Perla by Carolina De Robertis–256 pages

Book Blurb:

Perla Correa grew up a privileged only child in Buenos Aires, with a cold, polished mother and a straitlaced naval officer father, whose profession she learned early on not to disclose in a country still reeling from the abuses perpetrated by the deposed military dictatorship. Perla understands that her parents were on the wrong side of the conflict, but her love for her papΓ‘ is unconditional. But when Perla is startled by an uninvited visitor, she begins a journey that will force her to confront the unease she has suppressed all her life, and to make a wrenching decision about who she is, and who she will become.

My Review: 4 stars

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This book took me on a ride I was not expecting. This author is a poetic wordsmith that wrote about a tragic and violent war and told its history through a love story and magical realism. This book started a little slow but quickly took a turn that kept me involved and desperately trying to figure out how the β€œvisitor” and Perla were connected. Sadly, all I knew of this war in Argentina’s history is what I gleaned through the Broadway show Evita so this book enlightened me quite a bit. Highly recommend this work of literary historical fiction for book clubs.

Β Quotes I liked:

Β  Β  Β  Β β€œThere’s that feeling that comes when you read something and the lines speak directly to you, and to you only, even thought the person who wrote them died long before you were born, or even if alive, had no idea you exist. The words seep right into your mind. They pour into your secret hollows and take their shape, a perfect fit, like water. And you are slightly less alone in the universe, because you have been witnessed, because you have been filled, because someone once found words for things within you that you couldn’t yourself nameβ€”something gesturing not only toward what you are, but what you could become. In that sense, books raise you, in a way your parents can’t. They emancipate you.”

–Β Β Β Β Β Β  β€œTo recognize her name as something he himself had given, the gift of syllables in his mouth, in hers, in the mouths of the world, may this name become your home.”

–Β Β Β Β Β Β  β€œWords are incomplete and yet we need them. They are the cups that give our memories shape, and keep them from trickling away.”

 

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