In another, smiling cockroaches loom in a visiting mother's eyes. Anne Twitty, whose elegant translations are accompanied by the Spanish originals, remarks in her preface that the book's "e;indomitable literary intelligence"e; subdues an unspoken terror--helplessness. Yet, as observed by the angel Gabriel, the consoling voice of wisdom, only by accepting the journey for what it is can one discover its "e;hidden splendor,"e; the "e;invisible center of the poem."e; As readers of this magnificent work will discover, this is a journey that, because its every fleeting image conjures a thousand words of fertile silence, can be savored again and again.