Last week a friend loaned me this book: My Invented Country – A Nostalgic Journey through Chile by Isabel Allende. I read it in two long sittings, drinking it in as if it were a tall glass of ice water and I were living in the desert. It gave me history, culture, and understanding.
“If I had never traveled, if I had stayed on, safe and secure in the bosom of my family, if I had accepted my grandfather’s vision and his rules, it would have been impossible for me to recreate or embellish my own existence, because it would have been defined by others and I would merely be one more link in a long family chain. Moving about has forced me, time after time, to readjust my story, and I have done that in a daze, almost without noticing, because I have been too preoccupied with the task of surviving. Most of our lives are similar, and can be told in the tone used to read the telephone directory-unless we decide to give it a little oomph, a little color. In my case, I have tried to polish the details and create my private legend, so that when I am in a nursing home awaiting death I will have something to entertain the other senile old folks with.” (180)
It’s not everyday that I read a memoir and cry because I can relate to the story, but there were parts of this book that I recognized and made me feel less alone. Thank you Isabel Allende!
Much Love,
Tina
Isabel Allende is a wonderful writer and one of my favorites! I am so glad that you have come to know her. The first book of hers that I read was House of Spirits—and I’ve been hooked by her writing ever since. I wonder if she is a storyteller by nature. Isn’t it amazing how the words of others with different life circumstances can fill in some of the blank spaces in our own lives? Give yourself a big hug for me, Tina and keep writing!