Maria Stepanova

An exploration of life at the margins of history from one of Russia's most exciting contemporary writers

In Memory of Memory

Mattea Marjorie

Only now l've realized what it means to feel, only now l've realized where what is called ‘desire’ resides. I didn't see you for a day and I was beartbroken, I didn't know where to put myself, but I didn't ring you or tell you bow my hear was feeling. I was held back by my doubts, my fear, I thought it would divide us, I thought that I sbouldn't be in the grip of my desires to such an extent, I thought... I couldn't stop thinking... But I'm used to being reserved, not giving in to impetuosity, and my reserve saved me. 

Still, you, my darling, you are impetuous in your passion, and today I realized wbat it has cost you to keep your desire under control. And my own sufferings seemed so little in comparison, and I even had the brief fleeting thought that perhaps I’m not worthy of you.

Somewhere by a stream in the mid- to late-1930s two young women are posing for a photograph and they can't stop laughing. One has let her hair loose, she leans down and is about to lay her white knitted shawl in the grass. The other is holding her hat to her head in the invisible breeze. They wear short, lightweight dresses. Their bags are already lying on the ground and their underclothes are crumpled at their feet.

Natalie

This book isn't for everyone; its discursive ruminations on memory follow through with every tangent, no matter how dense the allusions to other works of art, and demand your full attention. But once you're swept up in the rich, poetic, brilliantly translated prose you too will find yourself reflecting on the legacies memorialized by the objects we leave behind.

Sooooo this was my beach read, wtf. I should have read it when it was first published, it would fit better with my studies, and maybe then I would pretend I followed. Like this, I just let it be a dream, trippy and scrambled. Forever in awe of people who can think chronologically and spatially.

Dora Tominic

Disclaimer: this is not a review.

Sooooo this was my beach read, wtf. I should have read it when it was first published, it would fit better with my studies, and maybe then I would pretend I followed. Like this, I just let it be a dream, trippy and scrambled. Forever in awe of people who can think chronologically and spatially.

Nelson Zagalo

Maria Stepanova é uma poeta russa, recipiente do prémio russo literário mais antigo, o Andrei Bely, e da bolsa Joseph Brodsky, com poemas traduzidos em múltiplas línguas. Este seu livro, "In Memory of Memory" (2017/2021), foi nomeado para a pequena lista do International Booker Prize de 2021. Não é poesia, mas é lírico; não é ensaio, mas argumenta sobre arte e o humano; não é romance, mas conta histórias de gerações; não é uma autobiografia, mas centra-se sobre os membros da sua família; sendo tudo isto. Sai em Portugal em setembro pela Relógio d'Água.

4.5/5

Ler a resenha completa no VI: https://virtual-illusion.blogspot.com...

In Memory of Memory

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