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Quote by Selva Almada

“No sabía que a una mujer podían matarla por el solo hecho de ser mujer, pero había escuchado historias que, con el tiempo, fui hilvanando. Anécdotas que no habían terminado en la muerte de la mujer, pero que sí habían hecho de ella objeto de la misoginia, del abuso, del desprecio.”

Quote by Selva Almada

Work

Chicas muertas

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Selva Almada

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“Las niñas se educan en el universo mágico de los cuentos de hadas. El príncipe encantador debe abrirse camino entre la maleza para llegar al castillo dela bella durmiente del bosque. La besa. Ella despierta por fin. El cuento ha terminado y hemos aprendido que la felicidad consiste en permanecer encerrada junto al amado.La sirenita dona su inmortalidad y su magnifica cola de pez para tener piernas. Andar es un suplicio, pero ella puede reunirse así con su príncipe encantador ... Que se casa con otra. El cuento ha terminado y hemos aprendido que nada es más hermoso que el sacrificio propio, incluso por un amado que no ama. Tu asesino te quería sólo para él. Se pegó a ti. Creíste que era amor. Era sólo instinto de posesión. Lo contrario del Amor.”

“I had never examined this fear of Trinidad. I had never wished to. In my novels I had only expressed this fear; and it is only now, at the moment of writing, that I am able to attempt to examine it. I knew Trinidad to be unimportant, uncreative, cynical. The only professions were those of law and medicine, because there was no need for any other; and the most successful people were commission agents, bank managers and members of the distributive trades. Power was recognized, but dignity was allowed to no one. Every person of eminence was held to be crooked and contemptible. We lived in a society which denied itself heroes.”

“The Trinidad Carnival and the calypso are both theatres in and metaphors through which the drama of Trinidad’s social history is encoded and enacted, historically a celebratory mass/mas theatre of contested social space: the domain of the stick fighter, the Wild Indian, the Pierrot Grenade, the Midnight Robber, the chantwel and his descendant, the calypsonian, and the pan man of the emerging steelband movement into the 1960s.”

“I treasured these slightly mad little escapades. They were part of the carnival spirit of the city, which seemed on the verge of breaking into a fiesta. Even the five-and-ten-cent stores, the epitome of national conformity, took on a local flavor with their displays of turquoise and silver, Aztec pottery, and hand-tooled leather simply screaming for the open marketplace, while the fake pearls crouched back in awe. But it was the gay little Mexican girls who, smiling sweet-tempered behind the counters, set the mood. Never rude, never dull, never tired, they lent a graciousness to the city that seemed to be in secret league with the sunny atmosphere to conjure up its lighthearted spell.”