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A review by sloatsj
The Book of Embraces by Eduardo Galeano
5.0
I thank the person who recommended this to me and, when I forgot about it, recommended it to me again. I loved this book. It’s a collection of very short reflections that approach prose poetry: memories, dreams, and musings by an author I’d never heard of. Galeano is obviously well known at least in South America. He’s exiled to Barcelona for many years for political reasons I don’t pretend to understand, but returns to Uruguay near the end of his life. My ignorance of the circumstances and his other work didn’t interfere at all with my enjoyment of this wonderful book, which I’d recommend to anyone who likes magical anecdotes and tangents and doesn’t need a plot.
In addition to the writing, Galeano is also an excellent artist and provided the witty and surreal drawings for the book. They make the book more personal, besides being quite well done. I don’t understand why the publisher decided to use folksy wooden bird carvings on the cover when there are ample - and much better - artworks to choose from from Galeano’s own hand.
Anyway, original, poetic, transporting, and often spine-tinglingly touching passages with the occasional spritz of magical realism. Even the dedication to the translator was a knock-out. Here’s one of my favorite passages:
Grapes and Wine
On his deathbed, a man of the vineyards spoke into Marcela’s ear. Before dying, he revealed his secret:
“The grape,” he whispered, “is made of wine.”
Marcela Perez-Silva told me this, and I thought: if the grape is made of wine, then perhaps we are the words that tell who we are.
*
Much enjoyed.
In addition to the writing, Galeano is also an excellent artist and provided the witty and surreal drawings for the book. They make the book more personal, besides being quite well done. I don’t understand why the publisher decided to use folksy wooden bird carvings on the cover when there are ample - and much better - artworks to choose from from Galeano’s own hand.
Anyway, original, poetic, transporting, and often spine-tinglingly touching passages with the occasional spritz of magical realism. Even the dedication to the translator was a knock-out. Here’s one of my favorite passages:
Grapes and Wine
On his deathbed, a man of the vineyards spoke into Marcela’s ear. Before dying, he revealed his secret:
“The grape,” he whispered, “is made of wine.”
Marcela Perez-Silva told me this, and I thought: if the grape is made of wine, then perhaps we are the words that tell who we are.
*
Much enjoyed.