Una entra able celebraci n de la familia y del papel de la memoria en el desarrollo individual.
La protagonista viaja a Bulgaria en busca de los ltimos hablantes del ladino, la lengua con ecos de Cervantes que naci a finales del siglo XV tras la expulsi n de los jud os de Espa a. M s que la lengua de mi infancia, es la infancia de mi lengua. Con una mirada atenta hacia el tiempo que se aleja, la autora, de la mano de dos lenguas, va y viene de la evocaci n a la a oranza. Una abuela agria y malhumorada se convierte en el apoyo dram tico, a la vez terrible y humor stico, de esta entra able historia. La sombra de los padres perdidos, as como las voces de tantos antepasados que la transportan a Sofia, Plovdiv, Esmirna, Sal nica, Estambul y siempre a M xico viven en las distintas capas de esta obra m gica (Premio Xavier Villaurrutia y traducida a varios idiomas) que, como la cebolla, se arma en capas y a veces, al deshojarla, hace llorar.
ENGLISH DESCRIPTION
A heartfelt celebration of family and the role of memory in individual growth.
The protagonist travels to Bulgaria in search of the last speakers of Ladino, the language with echoes of Cervantes that was born in the late 15th century after the expulsion of the Jews from Spain. "More than the language of my childhood, it is the childhood of my language." With a keen eye on time slipping away, the author, guided by two languages, moves between evocation and longing. A sour and bad-tempered grandmother becomes the dramatic, both terrible and humorous, support of this touching story.
The shadow of lost parents and the voices of many ancestors transport her to Sofia, Plovdiv, Smyrna, Salonica, Istanbul, and always back to Mexico. These layers live in this magical work (Xavier Villaurrutia Award winner and translated into several languages), which, like an onion, is built in layers and sometimes, when peeled back, brings tears.