Overview
De la autora de Somos luces abismales, presentamos El Sol: un libro claro y misterioso que no atiende a la separación entre los géneros y en el que se mezclan, con tanto gozo como maestría, el ensayo, la poesía y la narrativa.
«Todo lo que vive quiere ver el sol siguiente. Todo quiere no solo no morir, sino seguir naciendo. Una vez más, otra vez, salir al día, y que la siguiente sea la misma vez y nueva. Probar el límite, no llegando sino volviendo a empezar.
»Eso me parece que pasa. Eso me nubla, pues no quiero primero la muerte, pero no tengo el callado entusiasmo de la vaca, o de lo que puedo imaginarle: su aliento. Su confianza en que estará viva en la mañana. Su querer la confianza. Su impulso central de arriba abajo: el Sol, que recorre su arco para ella; que sale de bajo la panza de la vaca —que es un puente— y va subiendo, y se pone encima de la vaca, sobre su lomo recto, esa línea que la limita por encima, esa derechura casi prodigiosa, casi humorística, que hace pensar bien en la cabeza y en la cola al conectarlas limpiamente, un horizonte íntimo…».
ENGLISH DESCRIPTION
By the author of We Are Abysmal Lights, comes The Sun, a bright and mysterious book that does not abide by the boundaries between genres, and in which essay, poetry, and narrative are intermixed with as much joy as mastery.
“All that lives wants to see the sun of the following day. All do not want to die, but to keep being born. Over and over, meet the day, and that the next time may be the same time and anew. Test the limit, not by arriving, but by beginning again.
“That is what I think is happening. That is what clouds me, since I don’t want death first, but I do not possess the quiet enthusiasm of the cow, or of what I could imagine for it: its breath. Its trust in the fact that it will be alive come morning. Her want of trust. Her central impulse from top to bottom: the Sun, which follows its arc for her, which comes from under the cow’s belly—it is a bridge—and keeps going up, setting over the cow, on her straight back, that line that limits above, that straightness almost prodigal, almost humorous, that gets you thinking right in the head and in the tail, connecting them cleanly, an intimate horizon...”
«Todo lo que vive quiere ver el sol siguiente. Todo quiere no solo no morir, sino seguir naciendo. Una vez más, otra vez, salir al día, y que la siguiente sea la misma vez y nueva. Probar el límite, no llegando sino volviendo a empezar.
»Eso me parece que pasa. Eso me nubla, pues no quiero primero la muerte, pero no tengo el callado entusiasmo de la vaca, o de lo que puedo imaginarle: su aliento. Su confianza en que estará viva en la mañana. Su querer la confianza. Su impulso central de arriba abajo: el Sol, que recorre su arco para ella; que sale de bajo la panza de la vaca —que es un puente— y va subiendo, y se pone encima de la vaca, sobre su lomo recto, esa línea que la limita por encima, esa derechura casi prodigiosa, casi humorística, que hace pensar bien en la cabeza y en la cola al conectarlas limpiamente, un horizonte íntimo…».
ENGLISH DESCRIPTION
By the author of We Are Abysmal Lights, comes The Sun, a bright and mysterious book that does not abide by the boundaries between genres, and in which essay, poetry, and narrative are intermixed with as much joy as mastery.
“All that lives wants to see the sun of the following day. All do not want to die, but to keep being born. Over and over, meet the day, and that the next time may be the same time and anew. Test the limit, not by arriving, but by beginning again.
“That is what I think is happening. That is what clouds me, since I don’t want death first, but I do not possess the quiet enthusiasm of the cow, or of what I could imagine for it: its breath. Its trust in the fact that it will be alive come morning. Her want of trust. Her central impulse from top to bottom: the Sun, which follows its arc for her, which comes from under the cow’s belly—it is a bridge—and keeps going up, setting over the cow, on her straight back, that line that limits above, that straightness almost prodigal, almost humorous, that gets you thinking right in the head and in the tail, connecting them cleanly, an intimate horizon...”
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