El despertar de las musas

by Beatriz Luengo
illustrated by Marta Waterme

Wait, by that Beatriz Luengo? Yes by her.

There’s nothing wrong with a singer/dancer/actor publishing a book. It’s natural to expand your line of merchandise. Especially now, with all performing arts being hit so hard by the pandemic. (Even though the Spanish edition was published in 2019, the English-language version, creatively renamed Badass Muses, is out only now.) I’m sure there are fans who will buy and maybe even read the book simply because they are, well, Ms. Luengo’s fans. The rest of the reading public needs a better reason to part with their money.

Beatriz Luengo nos descubre la parte más íntima de doce musas creadoras que no fueron reconocidas en su momento y en las que se refleja para confesar su propia realidad como mujer y artista.

Beatriz Luengo discovers us the most intimate part of twelve creative muses, who weren’t recognized at their times, and in which, as in a mirror, she reflects herself confessing her own truth as a woman and an artist.

So, twelve muses, or, rather, eleven muses and one, um, muso; still, two more than the ancient Greeks had. Each chapter is built according to the same plan: a bit of fiction loosely (sometimes too loosely) based on a “true story”; short biography, if available; a snippet of poetry followed by a self-reflective story, both said to be inspired by that muse. Great protagonists, amazing illustrations. So-so text. Allow me to explain.

I have no problems with fiction deviating from the facts — that’s why it’s fiction — and less so when almost no facts are known. I do have problems, however, with seemingly non-fictional accounts plagued with glaring factual errors. This doesn’t do good service to the author’s muses. No, Valentina Tereshkova was not pregnant when she went to space. No, James Barry did not invent vaccine against syphilis; as a matter of fact, there is still no such vaccine. It does not make his (her) life any less amazing. Most of the self-reflection/self-promotion bits are forgettable, if not already forgotten. And what Mr. Carlos Acosta CBE is doing here? He, for one, does not need any vindication. If he wasn’t recognised at his time (which is now), I don’t know who was. The same is true, by the way, about Rosalía Mera, the world’s richest self-made woman.

But who am I to question the author’s choices? Why, I am the reader.

I wouldn’t pick it up from the library at all if not for the illustrations by Marta Waterme, which, on a balance, make the book just about tolerable. The print quality is also very good. Still, you’re bound to be disappointed. If you are looking for a great book about inspirational women, check out Las Mujeres Mueven Montañas by Pepita Sandwich.

Mary Magdalene — A lo incorrecto pero eterno Mileva Marić — Para viajar al olvido... Nannerl (Maria Anna Mozart) — A la niña engañada Margaret Ann Bulkley (James Barry) — Anatomía mundana Waris Dirie — A la libertad Valentina Tereshkova — El hombre y el morbo Margaret Keane — Terapia casera para el rencor Eve — Emigrar La Malinche — Al amor que se va Rosalía Mera — Soñar Elena Ivanovna Diakonova (Gala Dalí) — Hazme música Carlos Acosta — A los sueños