viernes, 18 de octubre de 2013

La opinión de BLANCA MIOSI

La reconocida autora de LA BÚSQUEDA, EL LEGADO, EL MANUSCRITO y otras novelas no menos importantes, Blanca Miosi,  nos da su opinión sobre la novela
UNA VEZ MÁS. *****



Most Helpful Customer Reviews
5.0 out of 5 stars Una vez más... October 17, 2013
Format:Kindle Edition|Amazon Verified Purchase
Dos vidas se funden en un solo cuerpo, ¿o podría decirse dos almas?
Vidas paralelas con cien años de diferencia, en las que el hilo que las une es el amor. Una novela que nos hace preguntarnos si es posible que ocurran fenómenos como la reencarnación, y cómo la fuerza de un amor pudiera trascender el tiempo y el espacio. Considero "Una vez más" una novela intimista que tiene mucho del autor, al menos es la sensación que me ha dejado, y muchas preguntas, no porque no hayan sido respondidas a lo largo de la novela, es porque me ha creado mis propias interrogantes. Voy a darle cinco estrellas por la originalidad del tema, y porque el final se sale de los tópicos.

jueves, 17 de octubre de 2013

Comentarios en amazon.com

Los lectores de las novelas de al Tirado que han dejado sus comentarios, aparecen en la página:

https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/community

1.
Apasionante! October 7, 2013
Una Vez Más es un libro de ficción increíble sobre dos historias en donde los personajes principales naufragan en diferente siglo, y excepcionalmente el primero reencarna en el otro mediante ambas muertes. A pesar de que yo no creo en la reencarnación, el texto está bien escrito y es muy apasionante.
2.
1 of 1 people found the following helpful
Buena. Recomendable November 4, 2012
Con un lenguaje coloquial, fresco y con un espíritu joven, el viejo Al Tirado nos narra sus memorias desde que era un niño hasta nuestros días, en un orden cronológico intermitente, donde rescata paisajes interesantes de sus múltiples viajes por el mundo, de sus relaciones con sus mujeres y sus múltiples ocupaciones.
3.
1 of 1 people found the following helpful
La vida desde el estribo September 3, 2012
Si bien pudiera tratarse de una novela de aventuras alrededor del mundo o, como reminiscencia al título de uno de las obras de Marco Aurelio Almazán, La Vuelta al Mundo con 80 Tías, realmente se trata de las memorias de Alfonso Tirado.

En una mesa revuelta llena de recuerdos igual infantiles, que de otras latitudes y edades, a la par de íntimas reflexiones existenciales, el lector salta de unos a otros no sólo sin perder el hilo de la historia sino también encontrando el porqué a tal o cual situación. Más que flashbacks, es vivir entre los diversos mundos del autor que confluyen para crear nuevos, entendiendo así la razón de ser de este libro.

Así, se siente uno sentado a la mesa del autor, seguramente con algunos tintos de por medio, disfrutando de su vida y aventuras.

Sin el ánimo de "arruinar el final" se da uno cuenta que toda la obra por sí misma es un testamento de vida, de alguien que logró lo que buscaba y se encontró con disfrutables aventuras a la vuelta de una esquina, sin saber que sucederían, pero con el espíritu ávido porque sucedieran.Show Less
4.
2 of 2 people found the following helpful
Excelente June 28, 2012
Excelente novela romántica, que basada en la realidad la convierten en un testimonio sorprendente de la revolución mexicana, con un final totalmente inesperado.
5.
1 of 1 people found the following helpful
Magical San Miguel de Allende April 22, 2010
As an international photo-journalist and a Mexican native, Al Tirado has the perfect insider's eye to capture the enchanting Colonial town of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. Insightful, rich and beautiful photos ... If you can't sit in the Jardin and soak it all in in person, this is the second best thing!

EL FUTURO DEL eLIBRO ESTA AQUÍ

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viernes, 11 de octubre de 2013

ALICE MUNRO WINS 2013 NOBEL PRIZE IN LITERATURE

Short story master Alice Munro, who captures the everyday lives and epiphanies of men and women in rural Canada with elegant and precise prose, won the NOBEL PRIZE IN LITERATURE on Thursday.
Munro is the first Canadian writer to receive the prestigious $1.2 million award from the Swedish Academy.  (AP)
 It is a pleasure for all of us who write short stories that this genre is recognized and rewarded as literary gender.

La maestra escritora de historias cortas, que capta con elegancia y prosa precisa las vidas y las epifanías de la vida de hombres y mujeres en el campo rural de Canadá,  recibió este jueves el PREMIO NOBEL DE LITERATURA.

La señora Munro es la primera canadiense en recibir el prestigioso premio y el $1.2 millón de dólares de la Academia Sueca, (AP)

Es una satisfacción para los que escribimos historias cortas - o cuento corto - que este genero sea reconocido y premiado como genero literario.

lunes, 7 de octubre de 2013

The Smell of Time - Short story



THE SMELL OF TIME

-It smells bad to me - said grandma when she knew that Elenita, her granddaughter wants to married the "good for nothing" of her boyfriend. And not only for the opinion that she had about that young man, was what was bothering her was the smell of the situation. Even when the family explain to her that it was normal to want to be married, as long as Elenita was already a little woman with all her rights to have her own life. But the grandmother repeat her yaquidi yaqui.
- Any way, it smells bad to me. And do not make me talk more than I want.
- Ayy mom, everything smells bad to you.  Reply her daughter Lucrecia.

One month later they have to tell grandma, that they have to rush the wedding, because the little Elenita was going to be mother sooner than expected, in six months to be precise.
- I told you! It told you, didn't I?  I wasn't wrong hijita, my sense of smell can't be wrong.
But the family didn't put too much attention to that. Neither they paid attention to her habit of smelling everything. One night while watching TV, out of nothing she asked.
- Is someone cooking? because it smells to me like something is burning.
But nobody was cooking, and everybody just look to grandma rolling the eyes, like if she had said something foolish
Ten minutes later, the howling of the siren was coming from the streets. Grandma went to the window to look what was going on, and returned to the sofa with a wide smile on her face, and said:
- The fire truck. Must be a fire not far from here!.
But nobody paid attention to her remark, because they were concentrated in the soap opera, and because at that point nobody remember what grandma said several  minutes earlier.
Grandma Teresita knew perfectly how her sensibility was so far, and she knew her capacity to detect smells at distance, was increasing. One day she asked her daughter:
- Where did you put the roses?, I can't see them nowhere.
It was surprising to Lucrecia, and ask how did she knew about it.
- Ayy, please, it is nothing to guess - she reply firmly - the smell is reaching me since ten minutes ago.
- Aughhh, Ma!. We can't keep a secret with you. I hide them in the laundry room, and keep them away until tomorrow morning as a surprise present for your birthday.
Of course, not always she was receiving nice aromas, and further more her daughter complaint that she was playing the smelling thing just to demand attention. And she got to the point in which her sensibility to the smells was becoming a real problem and she begun to refuse leaving home. It was impossible for her to stand the stink of people by the streets and far less in church, where the smell was mixed with the suffocating  vapors of candles and flowers. The two previous times going to church had been suffering journeys. She was closing her eyes like if doing that. will help her to go away from the torture, but the smell was not fading. She knew when was passing by a drugstore or a mechanic shop, further more she knew when a woman with her period was crossing her way. She just stoped going out since the day she was throwing out in the middle of the street because she said:  Somebody here has a rotten liver.
`Locked in her room she start looking for remedies to stop her smelling sense. First she try to filter the odors with pads wet in alcohol, but didn’t make any difference. Then she tried a mask whit turpentine, not only didn’t help, she was getting intoxicated and she concluded that it was worst the remedy than the malady, because the smells were being as painful as the pains in the chest.
            Inspired by the plumber’s wisdom she came with the idea that was necessary to block the inlets, and put cloves of garlic in her nostrils, looking to get the sense disabled. When she didn’t get any results, in desperation she build a mask with wet newspapers over her face with just a small hole to breath by her mouth and two more to look out. But the only she got was the laughing of everybody who were telling her that her look was like a mojiganga..
Nothing helped and the smells were torturing her like sharp drilling tools.
The smells from the nearby market, the smell of the  spices in   kitchen, the yellowish smell of the canary and the soupy of the perico became unbearable. So she locked the species under three padlocks and send the birds away to the roof.
Now she knew that there was nothing she can do to avoid the smells that were all kind of taste and colors, and she could separate the smells if she want to, that’s why one night when she was getting ready  to go to  bed , she detect a very light smell, and she couldn’t explain what was it, or from where was coming from. She didn’t pay much attention, probably just one more of many around.
But the following morning was detected again but she notice that little by little was increasing its intensity. By the end of the day she knew what was that smell.
- Is the smell of death!.  Told to her  daughter.
- Please Mom, don’t talk foolishness.
Lucrecia was worry about her words, because now, everybody knew that she was right when smelling something, but nobody wanted to recognize her predicting abilities.
- I can’t help it! she said, it is coming to me since few days ago, and I can tell where is coming from.
That night the smell was so intense that Lucrecia was trying to comfort her mother with cloths damped in lotion, nothing. Then she try with lemon peels mixed with yerbabuena until run out of lotion. When she was trying a mixture of marjoram and camphor, her mother stop her hands.
- Don’t you worry... - she said - now I know where the smell is coming from... Is nothing you can do, because the smell is coming out from here - and she put her hand softly over her heart. - Tomorrow morning I’m going to die. It’s about time, my smell sense is telling me.

 Al Tirado

viernes, 4 de octubre de 2013

CITAS CITABLES de GARCÍA MÁRQUEZ

En algun momento, en algúna página, entre algún café el Maestro Gabo dijo:

"No hay mayor gloria que la de morir de Amor."

"La gente loca, no esta loca si uno acepta sus razonamientos."

"No importa... Nadie te puede quitar lo bailado."

"La incredulidad es más resistente que la fe, ya que es sostenida por los sentidos."

"La vergüenza tiene poca memoria."