illustrated by Malota (Mar Hernández)
Hasta los diez años pensaba que en el mundo había muy pocos libros <...> Yo los leía como se lee a esa edad si no te has criado en una casa de padres lectores: de manera desordenada, siguendo el instinto más primario, es decir, la atracción por el título y la portada.
Well. I grew up surrounded by books, both my parents were teachers, but even now, when I chose a book in the library, I still follow that very instinct. For example: the only reason I picked up this book was the title and the cover picture. (Don’t worry, there are more illustrations inside.) So, another happy discovery.
Although I am not a woman, not Spanish, and not thirty anymore, Carmen’s experiences rang all sorts of bells for me, and rather loudly. Her desire to be like Pippi Longstocking (and ensuing conflict with her internal Annika). Encounters with of all sorts of taboos and euphemisms concerning structure and function of female body. (Are we still talking about Western Europe, the late 20th century? Yes we are.) Her love of books, her connection with their authors. Her outsidership: too bossy (for a girl), too independent, not too slim, not too interested in getting married... Her realisation, already in the university, of being a feminist, after being called one. Her foreign stints — Braunschweig, Prague, London, anywhere really just to escape her backwater pueblo, only to find herself back there again. Her dreams, doubts, despair.
Fair enough, but all this on its own is hardly enough to make a worthwhile book. The language, however, does the job, splendidly. Carmen writes about serious stuff, but she’s a fun to read, from Preface to Acknowledgements. And did I mention the illustrations? The nice final touch: the book is printed on a beautiful top-quality paper made from sustainable timber, certified as “Friend of the Forest” by Greenpeace.