Beatriz Bracher

A professor prepares to retire--Gustavo is set to move from Sao Paulo to the countryside, but it isn't the urban violence he's fleeing: what he fears most is the violence of his memory. But as he sorts out his papers, the ghosts arrive in full force. He was arrested in 1970 with his brother-in-law Armando: both were vicariously tortured. He was eventually released; Armando was killed. No one is certain that he didn't turn traitor: I didn't talk, he tells himself, yet guilt is his lifelong harvest. I Didn't Talk pits everyone against the protagonist--especially his own brother. The torture never ends, despite his bones having healed and his teeth having been replaced. And to make matters worse, certain details from his shattered memory don't quite add up... Beatriz Bracher depicts a life where the temperature is lower, there is no music, and much is out of view. I Didn't Talk's pariah's-eye-view of the forgotten "small" victims powerfully bears witness to their "internal exile." I didn't talk, Gustavo tells himself; and as Bracher honors his endless pain, what burns this tour de force so indelibly in the reader's mind is her intensely controlled voice.

I Didn't Talk

In Beatriz Bracher's Antonio--her third novel and her breakout book in Brazil--Benjamin, on the verge of becoming a father, discovers a tragic family secret involving patrimony and determines to find out how it happened. Those most immediately involved are all dead, but their three closest confidantes are still alive--his grandmother, Isabel; Haroldo, his grandfather's friend; and Raul, his father's friend--and each will tell him different versions of the facts. It is by collecting these shards of memories that Benjamin will piece together the painful puzzle of his family history. As with a Faulkner novel, putting together these three perspectives leads to contradictions as often as to the truth.

Beatriz Bracher

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