The worst thing about being a creator out of time is usually that the most fervent acceptance of the public occurs, precisely, when one is already raising mallow.
The legend of Lucía Berlin as the accursed writer, built from family uprooting and consolidated from her stormy emotional life, grew to become an emblem of the absolutely free creator, a firm commitment to life in her extreme experimentation that guided her by an intense existence in all possible aspects of the tragic and also the comic.
The vital parallelism of style and narrative format with Raymond Carver delves into the idea that only those who visit hell can end up creating the most beautiful narratives, understood in all their magnitude later, when the limitations of each era seem to have been conquered by a remote time and space.
And so this volume with more than twenty stories of the passionate teacher and the cleaning woman, of all those women who was unexpectedly Lucía Berlin in her histrionic passage through the world, continues to this day.
Stories that as soon as they rescue snapshots of happiness as soon after they plunge into melancholy (that kind of happiness of being sad that only great creators know how to evoke in prose as verses for the soul).
In her hectic life adventure, Lucia was as many characters as those who appear in these stories. A night in paradise oozes sensitivity of sadness and joy, longing for what is never going to be and enjoying the insignificant. Between the pages of these stories we suffer the disenchantment and the harsh reality of human nature in its most perverse aspect of reason, and later we discover the most helpful philosophy to overcome any trance. For Lucía Berlin, her characters are absolute protagonists of the soul, a soul exposed to all its possibilities from the simplicity of a world that is always small and always doomed to despair.
You can now buy the book A Night in Paradise, a new installment of stories by the fascinating Lucia Berlin, here:
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