Review by Kirkus Book Review
"Who on earth was Elena Garro?" Mexican writer and publisher Barrera confesses she has fallen in love with her enigmatic subject, Garro (1916-1988), a prolific writer of plays, prose, and poetry who is considered a founder of magical realism. Translated by MacSweeney, Barrera's investigation is no biographical narrative, but rather a collage of "stories, ideas, facts, and cats." The facts include Garro's growing up wealthy in Mexico, meeting Octavio Paz at a ball at her aunt's house, marrying him against her parents' objections (they threatened to send her to a convent), and enduring his womanizing and cruelty. Right after they married, she dropped out of college to accompany him to a writers' congress in Spain, a difficult trip that she turned into an "endearing, charismatic" memoir decades later. A much more difficult fact was Garro's recurring poverty; Barrera chronicles Paz's refusal to support his wife and their daughter, Helenita. At the age of 4, the girl, living with Paz's mother, was raped and infected with gonorrhea by his stepfather. Yet Paz sent her back to live there, and she was raped again. Garro and Paz separated, reunited, and lived in the U.S., Mexico, and Europe. In Paris, Garro's friends included André Breton, Picasso, and Sartre; she had an affair with Argentine writer Bioy Casares (among others), but still she was desperately lonely and attempted suicide several times, once drugging Helenita, too. In the end, her daughter was her only companion, along with as many as 13 cats. Both mother and daughter turned into chronic invalids, suffering from agoraphobia and paranoia. Tarot became a comfort, "almost always corroborating their misfortunes and attributing them to a destiny over which they had no control." Barrera admits that spending more than two years inside Garro's life--even dreaming about her--was exhausting, so why she fell in love with her remains a mystery. A prismatic portrait of an elusive woman. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.