The greatest wealth lies in the complementarity. And current Colombian literature offers, in very notable cases, that magical thematic divergence that makes the maniacal task of labeling difficult in favor of a more pure universalization, without stigmas or debts.
What am I coming up with now? Just to illuminate an enlightening comparison of two great contemporary Colombian authors who trace their particular narrative paths.
On the one hand Laura Restrepo, with her vocation as a chronicler and, on the other hand, Ángela Becerra, heir to that magical realism that, in reality, houses that everything between what happens and what we idealize from our subjectivity, a master line that the Colombian author himself Gabriel García Márquez he masterfully traced to accommodate any narrative intention with back and forth from the objective events of our lives to the personal interpretation of each one.
Except that Ángela Becerra invites us to her new melting pot of realism and imagination where he fuses a current lifestyle and the impressions of some characters rescued from a spirited exercise of empathy with an important feminist component and always focused on that side of the impressionist world, seen from the notion of human emotions that can develop in parallel to reason or mark disruptive paths over the expected destination.
Love stories as the greatest of emotions adorned by that mystery of the magic of living.
Plots that delve into the feelings of the characters in recognizable environments but that at times falter before the capacity of human imagination, that great transforming gift capable of projecting utopias for the soul or awakening destructive monsters erected from reason molded to demands of the conventions. Undoubtedly an author of those cited as necessary to green literature as an enriching element in what is essentially human.
Top 3 recommended books by Angela Becerra
The penultimate dream
Paradoxically, the fullest life can be one that looks to the romantic ideal of the unfinished. Human sentiment is magnified in the face of the taxes of unrealization.
Because what about Joan and Soledad points to that impossible aspiration of the essential chemistry of two young people whose hearts beat in unison to the beat of the notes of a piano. Joan plays the piano to cheer up the guests of the hotel where she works. Soledad discovers in her hands something more than the vigor with which she hits the keys.
There are still bad times for love between classes in a Europe emerging from one war and rushing into another. The future will write what it wants about their passion, but the present that was treasures the most intense moments of their lives.
But that future that only predicted their separation will find in their children those who testify about what the feelings of two souls, without a doubt, once they take flight from this world determined to destroy dreams.
She who had it all
A novel that plays with that endless reflection of the narrator who writes about a writer who in turn looks for a character on which to pivot her story.
This resource of the writer who writes about a writer always invites reflection on the job of writing that everyone suffers in their flesh. And in this story, Angela completely dissects the woman who seeks her inspiration halfway between the possible story to tell and her own more deeply existential sensations.
La Donna di Lacrima, with her rimbonbant name, represents a more considerate woman in her generality, exposed to fleeting loves and seeking refuge after surviving her day to day life.
Of the loves denied
After reading this book, it can be deduced that what is unknown and mythologized is loved more. That one can fall madly in love (and also one) with what awakens in that fusion of the physical and even the spiritual in friction with a skin whose geography is still unknown.
Fiamma and Martín are two successful souls in that of love. Only after the peak of emotions, all that remains is to peer into the void from above. A story with an undeniable erotic point, with that doomed taste of carnal love betrayed oneself.
Like the sea itself that bathes this story, the lives of the two lovers oscillate like the foam of the waves. Love as a back and forth movement, hypnotic but sadly repetitive until eternity. And Fiamma and Martín know of their limited, expired time.
The old dilemma between the magic of the moment and the condemnation of the lightness wears the heart of both, like rocks exposed to the blows of hundreds, millions of waves.
The penultimate dream: EXCELLENT !!!