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Still Born
Still Born, Guadalupe Nettel's fourth novel, treats one of the most consequential decisions of early adulthood – whether or not to have children – with the intelligence and originality that have won her international acclaim. Alina and Laura are independent and career-driven women in their mid-thirties, neither of whom have built their future around the prospect of a family. Laura has taken the drastic decision to be sterilized, but as time goes by Alina becomes drawn to the idea of becoming a mother. When Alina’s daughter survives childbirth – after a diagnosis that predicted the opposite – and Laura becomes attached to her neighbour’s son, both women are forced to reckon with the complexity of their emotions.
In prose that is as gripping as it is insightful, Guadalupe Nettel explores maternal ambivalence with a surgeon’s touch, carefully dissecting the contradictions that make up the lived experiences of women.
In prose that is as gripping as it is insightful, Guadalupe Nettel explores maternal ambivalence with a surgeon’s touch, carefully dissecting the contradictions that make up the lived experiences of women.
219 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 2020
699 people are currently reading
60541 people want to read
About the author
Guadalupe Nettel
37 books1,685 followersGuadalupe Nettel (born 1973) is a Mexican writer. She was born in Mexico City and obtained a PhD in linguistics from the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales in Paris. She has published in several genres, both fiction and non-fiction.
Nettel is a prolific author and a regular contributor to both Spanish- and French-language magazines, including Letras Libres, Hoja por hoja, L'atelier du roman, and L'inconvénient. In 2006 she was voted one of thirty-nine most important Latin American writers under the age of thirty-nine at the Bogotá Hay Festival.
She has lived in Montreal and Paris, and is now based in Barcelona, where she works as a translator and holds writing seminars and a workshop on Potential Literature (based on the French Oulipo). She is the author of Juegos de artificio [False Games], Les jours fossiles [Fossil Days], Pétalos y otras historias incómodas [Petals and other Awkward Stories], and El huésped [The Host], and the recipient of the Premio Herralde, third place, for El huésped, and the 2008 Premio Antonin Artaud and the 2007 Gilbert Owen Short Story Prize in Mexico for Pétalos.
Guadalupe Nettel’s stories have been described as “marvellous” by the distinguished Colombian author Juan Gabriel Vázquez, and the critic Juan Ignacio Boido has praised Nettel’s creation of “a universe where Roberto Bolaño’s visceral poets rub shoulders with the fragile but unbreakable women of Haruki Murakami.”
Nettel is a prolific author and a regular contributor to both Spanish- and French-language magazines, including Letras Libres, Hoja por hoja, L'atelier du roman, and L'inconvénient. In 2006 she was voted one of thirty-nine most important Latin American writers under the age of thirty-nine at the Bogotá Hay Festival.
She has lived in Montreal and Paris, and is now based in Barcelona, where she works as a translator and holds writing seminars and a workshop on Potential Literature (based on the French Oulipo). She is the author of Juegos de artificio [False Games], Les jours fossiles [Fossil Days], Pétalos y otras historias incómodas [Petals and other Awkward Stories], and El huésped [The Host], and the recipient of the Premio Herralde, third place, for El huésped, and the 2008 Premio Antonin Artaud and the 2007 Gilbert Owen Short Story Prize in Mexico for Pétalos.
Guadalupe Nettel’s stories have been described as “marvellous” by the distinguished Colombian author Juan Gabriel Vázquez, and the critic Juan Ignacio Boido has praised Nettel’s creation of “a universe where Roberto Bolaño’s visceral poets rub shoulders with the fragile but unbreakable women of Haruki Murakami.”
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 4,068 reviews
April 18, 2023
Now shortlisted for the Booker International Prize 2023
I plan to rate all the books I read this year before writing my review for 2022 on Goodreads. I will write a few words about each unrated book and hopefully I will return with more when I have more time.
Still Born is another good publishing choice from Fitzcarraldo. It is not surprising as they publish excellent novels, especially in translation. The novel, translated from Spanish, discusses maternity and the choice not to have children by exploring the life of two women. One decides not to have children and takes extreme measure in that respect, the other one changes her mind and becomes a mother but the child is born with serious health issues. It was a powerful and moving novel.
I plan to rate all the books I read this year before writing my review for 2022 on Goodreads. I will write a few words about each unrated book and hopefully I will return with more when I have more time.
Still Born is another good publishing choice from Fitzcarraldo. It is not surprising as they publish excellent novels, especially in translation. The novel, translated from Spanish, discusses maternity and the choice not to have children by exploring the life of two women. One decides not to have children and takes extreme measure in that respect, the other one changes her mind and becomes a mother but the child is born with serious health issues. It was a powerful and moving novel.
January 30, 2022
La maternidad es más compleja de cómo la vemos en las películas. Hay tantas cosas detrás que no conocemos ni entendemos. Y este libro me enseñó mucho sobre el deseo de ser madre y a su vez, el deseo de no serlo.
Sin duda una historia que deberían de leer muchos para comprender la importancia de un embarazo deseado y las implicaciones que conlleva. Sobretodo en una sociedad que disfruta de imponer en la vida de otros.
Sin duda una historia que deberían de leer muchos para comprender la importancia de un embarazo deseado y las implicaciones que conlleva. Sobretodo en una sociedad que disfruta de imponer en la vida de otros.
September 22, 2025
i fear i'm falling in love with yet another edition.
these are just too well curated.
https://emmareadstoomuch.substack.com...
this book explores the topic of motherhood on hard mode: by following two women, one who does not want children and yet begins to care for the troubled son of her neighbor, and one who changes her mind and becomes pregnant only to give birth to a baby with immense health problems.
it's very short and its multitudinous chapters are even shorter, but it manages to cover so much — not only the nuanced feelings of our protagonists but of their friends, mother, nanny.
extraordinary.
bottom line: fitzcarraldo, you have my attention.
these are just too well curated.
https://emmareadstoomuch.substack.com...
this book explores the topic of motherhood on hard mode: by following two women, one who does not want children and yet begins to care for the troubled son of her neighbor, and one who changes her mind and becomes pregnant only to give birth to a baby with immense health problems.
it's very short and its multitudinous chapters are even shorter, but it manages to cover so much — not only the nuanced feelings of our protagonists but of their friends, mother, nanny.
extraordinary.
bottom line: fitzcarraldo, you have my attention.
December 8, 2022
Still Born is Rosalind Harvey's translation of Guadalupe Nettel's La hija única, a nuanced look at motherhood. The story is told from the perspective of Laura, a 30-something woman in Mexico City who is childless by choice. Although Laura does not herself have children. she is surrounded by others who do, notably her friend Alina, who experiences an unanticipated pregnancy and learns that her child carries a genetic disorder. This premise allows Nettel to explore a range of emotions and perspectives, all revolving around the bundle of issues wrapped up in what it means to be a mother. It is a sober work that doesn't present easy answers and explores issues in all their complexity. Although this isn't a novel that particularly resonated with me, it's impossible not to recognize the skill and nuance of the piece. I can see how many readers derive great meaning from this work.
December 23, 2020
Una novela íntima y cercana a la amistad de las mujeres. Acá Guadalupe Nettel nos narra cómo se entrelazan las historias de tres mujeres, una que puede perder a su hija cuando ella nazca, otra que nunca quiere ser madre y finalmente aquella que ya es madre pero está harta de ello. Estas tres mujeres son un ejemplo de fortaleza a su manera y también un retrato vivo de situaciones comunes sobre la maternidad, la amistad y el cuidado. Por momentos es angustiante y por otros es esperanzadora. Como siempre me encanta leer a Nettel, pareciera que en lo más simple y común logra describir los lazos humanos de la forma más minuciosa. Al final me quedé pensando mucho en la crianza colectiva, en el cuidado al otre, en una maternidad deseada y nuestras relaciones con otras mujeres.
April 18, 2023
Now shortlisted for the 2023 International Booker
This is a book which explores maternity and motherhood along a whole spectrum, from the woman who doesn't want motherhood but who still finds herself drawn to the child of a troubled neighbour, to the woman who changes her mind and gets pregnant only to be faced with far more than she ever imagined. It's one of the most nuanced treatments I've read of what has become an increasingly contentious topic and Nettel avoids simplistic positions for a variety of grey areas - and it's this nuance and the avoidance of uncomplicated attitudes and stances that made this such involving reading.
The voice of Laura, the narrator, is one with which I instantly bonded - the writing is clear and unflashy but also intimate and quietly enthralling. A wonderfully fluent translation too by Rosalind Harvey - just a shame that there was less of a sense of Mexico City than I expected: this book could have been transported to London, say, without having to change a thing.
Even before finishing this I was checking out Nettel's back catalogue: this may be hard reading at times but I found it utterly gripping.
Many thanks to Fitzcarraldo Editions for an ARC via NetGalley
This is a book which explores maternity and motherhood along a whole spectrum, from the woman who doesn't want motherhood but who still finds herself drawn to the child of a troubled neighbour, to the woman who changes her mind and gets pregnant only to be faced with far more than she ever imagined. It's one of the most nuanced treatments I've read of what has become an increasingly contentious topic and Nettel avoids simplistic positions for a variety of grey areas - and it's this nuance and the avoidance of uncomplicated attitudes and stances that made this such involving reading.
The voice of Laura, the narrator, is one with which I instantly bonded - the writing is clear and unflashy but also intimate and quietly enthralling. A wonderfully fluent translation too by Rosalind Harvey - just a shame that there was less of a sense of Mexico City than I expected: this book could have been transported to London, say, without having to change a thing.
Even before finishing this I was checking out Nettel's back catalogue: this may be hard reading at times but I found it utterly gripping.
Many thanks to Fitzcarraldo Editions for an ARC via NetGalley
November 6, 2020
Quest'anno (lo so, è presto ma concedetemi di pensare di chiudere sto bisestile il prima possibile) ho letto circa 80 libri. Li segno su un quaderno, più che qui così lo tengo sul comodino e ogni tanto faccio delle riflessioni - I'm old, la carta e bla bla bla. Ho notato che ho letto la maggior parte dei libri scritti da donne, senza una scelta precisa, senza un obbiettivo femminista o di accrescimento culturale in quel senso, senza, sicuramente, seguire un percorso.
Le scelte sono nate dai miei solito approfondimenti, dai consigli di chi mi fido, di qualche lista. Ho imparato a tornare al vecchio stile e usare meno i social, anche se, non lo nego certo, per star dietro alle nuove uscite sono impareggiabili.
Insomma, per farla breve, la Nettel l'avevo già scoperta lo scorso anno con un romanzo che mi aveva lasciato tiepidina. Le ho fato una seconda chance perché mi interessava l'argomento e devo dire che ho fatto molto bene. Il libro parla di maternità, di come si può essere materne senza figli, di quello che le donne fanno da sempre: prendersi cura degli altri. La vicenda potrebbe essere a tratti drammatica, a tratti con delle idee di lieto fine, ma la costante in ogni pagina è di vivere un giorno alla volta, come si può, come si riesce, scoprendo cose di noi, parlando con le amiche, scegliendo di scappare.
Attenzione non c'è una morale, non ci sono insegnamenti, non ci sono certezze, ci sono scelte che sembrano definitive e poi non lo sono mai. Insomma c'è la vita di ciascuna di noi, o forse solo la mia, chissà.
Ho bevuto vino rosso, come quasi sempre in questo meraviglioso autunno, chiusa quasi sempre dentro, come tutti, ma con questa luce fuori, con gli alberi che cambiano colore, come le nostre regioni e con le foglie che cadono, come sapete già cosa casca invece a noi.
Le scelte sono nate dai miei solito approfondimenti, dai consigli di chi mi fido, di qualche lista. Ho imparato a tornare al vecchio stile e usare meno i social, anche se, non lo nego certo, per star dietro alle nuove uscite sono impareggiabili.
Insomma, per farla breve, la Nettel l'avevo già scoperta lo scorso anno con un romanzo che mi aveva lasciato tiepidina. Le ho fato una seconda chance perché mi interessava l'argomento e devo dire che ho fatto molto bene. Il libro parla di maternità, di come si può essere materne senza figli, di quello che le donne fanno da sempre: prendersi cura degli altri. La vicenda potrebbe essere a tratti drammatica, a tratti con delle idee di lieto fine, ma la costante in ogni pagina è di vivere un giorno alla volta, come si può, come si riesce, scoprendo cose di noi, parlando con le amiche, scegliendo di scappare.
Attenzione non c'è una morale, non ci sono insegnamenti, non ci sono certezze, ci sono scelte che sembrano definitive e poi non lo sono mai. Insomma c'è la vita di ciascuna di noi, o forse solo la mia, chissà.
Ho bevuto vino rosso, come quasi sempre in questo meraviglioso autunno, chiusa quasi sempre dentro, come tutti, ma con questa luce fuori, con gli alberi che cambiano colore, come le nostre regioni e con le foglie che cadono, come sapete già cosa casca invece a noi.
November 1, 2022
Still Born is a deeply-compelling exploration of motherhood and the maternal in numerous guises, from the conventional to the provisional and unanticipated. At its centre are two friends Laura, the narrator, and Alina. At first, they’re united in their distaste of any kind of future in which children play a role, comfortably going about their childfree lives set apart from the sect of “zombie-like” mothers. Laura’s working on her thesis, traveling between her base in Mexico City and the archives necessary for her research. When she finally settles in Mexico again, she finds that Alina's now desperate to conceive. But when the longed-for pregnancy finally happens, it’s not anything that Alina imagined it would be. Meanwhile Laura forges a bond with her neighbours, struggling, single mother Doris and her small son Nico, that also leads her somewhere unexpected. Their stories unfold against a backdrop of violence, in a country of marked inequality and femicide which haunts their consciousness and invades their sense of self.
It's a remarkably disciplined piece that deals with some challenging subjects from the possibility of mothering a child with profound disabilities to the legacy of male violence and its impact on the generations that follow. Guadalupe Nettel’s narrative's acutely observed, sometimes unsettling, sometimes tender. She approaches her material with admirable restraint. Her prose is quiet and coolly distanced at points in her story where lesser writers might resort to melodrama but which somehow adds to its intensity and emotional impact. Nettel’s an award-winning writer whose work’s been singled out on lists of significant authors by literary journals like Granta, and in 2007 she featured as one of the Bogotá 39, a list of the most promising Latin American writers under 39. If her other work is accomplished as this, then the acclaim’s more than deserved. Here her novel’s fluidly translated by Rosalind Harvey.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Fitzcarraldo Editions for an ARC
Rating: 4.5
It's a remarkably disciplined piece that deals with some challenging subjects from the possibility of mothering a child with profound disabilities to the legacy of male violence and its impact on the generations that follow. Guadalupe Nettel’s narrative's acutely observed, sometimes unsettling, sometimes tender. She approaches her material with admirable restraint. Her prose is quiet and coolly distanced at points in her story where lesser writers might resort to melodrama but which somehow adds to its intensity and emotional impact. Nettel’s an award-winning writer whose work’s been singled out on lists of significant authors by literary journals like Granta, and in 2007 she featured as one of the Bogotá 39, a list of the most promising Latin American writers under 39. If her other work is accomplished as this, then the acclaim’s more than deserved. Here her novel’s fluidly translated by Rosalind Harvey.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Fitzcarraldo Editions for an ARC
Rating: 4.5
August 5, 2021
A mí me gusta mucho la escritura de Nettel, me parece de una elegancia que no se encuentra casi nunca. Pero esta vez me topé con demasiados baches que me atropellaron la lectura (la inmersión, la suspensión de la incredulidad, esas cosas, bla). Voy de menos a más: el lenguaje, (españolismos, como "deberes"), algunos diálogos impostados, inverosímiles. Luego, las transiciones. Normalmente me gusta mucho el manejo de Nettel de los tiempos, es una máster de eso, pero acá hay algunos establecimientos muy raros: ayer / al otro día (o sea ¿hoy?) que complican los saltos (¿o seré yo?) En muchos casos sentí, también, que el texto abandonaba la poética y se volvía informativo, en especial a la mitad. Ah, y demasiada, cómo decirlo, ¿coyunturalidad? (la marcha de las feministas, el diálogo de un señor random, no sé). Finalmente, la metáfora de las palomas se me hizo medio una extensión de Los peces rojos, pero ya más forzadona. En fin. Ay, qué duro, bueno, ya. Es importantísimo que se hable de las maternidades así como ella lo hace, es un libro valiente, creo, eso sí.
March 29, 2021
Otra novela aparentemente sencilla de leer pero que tiene mucha profundidad.
De las que te dejan tarea para procesar.
La maternidad vista desde la perspectiva muy diferente de 3 mujeres.
A final de cuentas es una lectura muy necesaria. Sobretodo para mujeres.
En lo personal , desearía que al leerla, nos volviéramos más empáticas y logremos respetar cualquier decisión personal , preferencias e ideologías de otras mujeres.
Me da muchísimo gusto ver que hay muchos hombres que la leen y tienen comentarios y opiniones muy interesantes.
Es curioso, pero casi al final hay algo que pone a prueba esa tolerancia , respeto y empatía. Ya he leído que muchas no pasaron la prueba 😏.( Bueno ese es otro rollo que solo yo entenderé🙈🙊).
De las que te dejan tarea para procesar.
La maternidad vista desde la perspectiva muy diferente de 3 mujeres.
A final de cuentas es una lectura muy necesaria. Sobretodo para mujeres.
En lo personal , desearía que al leerla, nos volviéramos más empáticas y logremos respetar cualquier decisión personal , preferencias e ideologías de otras mujeres.
Me da muchísimo gusto ver que hay muchos hombres que la leen y tienen comentarios y opiniones muy interesantes.
Es curioso, pero casi al final hay algo que pone a prueba esa tolerancia , respeto y empatía. Ya he leído que muchas no pasaron la prueba 😏.( Bueno ese es otro rollo que solo yo entenderé🙈🙊).
February 5, 2025
I so appreciated this nuanced and multilayered view of womanhood, especially through the lens of reproduction and motherhood. Guadalupe Nettel (and Rosalind Harvey's translation) crafted a story with so much to unpack in just over 200 pages, without it ever feeling like it was doing too much.
We follow our narrator Laura as she tells the story of her friend, Alina, who, as she gets older, wants to become a mother, something the two in their younger years seemed to swear off. While Laura goes and gets her tubes tied, Alina does IVF with her partner Aurelio and is met with a pregnancy that ends up becoming more challenging than expected. Laura, in a new apartment complex, falls into a friendship with her neighbor Doris, who has her own son, Nicolas, from an abusive ex-husband. These three women circle each other, with occasional appearances from Laura's own mother as well as a nanny that Alina later employs, to weave together a tapestry of varied experiences of womanhood.
I thought Nettel explored the complications of femininity so well. It's not only a thought-provoking story but also one that is beautifully written, putting complicated feelings down on the page in a way that I think many can relate to. I also appreciated how it didn't come from a judgmental attitude; the decisions each woman makes feels considered and respected. Even though the narrator starts out with her reservations about motherhood, she is challenged along the way to look at things from a new perspective, without it ever feeling like she has to abandon her convictions or beliefs.
I was so surprised by this book and happy to have read this with few preconceptions. It came highly recommended by a few friends and I can see why! I know this was shortlisted for the 2023 International Booker Prize (before I started following that one more closely), and I am glad that seems to have gotten it into more readers hands. I will definitely be recommending this more, especially to people considering becoming parents themselves. And I can't wait to read more of Nettel's work!
We follow our narrator Laura as she tells the story of her friend, Alina, who, as she gets older, wants to become a mother, something the two in their younger years seemed to swear off. While Laura goes and gets her tubes tied, Alina does IVF with her partner Aurelio and is met with a pregnancy that ends up becoming more challenging than expected. Laura, in a new apartment complex, falls into a friendship with her neighbor Doris, who has her own son, Nicolas, from an abusive ex-husband. These three women circle each other, with occasional appearances from Laura's own mother as well as a nanny that Alina later employs, to weave together a tapestry of varied experiences of womanhood.
I thought Nettel explored the complications of femininity so well. It's not only a thought-provoking story but also one that is beautifully written, putting complicated feelings down on the page in a way that I think many can relate to. I also appreciated how it didn't come from a judgmental attitude; the decisions each woman makes feels considered and respected. Even though the narrator starts out with her reservations about motherhood, she is challenged along the way to look at things from a new perspective, without it ever feeling like she has to abandon her convictions or beliefs.
I was so surprised by this book and happy to have read this with few preconceptions. It came highly recommended by a few friends and I can see why! I know this was shortlisted for the 2023 International Booker Prize (before I started following that one more closely), and I am glad that seems to have gotten it into more readers hands. I will definitely be recommending this more, especially to people considering becoming parents themselves. And I can't wait to read more of Nettel's work!
July 9, 2021
Uno de mis propósitos de lectura para 2021 ha sido leer más literatura mexicana y, a mitad de año, reconozco que no lo estoy haciendo tan bien. Sin embargo, sabiendo que tengo seis meses más para lograrlo, decidí enmendarme y es así como me encontré con La hija única de Guadalupe Nettel, una novela con excelentes críticas. Esta novela es la historia de tres mujeres que viven la maternidad de formas distintas, cada una con sus retos, miedos, tristezas y alegrías: Laura es una mujer moderna, convencida que jamás desea ser madre; Alina, su amiga, en su primera juventud compartía esas ideas pero luego decide tener un hijo y enfrentar un embarazo complicado; y Doris, vecina de Alina que sucumbe ante el temor de educar a un hijo y no saber cómo.
La premisa me interesó muchísimo –un vistazo a la maternidad desde una perspectiva mexicana- y por eso me animé a leerla. Ahora bien, no la considero una mala historia y de hecho, reconozco que captura la atención del lector enseguida y es prácticamente imposible dejar de leerla. Pero al terminar, he de reconocer que me ha dejado un sabor de boca agridulce: no me parece un mal libro pero tampoco he podido entender por qué se le elogia tanto.
La novela está narrada desde el punto de vista de Laura, una joven profesionista mexicana, que ha estudiado en el extranjero, y que está segura de su decisión de no ser madre. Es a través de su mirada que conocemos la historia de Alina y de Doris, amigas que han decidido tener hijos, enfrentando situaciones sumamente complejas. Personalmente, creo que la narración en primera persona –y desde un único punto de vista – le restó mucha fuerza a la historia. Laura es una mujer privilegiada (por lo menos en lo económico y en el acceso a la educación que ha tenido) y como tal, en algunos momentos considero que “juzga” las decisiones de otras mujeres. Esta impresión hubiera sido fácilmente minimizada si hubiéramos conocido la historia desde el punto de vista de cada una de las protagonistas.
Por otra parte (y de nuevo, esto es subjetivo), me quedé con la impresión de que si bien se abordan situaciones muy complejas con respecto a la maternidad, en el fondo subyace una estela un tanto ¿rosa?, sobre cómo las mujeres la manejan. Por ejemplo, Laura siempre se ha negado a la maternidad y sin embargo, en algún momento se hace cargo del hijo de Doris; la maternidad de Alina, si bien anticipa un desenlace triste, al final ofrece un dejo optimista; y, Doris se toma un tiempo para ella antes de poder asumir la maternidad, pero, ¿es esto posible en la vida real pensando sobre todo en mujeres mexicanas? No lo sé, y me pongo a pensar al saber precisamente que en nuestro país todavía solo existe una única forma de ser madre.
Asimismo, el estilo narrativo es una arma de doble filo: como ya mencioné, es una novela que se lee rápido y mantiene la atención del lector pero, al mismo tiempo, el lenguaje me pareció un tanto simplón y en momentos, artificial.
Por último, no hablemos de ese final y la escena toda extraña entre dos de las protagonistas: en verdad me pareció muy gratuita, que no se relacionaba ni aportaba nada al tema central de la novela. Me pareció un factor de shock insertado solo por el hecho de hacerlo y totalmente innecesario. Pensando en Temporada de huracanes de Fernanda Melchor (de la cual todavía tengo pendiente la reseña) y comparándola con esta novela, siento que a pesar que la primera novela está llena de violencia, brutalidad, escenas sexuales fuertes, lo que más me sorprendió de la misma es que nada se siente gratuito ni forzado, ni puesto solo por llamar la atención. En La hija única, esta escena y algunas otras, me parecieron un tanto artificiales.
Reconozco las virtudes del libro –una mirada a las complejidades de la maternidad- pero creo que, como un todo, la falta de una narrativa contundente, un lenguaje narrativo sólido que refleje lo difícil del tema y la pluralidad del punto de vista de las protagonistas, le restan muchos méritos.
La premisa me interesó muchísimo –un vistazo a la maternidad desde una perspectiva mexicana- y por eso me animé a leerla. Ahora bien, no la considero una mala historia y de hecho, reconozco que captura la atención del lector enseguida y es prácticamente imposible dejar de leerla. Pero al terminar, he de reconocer que me ha dejado un sabor de boca agridulce: no me parece un mal libro pero tampoco he podido entender por qué se le elogia tanto.
La novela está narrada desde el punto de vista de Laura, una joven profesionista mexicana, que ha estudiado en el extranjero, y que está segura de su decisión de no ser madre. Es a través de su mirada que conocemos la historia de Alina y de Doris, amigas que han decidido tener hijos, enfrentando situaciones sumamente complejas. Personalmente, creo que la narración en primera persona –y desde un único punto de vista – le restó mucha fuerza a la historia. Laura es una mujer privilegiada (por lo menos en lo económico y en el acceso a la educación que ha tenido) y como tal, en algunos momentos considero que “juzga” las decisiones de otras mujeres. Esta impresión hubiera sido fácilmente minimizada si hubiéramos conocido la historia desde el punto de vista de cada una de las protagonistas.
Por otra parte (y de nuevo, esto es subjetivo), me quedé con la impresión de que si bien se abordan situaciones muy complejas con respecto a la maternidad, en el fondo subyace una estela un tanto ¿rosa?, sobre cómo las mujeres la manejan. Por ejemplo, Laura siempre se ha negado a la maternidad y sin embargo, en algún momento se hace cargo del hijo de Doris; la maternidad de Alina, si bien anticipa un desenlace triste, al final ofrece un dejo optimista; y, Doris se toma un tiempo para ella antes de poder asumir la maternidad, pero, ¿es esto posible en la vida real pensando sobre todo en mujeres mexicanas? No lo sé, y me pongo a pensar al saber precisamente que en nuestro país todavía solo existe una única forma de ser madre.
Asimismo, el estilo narrativo es una arma de doble filo: como ya mencioné, es una novela que se lee rápido y mantiene la atención del lector pero, al mismo tiempo, el lenguaje me pareció un tanto simplón y en momentos, artificial.
Por último, no hablemos de ese final y la escena toda extraña entre dos de las protagonistas: en verdad me pareció muy gratuita, que no se relacionaba ni aportaba nada al tema central de la novela. Me pareció un factor de shock insertado solo por el hecho de hacerlo y totalmente innecesario. Pensando en Temporada de huracanes de Fernanda Melchor (de la cual todavía tengo pendiente la reseña) y comparándola con esta novela, siento que a pesar que la primera novela está llena de violencia, brutalidad, escenas sexuales fuertes, lo que más me sorprendió de la misma es que nada se siente gratuito ni forzado, ni puesto solo por llamar la atención. En La hija única, esta escena y algunas otras, me parecieron un tanto artificiales.
Reconozco las virtudes del libro –una mirada a las complejidades de la maternidad- pero creo que, como un todo, la falta de una narrativa contundente, un lenguaje narrativo sólido que refleje lo difícil del tema y la pluralidad del punto de vista de las protagonistas, le restan muchos méritos.
June 16, 2024
4,5*
Nenhuma mãe sabe quanto tempo viverão os seus filhos. Há até uma expressão segundo a qual só os tem por empréstimo, e o tempo desse empréstimo pode durar de algumas horas a várias décadas.
Este livro é difícil. Mesmo lido no tom neutro da própria Guadalupe Nettel, fez-me engolir em seco várias vezes, ainda que não seja esta a minha experiência de maternidade, e jamais o aconselharia a quem esteja grávida ou a pensar engravidar.
Laura e Alina são duas amigas com planos de vida diferente: a primeira faz uma laqueação de trompas porque não quer ter filhos, a segunda casa-se e tem de fazer um tratamento de infertilidade para engravidar. Ao 7º mês de gestação, recebe a informação que ninguém quer ouvir: o cérebro da bebé não se desenvolveu como devia, pelo que provavelmente morrerá à nascença. Assistimos, então, a dois terríveis meses até ao parto e a todo o sofrimento que se lhe segue.
Além de uma probabilidade muito maior de que a sua filha morresse em breve, Alina tinha de enfrentar outra grande ameaça: a de que vivesse muitos anos e ela fosse forçada a lidar com isso, não como quem cuida de uma criança, mas como quem cuida de um doente terminal a quem é preciso alimentar, mudar as fraldas, administrar medicamentos. Alguém que, apesar de não ter esperança de sobrevivência, nunca mais se vai embora.
Em paralelo, temos a relação que Laura estabelece com a vizinha do lado, mãe de um menino agressivo que não consegue superar a morte do pai.
“A Filha Única” é uma obra sobre vários tipos de mães em diferentes fases da vida e com dificuldades específicas: a mãe de Laura...
Essa tendência que nós, as filhas, temos para ver nos erros das nossas mães a origem dos nossos problemas, e essa tendência que têm as mães de considerar os nossos defeitos como a prova de um possível fracasso. Para evitar os conflitos, optei nos últimos anos por não revelar de modo nenhum o que penso, por ocultar as minhas filias e as minhas fobias, por me tornar o mais opaca possível para assim me esquivar aos seus comentários, mas nunca me teria ocorrido prescindir dela.
...a mãe afectiva que não pode ter filhos biológicos, a mãe deprimida que não consegue cuidar do filho e a mãe que só quando a filha entra para o infantário descobre que ela sofre de um défice cognitivo...
Penso que se chega a um ponto em que todas as mães percebem uma coisa: temos os filhos que temos, não os que imaginámos ou os que gostaríamos de ter tido, e é com eles que temos que lidar.
...e até um casal de pombas que constrói o ninho na varanda da protagonista, imagem que alguns leitores poderão achar de um simbolismo exagerado, mas que eu achei estar dentro do espírito do livro.
Quanto mais eu olhava para aquele pássaro, mais horrível me parecia. Não tinha nenhuma parecença com os pais. As penas não eram cinzentas, azuis ou brancas, mas sim escuras e ralas, especialmente no pescoço Mas os pombos pareciam não se importar com nada disso. Cuidavam dele como se fosse um tesouro. Embalavam-no e mantinham-no aquecido, sacrificavam-se para trazer insetos par ao ninho para ele comer.
Dizia a minha mãe, cheia de sabedoria popular, que parir é dor e criar é amor, mas criar é também, até ao fim, uma dor indissociável do amor, como tão bem comprova “A Filha Única”.
Nenhuma mãe sabe quanto tempo viverão os seus filhos. Há até uma expressão segundo a qual só os tem por empréstimo, e o tempo desse empréstimo pode durar de algumas horas a várias décadas.
Este livro é difícil. Mesmo lido no tom neutro da própria Guadalupe Nettel, fez-me engolir em seco várias vezes, ainda que não seja esta a minha experiência de maternidade, e jamais o aconselharia a quem esteja grávida ou a pensar engravidar.
Laura e Alina são duas amigas com planos de vida diferente: a primeira faz uma laqueação de trompas porque não quer ter filhos, a segunda casa-se e tem de fazer um tratamento de infertilidade para engravidar. Ao 7º mês de gestação, recebe a informação que ninguém quer ouvir: o cérebro da bebé não se desenvolveu como devia, pelo que provavelmente morrerá à nascença. Assistimos, então, a dois terríveis meses até ao parto e a todo o sofrimento que se lhe segue.
Além de uma probabilidade muito maior de que a sua filha morresse em breve, Alina tinha de enfrentar outra grande ameaça: a de que vivesse muitos anos e ela fosse forçada a lidar com isso, não como quem cuida de uma criança, mas como quem cuida de um doente terminal a quem é preciso alimentar, mudar as fraldas, administrar medicamentos. Alguém que, apesar de não ter esperança de sobrevivência, nunca mais se vai embora.
Em paralelo, temos a relação que Laura estabelece com a vizinha do lado, mãe de um menino agressivo que não consegue superar a morte do pai.
“A Filha Única” é uma obra sobre vários tipos de mães em diferentes fases da vida e com dificuldades específicas: a mãe de Laura...
Essa tendência que nós, as filhas, temos para ver nos erros das nossas mães a origem dos nossos problemas, e essa tendência que têm as mães de considerar os nossos defeitos como a prova de um possível fracasso. Para evitar os conflitos, optei nos últimos anos por não revelar de modo nenhum o que penso, por ocultar as minhas filias e as minhas fobias, por me tornar o mais opaca possível para assim me esquivar aos seus comentários, mas nunca me teria ocorrido prescindir dela.
...a mãe afectiva que não pode ter filhos biológicos, a mãe deprimida que não consegue cuidar do filho e a mãe que só quando a filha entra para o infantário descobre que ela sofre de um défice cognitivo...
Penso que se chega a um ponto em que todas as mães percebem uma coisa: temos os filhos que temos, não os que imaginámos ou os que gostaríamos de ter tido, e é com eles que temos que lidar.
...e até um casal de pombas que constrói o ninho na varanda da protagonista, imagem que alguns leitores poderão achar de um simbolismo exagerado, mas que eu achei estar dentro do espírito do livro.
Quanto mais eu olhava para aquele pássaro, mais horrível me parecia. Não tinha nenhuma parecença com os pais. As penas não eram cinzentas, azuis ou brancas, mas sim escuras e ralas, especialmente no pescoço Mas os pombos pareciam não se importar com nada disso. Cuidavam dele como se fosse um tesouro. Embalavam-no e mantinham-no aquecido, sacrificavam-se para trazer insetos par ao ninho para ele comer.
Dizia a minha mãe, cheia de sabedoria popular, que parir é dor e criar é amor, mas criar é também, até ao fim, uma dor indissociável do amor, como tão bem comprova “A Filha Única”.
April 11, 2023
NO SPOILERS….
The psychological depth of ‘Still Born’ is powerfully resonant and meaningful.
We are taken on a heartfelt, heartbreaking, and brave journey.
Nettel plucks away at our raw nerves — the writing is so smooth and keenly observed— I couldn’t pull away.
It’s intricately detailed, deeply felt, compelling and ultimately surprising portraits of young women….so realistic, that their stories become ours.
Laura doesn’t want to have children:
“It’s not the kids that annoy me altogether. I might even find it entertaining, watching them play in the park or tearing each other apart over some toy in the sandpit. They are living examples of how we could be as humans if the rules of etiquette and civility did not exist. For years, I tried to convince my girlfriends that procreating was a hopeless mistake. I told them that children, no matter how sweet and loving they were in their best moments, would always represent a limit on their freedom, an economic burden, not to mention the physical and emotional cost they bring about: nine months of pregnancy, another six or more of breast-feeding, frequent sleepless nights during infancy, and then constant anxiety throughout their teenage years. ‘What’s more, society is designed so that it’s us, and not men, who take on the responsibility of caring for children, and this so often means forfeiting your career, your solo pursuits, your erotic side, and sometimes your relationship with your partner, too,’ I would tell them, vehemently. ‘Is it really worth it?’”
Adina does want to have children. She was having trouble conceiving. She was willing to start vitro fertilization.
Nettel takes a large canvas of issues — life - death - choices —unforeseen circumstances and unexpected turns - female solidarity - maternal regret -
friendships - and explores every facet of motherhood complexities.
The book is for everyone — but the real gift is for young women - in their twenties and thirties - not pregnant….
Paul and I have two daughters. Ages 41 and 36.
Neither have children-nor do they plan to have children.
People have often said to me …”oh, poor you…no grandchildren”.
Well….perhaps ‘not poor me’.
I’ve soo much respect and admiration for this book — it’s written with rigor and grace….
committed to honesty and exploration.
It’s radiant and pristine….calling for discussion.
The psychological depth of ‘Still Born’ is powerfully resonant and meaningful.
We are taken on a heartfelt, heartbreaking, and brave journey.
Nettel plucks away at our raw nerves — the writing is so smooth and keenly observed— I couldn’t pull away.
It’s intricately detailed, deeply felt, compelling and ultimately surprising portraits of young women….so realistic, that their stories become ours.
Laura doesn’t want to have children:
“It’s not the kids that annoy me altogether. I might even find it entertaining, watching them play in the park or tearing each other apart over some toy in the sandpit. They are living examples of how we could be as humans if the rules of etiquette and civility did not exist. For years, I tried to convince my girlfriends that procreating was a hopeless mistake. I told them that children, no matter how sweet and loving they were in their best moments, would always represent a limit on their freedom, an economic burden, not to mention the physical and emotional cost they bring about: nine months of pregnancy, another six or more of breast-feeding, frequent sleepless nights during infancy, and then constant anxiety throughout their teenage years. ‘What’s more, society is designed so that it’s us, and not men, who take on the responsibility of caring for children, and this so often means forfeiting your career, your solo pursuits, your erotic side, and sometimes your relationship with your partner, too,’ I would tell them, vehemently. ‘Is it really worth it?’”
Adina does want to have children. She was having trouble conceiving. She was willing to start vitro fertilization.
Nettel takes a large canvas of issues — life - death - choices —unforeseen circumstances and unexpected turns - female solidarity - maternal regret -
friendships - and explores every facet of motherhood complexities.
The book is for everyone — but the real gift is for young women - in their twenties and thirties - not pregnant….
Paul and I have two daughters. Ages 41 and 36.
Neither have children-nor do they plan to have children.
People have often said to me …”oh, poor you…no grandchildren”.
Well….perhaps ‘not poor me’.
I’ve soo much respect and admiration for this book — it’s written with rigor and grace….
committed to honesty and exploration.
It’s radiant and pristine….calling for discussion.
January 24, 2021
Darsi e sottrarsi
Da cosa nasce il desiderio di maternità?
E’ davvero instillato nelle figlie femmine da piccole secondo un programma stabilito a preservare la razza umana?
Davvero le donne che vogliono diventare madri devono sentirsi strumenti?
Davvero le donne che non vogliono diventare madri devono convivere con il senso di colpa?
Una lettura per cui ho provato una profonda empatia come donna e come madre.
Due circostanze solo apparentemente oggettive e statiche.
In realtà, di natura multiforme perché nel tempo e nei vari spazi che ho occupato il mio essere donna e madre non ha mai goduto di un’unica definizione.
La storia si svolge a Città del Messico e parte dall’amicizia tra Laura ed Alina.
Due donne, due amiche che, dopo i trent'anni, prendono decisioni differenti:
Alina vuole essere madre mentre Laura rifiuta categoricamente questo ruolo.
”Da quel momento in poi saremmo state separate da un confine invisibile: lei approvava la maternità come destino auspicabile per le donne, mentre io mi ero sottoposta a un’operazione per oppormi a essa.”
Il racconto procede su più piani: da un lato Alina, la sua gravidanza e la maternità;
dall’altra Laura che di riflesso all’esperienza dell’amica scopre altre forme di accudimento.
Una lettura che sollecita in me quelle domande scomode perché esiliate in quell'angolo oscuro che appartiene ad ogni genitore, fatto di mille paure di perdita e di inadeguatezza.
Un genitore si nutre di piccole e grandi ricompense emotive ed ogni giorno si rigioca tutto e come un lancio di dadi.
Una cosa è sicura: ogni figlio è palesemente una tempesta di emozioni e bisogna combattere il tabù che ci vieta di nominare l’odio e la delusione ma quello che molti non colgono è l’insegnamento che c’è dietro ad ogni figlio.
Sono tracce che ricompongono le domande che ci facciamo da sempre e, forse, è tutta questione d’interpretazione.
Storie di madri e non madri ma soprattutto storia di donne e di un reciproco riconoscimento anche di stati d’essere che spesso esistono senza avere un nome proprio.
Consigliato a madri e non madri.
Ciò non toglie che ai maschietti dotati di intelligenza questo libro potrebbe lasciare qualcosa di altrettanto importante.
"Penso che a un certo punto tutte noi madri ci rendiamo conto di questa cosa: abbiamo i figli che abbiamo, non quelli che immaginavamo o quelli che ci sarebbe piaciuto avere, ed è con loro che dobbiamo fare i conti."
Da cosa nasce il desiderio di maternità?
E’ davvero instillato nelle figlie femmine da piccole secondo un programma stabilito a preservare la razza umana?
Davvero le donne che vogliono diventare madri devono sentirsi strumenti?
Davvero le donne che non vogliono diventare madri devono convivere con il senso di colpa?
Una lettura per cui ho provato una profonda empatia come donna e come madre.
Due circostanze solo apparentemente oggettive e statiche.
In realtà, di natura multiforme perché nel tempo e nei vari spazi che ho occupato il mio essere donna e madre non ha mai goduto di un’unica definizione.
La storia si svolge a Città del Messico e parte dall’amicizia tra Laura ed Alina.
Due donne, due amiche che, dopo i trent'anni, prendono decisioni differenti:
Alina vuole essere madre mentre Laura rifiuta categoricamente questo ruolo.
”Da quel momento in poi saremmo state separate da un confine invisibile: lei approvava la maternità come destino auspicabile per le donne, mentre io mi ero sottoposta a un’operazione per oppormi a essa.”
Il racconto procede su più piani: da un lato Alina, la sua gravidanza e la maternità;
dall’altra Laura che di riflesso all’esperienza dell’amica scopre altre forme di accudimento.
Una lettura che sollecita in me quelle domande scomode perché esiliate in quell'angolo oscuro che appartiene ad ogni genitore, fatto di mille paure di perdita e di inadeguatezza.
Un genitore si nutre di piccole e grandi ricompense emotive ed ogni giorno si rigioca tutto e come un lancio di dadi.
Una cosa è sicura: ogni figlio è palesemente una tempesta di emozioni e bisogna combattere il tabù che ci vieta di nominare l’odio e la delusione ma quello che molti non colgono è l’insegnamento che c’è dietro ad ogni figlio.
Sono tracce che ricompongono le domande che ci facciamo da sempre e, forse, è tutta questione d’interpretazione.
Storie di madri e non madri ma soprattutto storia di donne e di un reciproco riconoscimento anche di stati d’essere che spesso esistono senza avere un nome proprio.
Consigliato a madri e non madri.
Ciò non toglie che ai maschietti dotati di intelligenza questo libro potrebbe lasciare qualcosa di altrettanto importante.
"Penso che a un certo punto tutte noi madri ci rendiamo conto di questa cosa: abbiamo i figli che abbiamo, non quelli che immaginavamo o quelli che ci sarebbe piaciuto avere, ed è con loro che dobbiamo fare i conti."
April 13, 2023
2.5 stars
This book is getting a lot of love, but I’ll have to file a dissenting “meh.”
The set-up had promise: a woman so determined not to be a mother that she has her tubes tied, and her friend who decides to have children after all, but whose experience of motherhood becomes extremely difficult. The narrative follows the two storylines.
The friend’s tale is readable and tense, . This is certainly the book’s strongest section, though I wasn’t universally enchanted – a subplot with the nanny seemed unconvincing.
The story of the narrator who has her tubes tied seemed like a lot of missed opportunities. We never get to see why she doesn’t want children so much (and while obviously, a woman doesn’t need a reason, it left the character a bit undeveloped). She then goes on to bond with her neighbour’s difficult son while making some really quite obvious observations about some nesting pigeons. Complete with cuckoos, groan. Overall I found Laura quite bland and her journey unremarkable.
I did like the book's occasional moments of widening its focus to include all the women of Mexico. Alina, waiting for prenatal screening at a private medical clinic, looks across the vastness of D.F., where most women don't have access to any kind of perinatal care. Perhaps it's a Westerner's preference, but I would have liked a book more firmly rooted in its locality: Laura and Alina are Mexicans but feel very European, they met in France and have French friends, vote in French elections and read European authors... they are part of the global expat "semi-elite," who have come home to roost. They don't appear to have any particular money worries. These mentions of a wider epidemic of violence against women and scarcity of resources on their doorstep were welcome context. I wondered how a poor Alina would cope, with no possibility of hiring a nanny.
The writing was competent but not at all exciting. This was my first experience of Guadalupe Nettel and I can’t say I’ll be queueing up for the next one.
This book is getting a lot of love, but I’ll have to file a dissenting “meh.”
The set-up had promise: a woman so determined not to be a mother that she has her tubes tied, and her friend who decides to have children after all, but whose experience of motherhood becomes extremely difficult. The narrative follows the two storylines.
The friend’s tale is readable and tense, . This is certainly the book’s strongest section, though I wasn’t universally enchanted – a subplot with the nanny seemed unconvincing.
The story of the narrator who has her tubes tied seemed like a lot of missed opportunities. We never get to see why she doesn’t want children so much (and while obviously, a woman doesn’t need a reason, it left the character a bit undeveloped). She then goes on to bond with her neighbour’s difficult son while making some really quite obvious observations about some nesting pigeons. Complete with cuckoos, groan. Overall I found Laura quite bland and her journey unremarkable.
I did like the book's occasional moments of widening its focus to include all the women of Mexico. Alina, waiting for prenatal screening at a private medical clinic, looks across the vastness of D.F., where most women don't have access to any kind of perinatal care. Perhaps it's a Westerner's preference, but I would have liked a book more firmly rooted in its locality: Laura and Alina are Mexicans but feel very European, they met in France and have French friends, vote in French elections and read European authors... they are part of the global expat "semi-elite," who have come home to roost. They don't appear to have any particular money worries. These mentions of a wider epidemic of violence against women and scarcity of resources on their doorstep were welcome context. I wondered how a poor Alina would cope, with no possibility of hiring a nanny.
The writing was competent but not at all exciting. This was my first experience of Guadalupe Nettel and I can’t say I’ll be queueing up for the next one.
June 12, 2022
‘There is no word, however, for a parent who loses their child. Unlike previous centuries in which child mortality was very high, it’s not normal for this to occur in our time. It is something so feared, so unacceptable, that we have chosen not to name it’.
Still Born is Nettel’s fourth novel, wonderfully translated by Rosalind Harvey and due for release on 22nd June with Fitzcarraldo Editions (A big thank-you to Clare at Fitzcarraldo Editions for the ARC).
Set in Mexico City, it follows the agonizing story of Alina and her baby Inés, tragically diagnosed with an unfathomable, rare genetic disorder specialists insist will severely limit her chances of prolonged life.
The novel confronts an array of delicate themes concerning motherhood: the pressures, burdens and expectations and their perpetual impacts, in addition to the complications caused in relationships post-birth.
Told by Alina’s long-standing friend and narrator Laura, initially the pair share a disinclination towards bearing children early on in their lives. Nevertheless, upon returning from a period of travel; Alina falls pregnant, with complications with tragic implications. Thus, two juxtaposing situations develop: Laura – distasteful towards motherhood to the extent that she is sterilized, is suddenly drawn to the unwieldy son of her aloof neighbour. And now Alina – willingly conceiving, is now exposed to potential catastrophe.
‘The truth was they were both inept, but it is always easier to blame others for what we cannot tolerate in ourselves, what we cannot forgive ourselves for’.
Nettel interweaves the two character’s experiences effortlessly: deftly contrasting the sheer heartbreak of Alina and the impossibility of losing a child, with the amiability of Laura’s newfound relationship with neighbour and boy.
The writer’s prose is poised, collected and warm; to the extent that as reader we become comfortably immersed. She offers serenity and is astute while tackling numerous sensitive affairs. Macabre and sorrowful themes are handled with care, affinity, empathy and emotion; perfectly encapsulating the sheer exhaustion a woman encounters having surrendered her life to nurture her baby.
Nettel is also adept in illustrating those fragments of beauty that arise from appalling situations, such as strength in adversity, the beauty of unexpected love and the tenacity of human emotion.
An outstanding novel.
Still Born is Nettel’s fourth novel, wonderfully translated by Rosalind Harvey and due for release on 22nd June with Fitzcarraldo Editions (A big thank-you to Clare at Fitzcarraldo Editions for the ARC).
Set in Mexico City, it follows the agonizing story of Alina and her baby Inés, tragically diagnosed with an unfathomable, rare genetic disorder specialists insist will severely limit her chances of prolonged life.
The novel confronts an array of delicate themes concerning motherhood: the pressures, burdens and expectations and their perpetual impacts, in addition to the complications caused in relationships post-birth.
Told by Alina’s long-standing friend and narrator Laura, initially the pair share a disinclination towards bearing children early on in their lives. Nevertheless, upon returning from a period of travel; Alina falls pregnant, with complications with tragic implications. Thus, two juxtaposing situations develop: Laura – distasteful towards motherhood to the extent that she is sterilized, is suddenly drawn to the unwieldy son of her aloof neighbour. And now Alina – willingly conceiving, is now exposed to potential catastrophe.
‘The truth was they were both inept, but it is always easier to blame others for what we cannot tolerate in ourselves, what we cannot forgive ourselves for’.
Nettel interweaves the two character’s experiences effortlessly: deftly contrasting the sheer heartbreak of Alina and the impossibility of losing a child, with the amiability of Laura’s newfound relationship with neighbour and boy.
The writer’s prose is poised, collected and warm; to the extent that as reader we become comfortably immersed. She offers serenity and is astute while tackling numerous sensitive affairs. Macabre and sorrowful themes are handled with care, affinity, empathy and emotion; perfectly encapsulating the sheer exhaustion a woman encounters having surrendered her life to nurture her baby.
Nettel is also adept in illustrating those fragments of beauty that arise from appalling situations, such as strength in adversity, the beauty of unexpected love and the tenacity of human emotion.
An outstanding novel.
November 29, 2025
Winner of the 2025 Jan Michalski Prize for Literature
Shortlisted for the 2023 International Booker Prize
Who has not plunged headlong into an irreconcilable love affair knowing it has no future, and clinging to a glimmer of hope as flimsy as a blade of grass. Pourquoi durer est-il mieux que brûler ? wondered Roland Barthes, sceptically. Love and common sense are not always compatible. In general, one tends to choose intensity no matter how little time it lasts, and in spite of all that it puts at risk.
Still Born (2022) is Rosalind Harvey's translation of Guadalupe Nettel's La hija única (2020).
It opens with a eloquent description of the fragility of life expressed through a new born:
Watching a baby as it sleeps is to contemplate the fragility of all life. Listening to its soft breath generates a mixture of calm and awe. I observe the baby before me: its face relaxed, squishy, milk trickling from one corner of its mouth, its perfect eyelids. And yet I know that, every day, one of the children asleep in all the cots around the world will cease to exist. It will be extinguished without a sound, like a star snuffed out in the universe, a void amongst the thousands of others that continue to light up the darkness, without its death throwing anyone into disarray. Perhaps its mother will remain inconsolable for the rest of her life; perhaps its father as well. The rest of us will accept the circumstance with astonishing resignation. The death of a newborn is something so common it surprises no one and yet, how can we accept it when we have been so moved by its beauty? I watch this baby sleep, swaddled in its green sleepsuit, its head to one side on the little white pillow, and I wish fervently for it to carry on living, for nothing to disrupt its sleep or its life, for it to be shielded from all the dangers of the world, and for it to be overlooked by the destructive path of life’s whirlwind of catastrophes. ‘Nothing will happen to you while I’m here,’ I promise, knowing, even as I say it, that I am lying, for deep down I am as helpless and as vulnerable as this baby.
The novel is narrated by Laura. She and her closest friend Alina are in their mid-30s. both strong feminists, and each has, or had, firmly rejected motherhood, not just for themselves, but generally. But when both women enter relationships, Laura in Paris and Alina back in Mexico, they reach opposite decisions.
Laura's partner starts talking about children and she has her tubes tied, behind his back, causing their relationship to disintegrate. When, after a spiritual pilgrimage to Nepal (Laura's philosophical worldview an odd blend of Buddhism and Tarot cards), she returns to Mexico, she finds Alina is undertaking fertility treatment, desparate to conceive. One day Laura gets a call:
'I’ve got good news,’ she told me, ‘and I wanted you to be the first to know.’ She didn’t need to explain any further. I had known her for years and it was enough to hear her tone of voice to know what she was going to tell me. When eventually she pronounced the word ‘pregnant’, my heart leapt in a feeling so close to joy that it threw me. How on earth could I be rejoicing? Alina was about to disappear and join the sect of mothers, those creatures with no life of their own who, zombie- like, with huge bags under their eyes, lugged prams around the streets of the city. In less than a year she would be transformed into a child-rearing automaton. The friend I had always counted on would vanish for good, and here I was, at the other end of the line, congratulating her? I have to admit that hearing her sound so contented was infectious. Although throughout my life I had militated against my sex carrying such a burden, I decided not to wage war against this happiness.
This passage is from when Laura accompanies Alina to a first scan to determine the baby's development and, incidentally, its gender, the latter immediately assigning her baby a name, Ines, when she discovers she is having a girl.
I wondered what our world would be like if we were given a combination of letters, or images like Cloud over Lake or Ember in Fire, and were left to decide what gender to choose or invent for ourselves. And finally, I asked myself what happens when a child is born with an ambiguous sex, or with two, and, years later– once the doctors, with the parents’ consent, have amputated or closed off the rejected sex forever– this child refuses to accept the gender that was arbitrarily assigned to them?
But Alina's pregnancy takes a dramatic adverse turn, when after a later scan she is informed that her daughter's brain is not developing and the baby will likely die immediately after birth:
'But what if she does live?' Alina insisted, perhaps trying to hold on to one last hope, the possibility of a miracle, or perhaps afraid to of this very thing. 'Will she just be a lump without emotions, without any intelligence?'
'If she were to live, then that's how she would be, yes' the doctor said.'
But Alina decides to carry the baby to term. Meanwhile Laura becomes increasingly involved with her neighbour and her little boy, both troubled after the death, in an accident, of the neighbour's abusive husband, and takes on a sort of motherhood role of her own.
In many respects the novel is a gripping and powerful exploration of motherhood, and indeed of what it means to live.
My reservation is the prose style, where powerful passages such as those quoted come between pages of relatively quotidian story. Perhaps that is deliberate - even dealing (I suspect no spoiler alert needed) with a severely handicapped child - has its elements of routine, but it meant a 203 page novel felt too long. The narrative perspective was also odd - a favourite bugbear of mine - with Laura's story in the first person, and Alina's narrated by her in the third, but with little difference between them (Laura forming at times the role more of an omniscient third person narrator)
So I can see why others have found this impressive but 3 stars for me.
Shortlisted for the 2023 International Booker Prize
Who has not plunged headlong into an irreconcilable love affair knowing it has no future, and clinging to a glimmer of hope as flimsy as a blade of grass. Pourquoi durer est-il mieux que brûler ? wondered Roland Barthes, sceptically. Love and common sense are not always compatible. In general, one tends to choose intensity no matter how little time it lasts, and in spite of all that it puts at risk.
Still Born (2022) is Rosalind Harvey's translation of Guadalupe Nettel's La hija única (2020).
It opens with a eloquent description of the fragility of life expressed through a new born:
Watching a baby as it sleeps is to contemplate the fragility of all life. Listening to its soft breath generates a mixture of calm and awe. I observe the baby before me: its face relaxed, squishy, milk trickling from one corner of its mouth, its perfect eyelids. And yet I know that, every day, one of the children asleep in all the cots around the world will cease to exist. It will be extinguished without a sound, like a star snuffed out in the universe, a void amongst the thousands of others that continue to light up the darkness, without its death throwing anyone into disarray. Perhaps its mother will remain inconsolable for the rest of her life; perhaps its father as well. The rest of us will accept the circumstance with astonishing resignation. The death of a newborn is something so common it surprises no one and yet, how can we accept it when we have been so moved by its beauty? I watch this baby sleep, swaddled in its green sleepsuit, its head to one side on the little white pillow, and I wish fervently for it to carry on living, for nothing to disrupt its sleep or its life, for it to be shielded from all the dangers of the world, and for it to be overlooked by the destructive path of life’s whirlwind of catastrophes. ‘Nothing will happen to you while I’m here,’ I promise, knowing, even as I say it, that I am lying, for deep down I am as helpless and as vulnerable as this baby.
The novel is narrated by Laura. She and her closest friend Alina are in their mid-30s. both strong feminists, and each has, or had, firmly rejected motherhood, not just for themselves, but generally. But when both women enter relationships, Laura in Paris and Alina back in Mexico, they reach opposite decisions.
Laura's partner starts talking about children and she has her tubes tied, behind his back, causing their relationship to disintegrate. When, after a spiritual pilgrimage to Nepal (Laura's philosophical worldview an odd blend of Buddhism and Tarot cards), she returns to Mexico, she finds Alina is undertaking fertility treatment, desparate to conceive. One day Laura gets a call:
'I’ve got good news,’ she told me, ‘and I wanted you to be the first to know.’ She didn’t need to explain any further. I had known her for years and it was enough to hear her tone of voice to know what she was going to tell me. When eventually she pronounced the word ‘pregnant’, my heart leapt in a feeling so close to joy that it threw me. How on earth could I be rejoicing? Alina was about to disappear and join the sect of mothers, those creatures with no life of their own who, zombie- like, with huge bags under their eyes, lugged prams around the streets of the city. In less than a year she would be transformed into a child-rearing automaton. The friend I had always counted on would vanish for good, and here I was, at the other end of the line, congratulating her? I have to admit that hearing her sound so contented was infectious. Although throughout my life I had militated against my sex carrying such a burden, I decided not to wage war against this happiness.
This passage is from when Laura accompanies Alina to a first scan to determine the baby's development and, incidentally, its gender, the latter immediately assigning her baby a name, Ines, when she discovers she is having a girl.
I wondered what our world would be like if we were given a combination of letters, or images like Cloud over Lake or Ember in Fire, and were left to decide what gender to choose or invent for ourselves. And finally, I asked myself what happens when a child is born with an ambiguous sex, or with two, and, years later– once the doctors, with the parents’ consent, have amputated or closed off the rejected sex forever– this child refuses to accept the gender that was arbitrarily assigned to them?
But Alina's pregnancy takes a dramatic adverse turn, when after a later scan she is informed that her daughter's brain is not developing and the baby will likely die immediately after birth:
'But what if she does live?' Alina insisted, perhaps trying to hold on to one last hope, the possibility of a miracle, or perhaps afraid to of this very thing. 'Will she just be a lump without emotions, without any intelligence?'
'If she were to live, then that's how she would be, yes' the doctor said.'
But Alina decides to carry the baby to term. Meanwhile Laura becomes increasingly involved with her neighbour and her little boy, both troubled after the death, in an accident, of the neighbour's abusive husband, and takes on a sort of motherhood role of her own.
In many respects the novel is a gripping and powerful exploration of motherhood, and indeed of what it means to live.
My reservation is the prose style, where powerful passages such as those quoted come between pages of relatively quotidian story. Perhaps that is deliberate - even dealing (I suspect no spoiler alert needed) with a severely handicapped child - has its elements of routine, but it meant a 203 page novel felt too long. The narrative perspective was also odd - a favourite bugbear of mine - with Laura's story in the first person, and Alina's narrated by her in the third, but with little difference between them (Laura forming at times the role more of an omniscient third person narrator)
So I can see why others have found this impressive but 3 stars for me.
January 7, 2021
No es un libro malo pero sí excesivamente simple para mi gusto. La narradora me caía muy mal. Y siento que los temas daban para más, el tratamiento parece superficial. Creo que de las novelas que he leído de Nettel es la que menos me ha disgustado, pero la sigo prefiriendo como cuentista.
April 24, 2023
I know this book has been out in the UK for a little while now, but it’s set to come out here in August - which is why I was happy to be able to snag an ARC from Bloomsbury Publishing.
Really thorny sentiments in this one, making it a timely read. I haven’t come across neurodivergence and birth complications in my life and with those that have been close to me, which is why the topic and its real effects on individuals and families experiencing it were so poignant. Nettel did not shy away from sketching all of the feelings involved in the process, including the forbidden ones. Mothers wishing they had never had children, wanting them to go back to “where they came from”, or young women struggling with the idea of having children, informing those close to them that this “plan” may have to be thwarted. I am giving it 3 stars because, while I enjoyed these reflections, I thought that the exploration of the feelings remained relatively underdeveloped throughout the narrative. What’s more, the constant shuffling back and forth between our narrator and her best friend was jarring, the ultimate effect being that I ended up not really caring for either of them as much as I may have if there had been a more focused momentum. Still worth a read.
Thanks again to Bloomsbury for the ARC.
Really thorny sentiments in this one, making it a timely read. I haven’t come across neurodivergence and birth complications in my life and with those that have been close to me, which is why the topic and its real effects on individuals and families experiencing it were so poignant. Nettel did not shy away from sketching all of the feelings involved in the process, including the forbidden ones. Mothers wishing they had never had children, wanting them to go back to “where they came from”, or young women struggling with the idea of having children, informing those close to them that this “plan” may have to be thwarted. I am giving it 3 stars because, while I enjoyed these reflections, I thought that the exploration of the feelings remained relatively underdeveloped throughout the narrative. What’s more, the constant shuffling back and forth between our narrator and her best friend was jarring, the ultimate effect being that I ended up not really caring for either of them as much as I may have if there had been a more focused momentum. Still worth a read.
Thanks again to Bloomsbury for the ARC.
January 26, 2022
Es bastante evidente que el libro gira en torno a la maternidad. Lo interesante es que toma en consideración la postura de tres mujeres de personalidad y situación totalmente diferentes entre sí. Por ejemplo, el de la narradora, una mujer que decide no ser madre y se liga las trompas, o el de su vecina, quien está transitando un momento complicado en cuanto a su relación con su hijo, o el de su mejor amiga, una mujer que luego de varios intentos y tratamientos, logra quedar embarazada. No todo es tan sencillo como parece, pues todo se va a ir complicando y nos vamos dando cuenta de las vertientes que van surgiendo en sus vidas.
Mi parte favorita: la sencillez de Guadalupe Nettel para contar estas tres historias. Simplemente quedé fascinada y con ganas de leer más de su autoría. El eje de la novela es un tema que no siempre resulta fácil de abordar, sin embargo, su tratamiento con el tema fue ameno y accesible por completo. Conocer la vida de estas tres mujeres y su relación fue gratificante, una oportunidad para entender mejor lo que es la empatía.
Mi parte favorita: la sencillez de Guadalupe Nettel para contar estas tres historias. Simplemente quedé fascinada y con ganas de leer más de su autoría. El eje de la novela es un tema que no siempre resulta fácil de abordar, sin embargo, su tratamiento con el tema fue ameno y accesible por completo. Conocer la vida de estas tres mujeres y su relación fue gratificante, una oportunidad para entender mejor lo que es la empatía.
December 17, 2022
Gently and softly told.
Nettel does not shy away from hard topics. She enters them softly and leaves them softly but the impact remains. She cradles several aspects of motherhood and so very gently weaves a hard story tackling:
becoming a mother and leaving freedom behind;
not becoming a mother;
dealing with a difficult child;
preparing for the death of a child;
dealing with depression while still taking care of your child;
becoming a mother to another's child;
accepting your mother when you become an adult.
Through all these Nettle weaves through showing different sides of the coin, showing the persons beneath, the 'mothers' and the 'children'.
An ARC gently provided by author/publisher via Netgally
Nettel does not shy away from hard topics. She enters them softly and leaves them softly but the impact remains. She cradles several aspects of motherhood and so very gently weaves a hard story tackling:
becoming a mother and leaving freedom behind;
not becoming a mother;
dealing with a difficult child;
preparing for the death of a child;
dealing with depression while still taking care of your child;
becoming a mother to another's child;
accepting your mother when you become an adult.
Through all these Nettle weaves through showing different sides of the coin, showing the persons beneath, the 'mothers' and the 'children'.
An ARC gently provided by author/publisher via Netgally
May 1, 2023
Shortlisted for International Booker 2023
Another interesting look at motherhood I found in the International Booker shortlist.
"Sometimes I tell myself I'd be better off if I hadn't had him. It's awful, don't you think? Normal mothers don't think those things, do they?"
I liked it more than 'Boulder'. While 'Boulder' tries to impress with the writing, the confidence that 'Still Born' has in its story wins "the battle".
I think it's better not to know much about the plot, but be aware that this is a very difficult book to read.
Another interesting look at motherhood I found in the International Booker shortlist.
"Sometimes I tell myself I'd be better off if I hadn't had him. It's awful, don't you think? Normal mothers don't think those things, do they?"
I liked it more than 'Boulder'. While 'Boulder' tries to impress with the writing, the confidence that 'Still Born' has in its story wins "the battle".
I think it's better not to know much about the plot, but be aware that this is a very difficult book to read.
April 1, 2024
Είσαι γυναίκα με μήτρα; Συγχαρητήρια! Υπάρχεις για να εκπληρώσεις έναν και μόνο σκοπό. Να προσαρμόσεις το μέλλον σου γύρω από τη μητρότητα, αναπόσπαστο κομμάτι σου όπως ορίζει η φύση. Έτσι σε ζύμωσαν από μικρή.
Το βιολογικό ρολόι όπως το γνωρίζουμε είναι μύθος. Η αρχική επιστημονική ερμηνεία αναφέρεται στον τρόπο που ρυθμίζεται ο οργανισμός μας: ξύπνημα, φαγητό, ύπνος. Ανάμεσα στο 1970 & 1980 η σημασία αλλοιώθηκε στη σεξιστική ερμηνεία που γνωρίζουμε σήμερα: τη γυναικεία γονιμότητα. Γιατί όλο το βάρος πέφτει σε ‘σένα φίλη μου, άσχετα που επιστημονικές έρευνες δείχνουν πως η γονιμότητα μειώνεται και στους άνδρες με το πέρασμα του χρόνου, ολοένα λιγότερη ποσότητα και ποιότητα σπέρματος δηλαδή.
Είναι η μητρότητα προσωπική επιλογή ή κοινωνική επιβολή; Η Nettel αφηγείται με ακριβή απλότητα μερικές εκφάνσεις της μέσα από τρεις γυναίκες, αγγίζοντας θέματα όπως η αυτοδιάθεση του σώματος αλλά και την οικογένεια που επιλέγουμε εξ’ αίματος και μη.
Γυναίκες που δε θέλουν παιδιά & καταφεύγουν σε στείρωση. Γυναίκες που κυοφορούν & με τον ερχομό της νέας ζωής αγχώνονται, έχουν τύψεις κι ενοχές μήπως δεν πήραν τη σωστή απόφαση. Γυναίκες που αδυνατούν να φροντίσουν τα παιδιά τους λόγω κατάθλιψης κι άρνησης οποιασδήποτε βοήθειας. Γυναίκες αλληλέγγυες που προσφέρονται να βοηθήσουν. Γυναίκες που αναπτύσσουν μητρικότητα μέσα απ’ τη φύλαξη & φροντίδα ξένων παιδιών. Γυναίκες που ρωτάνε τις κόρες τους πότε θα γίνουν μάνες.
Και ξέρεις κάτι;
Είναι οκ να μη θέλεις παιδιά, δεν είσαι ούτε αναίσθητη ούτε εγωκεντρική.
Είναι οκ να μη θέλεις παιδιά αλλά να επιθυμείς οικογένεια, γιατί δεν είναι αυτά ο συνδετικός κρίκος.
Είναι οκ να θέλεις παιδιά & να το έχεις σκεφτεί καλά αλλά παρόλα αυτά να αγχώνεσαι και να απελπίζεσαι.
Είναι οκ να μην είσαι σίγουρη ακόμα. Ποτέ δεν είναι αργά αν το θελήσεις. Υπάρχουν τρόποι.
Είναι οκ να κάνεις έκτρωση. Είναι ολότελα δικαίωμα κι επιλογή σου.
Είναι οκ να είσαι μαμά και τα πρώτα χρόνια να φαίνονται φρικτά κουραστικά και να θυμώνεις με τον εαυτό σου αλλά αγαπάς το παιδί σου όπως και να ‘χει. Δεν είσαι κακός άνθρωπος. Είσαι απλά εξαντλημένη.
Μεγάλη αγκαλιά σε όλες μας ό,τι κι αν επιλέξουμε, παρά την κοινωνική, ασφυκτική, πατριαρχική καταπίεση! ❤️
Το βιολογικό ρολόι όπως το γνωρίζουμε είναι μύθος. Η αρχική επιστημονική ερμηνεία αναφέρεται στον τρόπο που ρυθμίζεται ο οργανισμός μας: ξύπνημα, φαγητό, ύπνος. Ανάμεσα στο 1970 & 1980 η σημασία αλλοιώθηκε στη σεξιστική ερμηνεία που γνωρίζουμε σήμερα: τη γυναικεία γονιμότητα. Γιατί όλο το βάρος πέφτει σε ‘σένα φίλη μου, άσχετα που επιστημονικές έρευνες δείχνουν πως η γονιμότητα μειώνεται και στους άνδρες με το πέρασμα του χρόνου, ολοένα λιγότερη ποσότητα και ποιότητα σπέρματος δηλαδή.
Είναι η μητρότητα προσωπική επιλογή ή κοινωνική επιβολή; Η Nettel αφηγείται με ακριβή απλότητα μερικές εκφάνσεις της μέσα από τρεις γυναίκες, αγγίζοντας θέματα όπως η αυτοδιάθεση του σώματος αλλά και την οικογένεια που επιλέγουμε εξ’ αίματος και μη.
Γυναίκες που δε θέλουν παιδιά & καταφεύγουν σε στείρωση. Γυναίκες που κυοφορούν & με τον ερχομό της νέας ζωής αγχώνονται, έχουν τύψεις κι ενοχές μήπως δεν πήραν τη σωστή απόφαση. Γυναίκες που αδυνατούν να φροντίσουν τα παιδιά τους λόγω κατάθλιψης κι άρνησης οποιασδήποτε βοήθειας. Γυναίκες αλληλέγγυες που προσφέρονται να βοηθήσουν. Γυναίκες που αναπτύσσουν μητρικότητα μέσα απ’ τη φύλαξη & φροντίδα ξένων παιδιών. Γυναίκες που ρωτάνε τις κόρες τους πότε θα γίνουν μάνες.
Και ξέρεις κάτι;
Είναι οκ να μη θέλεις παιδιά, δεν είσαι ούτε αναίσθητη ούτε εγωκεντρική.
Είναι οκ να μη θέλεις παιδιά αλλά να επιθυμείς οικογένεια, γιατί δεν είναι αυτά ο συνδετικός κρίκος.
Είναι οκ να θέλεις παιδιά & να το έχεις σκεφτεί καλά αλλά παρόλα αυτά να αγχώνεσαι και να απελπίζεσαι.
Είναι οκ να μην είσαι σίγουρη ακόμα. Ποτέ δεν είναι αργά αν το θελήσεις. Υπάρχουν τρόποι.
Είναι οκ να κάνεις έκτρωση. Είναι ολότελα δικαίωμα κι επιλογή σου.
Είναι οκ να είσαι μαμά και τα πρώτα χρόνια να φαίνονται φρικτά κουραστικά και να θυμώνεις με τον εαυτό σου αλλά αγαπάς το παιδί σου όπως και να ‘χει. Δεν είσαι κακός άνθρωπος. Είσαι απλά εξαντλημένη.
Μεγάλη αγκαλιά σε όλες μας ό,τι κι αν επιλέξουμε, παρά την κοινωνική, ασφυκτική, πατριαρχική καταπίεση! ❤️
December 26, 2023
Cuando empecé a leerlo me pareció que esta historia ya la había leído en FB, en esos miles de posteos que te llegan por cualquier red social donde hay una mamá o un papá contando la historia de sus hijitos recién nacidos con alguna enfermedad mortal y piden tu ayuda para pagar el tratamiento, o los estudios o la hospitalización. Claro que continué leyendo porque a todos nos interesan las historias de esos bebés extraños y ajenos donde el dolor no es nuestro pero nos hacen partícipes. Así es esta historia, la historia de Alina y su bebé Inés.
Más que la historia de una enfermedad, es una historia donde se habla de la maternidad suplantada por una amiga, por una abuela, por una niñera, por un colectivo y de cómo todas las mujeres hemos cuidado a un hijo que no es nuestro pero no nos quedó de otra mas que ayudar, ayudarlo. De convertirnos por unos minutos, horas, meses o años en una extensión de su madre. De cómo todas aquellas que decidimos o no pudimos ser madres, de todos modos, nos convertimos en una tarde o temprano.
Le puse tres estrellas porque no me pareció lo bastante confrontador, ni estremecedor, ni llegador. Ni siquiera hay frases sueltas que me hayan hecho tragarme las lágrimas, pero me entretuvo y me dejó leyendo toda la mañana hasta terminarlo, porque es fácil, es sencillo y de alguna manera, todas las mujeres -como es mi caso- hemos estado en ese lugar.
Más que la historia de una enfermedad, es una historia donde se habla de la maternidad suplantada por una amiga, por una abuela, por una niñera, por un colectivo y de cómo todas las mujeres hemos cuidado a un hijo que no es nuestro pero no nos quedó de otra mas que ayudar, ayudarlo. De convertirnos por unos minutos, horas, meses o años en una extensión de su madre. De cómo todas aquellas que decidimos o no pudimos ser madres, de todos modos, nos convertimos en una tarde o temprano.
Le puse tres estrellas porque no me pareció lo bastante confrontador, ni estremecedor, ni llegador. Ni siquiera hay frases sueltas que me hayan hecho tragarme las lágrimas, pero me entretuvo y me dejó leyendo toda la mañana hasta terminarlo, porque es fácil, es sencillo y de alguna manera, todas las mujeres -como es mi caso- hemos estado en ese lugar.
November 22, 2020
La maternidad desde (casi) todos sus vértices: la ambivalencia, la culpa, la negación, las dudas y más.
Son las historias de tres mujeres que se van entrecruzando: la que quiere ser madre y finalmente no sale como pensaba, la que no quiere ser madre y se liga las trompas, la que sí es madre pero vive atormentada. todas relatadas de una manera directa, sin vueltas y sin golpes bajos, inclusive cuando hay temas dolorosos de los que hablar.
Lo que más me gustó fue el énfasis en esa red que tejen las mujeres a lo largo de la novela, que les permite sostenerse unas a otras y llevar cualquier situación un poco más acompañadas.
Son las historias de tres mujeres que se van entrecruzando: la que quiere ser madre y finalmente no sale como pensaba, la que no quiere ser madre y se liga las trompas, la que sí es madre pero vive atormentada. todas relatadas de una manera directa, sin vueltas y sin golpes bajos, inclusive cuando hay temas dolorosos de los que hablar.
Lo que más me gustó fue el énfasis en esa red que tejen las mujeres a lo largo de la novela, que les permite sostenerse unas a otras y llevar cualquier situación un poco más acompañadas.
October 28, 2025
- A maternidade é um mandato social - continuou. - E, em quase todos os casos, impede que as mulheres façam alguma coisa da sua vida. Tem de se estar muito convencida de que se quer ser mãe antes de se embarcar em tal aventura.
O nascimento de um bebé sem um cérebro totalmente desenvolvido é o ponto de partida para este romance que fala de maternidade, da sua negação ou aceitação, das dúvidas, incertezas e dos muitos sentimentos de culpa que todas as mães carregam. Também traz novas perspectivas sobre a evolução da família e da parentalidade. É um livro que, não sendo eu mãe, acredito que dirá muito a quem tem filhos e que também poderá ajudar quem pensa em não os ter.
O nascimento de um bebé sem um cérebro totalmente desenvolvido é o ponto de partida para este romance que fala de maternidade, da sua negação ou aceitação, das dúvidas, incertezas e dos muitos sentimentos de culpa que todas as mães carregam. Também traz novas perspectivas sobre a evolução da família e da parentalidade. É um livro que, não sendo eu mãe, acredito que dirá muito a quem tem filhos e que também poderá ajudar quem pensa em não os ter.
January 18, 2021
Essere madri e non volerlo essere; essere travolti dai propri sentimenti e tenerli a bada; accudire un piccolo essere umano indipendentemente dal legame di sangue: come il piccione, senza saperlo (forse) cova l’uovo del cuculo. Essere accoglienti quasi senza volerlo, pur difendendo la propria autonomia, come se la conoscenza di sé arrivasse a poco a poco attraverso piccoli (grandi) eventi inaspettati.
I sentimenti sono complessi, mai scontati; la vita è quell’intreccio di caso e destino che ospita la meraviglia. Perché “l’amore arriva nei modi più inattesi, e tutto può cambiare da un momento all’altro. In bene e in male.”
Guadalupe Nettel ci immerge in questa atmosfera di desiderio e di attesa, dolore e speranza, allargando lo sguardo e poi stringendolo su un personaggio o un particolare. Riflettendo e lasciando spazi aperti alla riflessione individuale.
Secondo i buddisti “la mente ha due risvolti. Uno con il quale affrontiamo la quotidianità, che produce milioni di pensieri, si arena, accelera e attraversa tutti gli stati d’animo; e un altro più profondo o intrinseco, che non può danneggiarsi o subire alterazioni, neppure dopo la nostra morte”. Il passaggio dall’una all’altra dimensione mentale è forse la sfida più significativa della nostra vita interiore e anche un romanzo è in grado di evocarne il recondito significato.
I sentimenti sono complessi, mai scontati; la vita è quell’intreccio di caso e destino che ospita la meraviglia. Perché “l’amore arriva nei modi più inattesi, e tutto può cambiare da un momento all’altro. In bene e in male.”
Guadalupe Nettel ci immerge in questa atmosfera di desiderio e di attesa, dolore e speranza, allargando lo sguardo e poi stringendolo su un personaggio o un particolare. Riflettendo e lasciando spazi aperti alla riflessione individuale.
Secondo i buddisti “la mente ha due risvolti. Uno con il quale affrontiamo la quotidianità, che produce milioni di pensieri, si arena, accelera e attraversa tutti gli stati d’animo; e un altro più profondo o intrinseco, che non può danneggiarsi o subire alterazioni, neppure dopo la nostra morte”. Il passaggio dall’una all’altra dimensione mentale è forse la sfida più significativa della nostra vita interiore e anche un romanzo è in grado di evocarne il recondito significato.
September 29, 2020
Es el libro que menos me ha gustado de Nettel. A pesar de que la historia principal resultaba interesante, no me sentí nada cómoda con la voz que eligió para contarla, parecía un relato chismoso, lleno de frases hechas y lugares comunes. Además, el hecho de que un personaje te relatara las experiencia y emociones de otro, se sentía falso y forzado. Las historias secundarias tenían potencial pero no terminaron nunca de tomar forma. Para acabar de rematar, el contexto lejano del movimiento feminista se queda en la superficie dándole nulo significado a la novela. Definitivamente un título del cual se puede prescindir de la bibliografía de la autora.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 14, 2021
Este libro tiene algo de artificial (y de simple). El tema, sin duda, es súper bonito, pero el resultado es una especie de catálogo de maternidades y apegos entre mujeres, donde los elementos no se trabajan a nivel narrativo, sino "ideológico", por así decirlo. El tono directo con el que se narran hechos tan duros podría haber sido un acierto de la novela, pero queda empañado en tanto que la voz de la narradora está llena de clichés y lugares comunes.
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