Smart’s speaker is a pulsating nerve, unprotected from the larger world, suffering from the trauma of being a consistently othered and infantilised self. No leo poesía, no consigo disfrutarla, y sin embargo no es otra cosa esta personal e impúdica novela de Elizabeth Smart. By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept is a 1945 novel in prose poetry by the Canadian author Elizabeth Smart (1913–1986).

But nothing tangible comes to rescue my besieged sanity, and I cannot decipher the code of the eucalyptus thumping on my roof. Un libro carente de línea argumental, a veces caótico, siempre exigente y extraordinario, y sí, por momentos, oscuro e inescrutable (¡Ay esa parte siete! However, if you are not a lover of poetry, chances are, you will hate this prose poem, for you will expect scenes and plot and definition; you will expect a narrative thread, instead, you will find a thread of mood and imagery. Y aunque estas imágenes, casi abstractas en ocasiones, transmiten con viveza los sentimientos de su autora, el relato de su relación con Barker apenas se puede seguir en el texto. Hizo todo lo posible por encontrarse con él, a pesar de que sabía que estaba casado, y finalmente se las ingenió para conseguir, a principios de los años cuarenta, que Barker visitara junto con su esposa la colonia de escritores en la que Elizabeth vivía en California.How can she walk through the streets, so vulnerable, so unknowing, and not have people and dogs and perpetual calamity following her?

Es una obra desgarradora, que te hace creer en que la literatura no tiene límites, ni la belleza, ni la vida, ni el amor. Tenaz como un pájaro recién nacido, todo boca con su único deseo, cierro los ojos y tiemblo, esperando el paraíso: va a tocarme. it is true there were many moments where i was totally on-board with her writing, but when it was bad, it was very very bad. But who I am to judge the confounding love the author shares with her married, unavailable, and narcissistic lover? This is undoubtedly a beautifully written book, and as much of the praise of it points out, it feels very timeless.In 1943, in the midst of the Battle of the Atlantic, she sailed to England to join Barker, where she gave birth to their second child, Christopher. I realised that throughout their relationship, the idea of Barker was as important to her as the reality: the journey through the storm was as important as the arrival at his door. Not surprisingly, this book, which was first published in 1945, ends up in a lament--with mythical and biblical interpretations. On the amusement page, to fill up space, one inch and a half, perhaps, of those who were forced to die. Eventually they communicated directly and, as a result of Barker's impecunious circumstances, Elizabeth Smart flew both him and his wife to the United States.