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lacywolfe's review against another edition
5.0
The range of Rodoreda's stories is astounding. You can certainly follow her development as a writer (the stories are printed in chronological order). There are so many gems in this collection. I absolutely loved it. Looking forward to reading more by her. Up next will be Death in Spring.
rebeccahussey's review
4.0
It’s been a while since I finished The Selected Stories of Merce Rodoreda, published by Open Letter Books, so details of individual stories are a little hazy, but overall, the collection impressed me. The stories are full of drama and passion, not at all like the quiet stories with small epiphanies that you find so often in American short fiction. I like quiet stories as well, but it was a nice change to have more action, more bright, vibrant characters and overpowering emotions.
Rodoreda is a Catalan writer who died in 1983; these stories come from three collections published in 1958, 1978, and one that (as far as I can tell) was collected after her death. These stories are published in chronological order, and become more experimental toward the end, moving toward a more impressionistic, stream-of-consciousness style. I was less taken with these stories than with the more realistic ones, but it was interesting to see her moving in new directions and experimenting with new styles.
Read the rest of the review at Of Books and Bicycles.
Rodoreda is a Catalan writer who died in 1983; these stories come from three collections published in 1958, 1978, and one that (as far as I can tell) was collected after her death. These stories are published in chronological order, and become more experimental toward the end, moving toward a more impressionistic, stream-of-consciousness style. I was less taken with these stories than with the more realistic ones, but it was interesting to see her moving in new directions and experimenting with new styles.
Read the rest of the review at Of Books and Bicycles.
kikireads's review
4.0
That is a fair approximation of the Rodoreda reading experience.
“Forgive me” are the last words in the opening story 'Blood’, words that I too should have mouthed into the ether. How could I have forgotten that Mercè Rodoreda was such a wonder?
I'd read [b:My Christina and Other Stories|1442253|My Christina and Other Stories|Mercè Rodoreda|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1312022328s/1442253.jpg|53040617] over a decade ago in what proved to be a grand introductory reading year to translated literature and small publishers. In the present, all I could remember was a (vague) awed response linked to an image of a glowing salamander radiating a visible, layered aura. (Think of what 3D films look like when you're not wearing 3D glasses.) Would her writing generate that same sustainable energy that powered this creature since 2007?
The first page eliminated all doubt.
I've never read a short stories collection that made me want to bow before the editor who put it together until now. 'Blood’ was a perfect introduction to Rodoreda's signatures. The verisimilar 1st person monologue that creates a hologram in which the speaker is fully materialised before you, the captive audience. The brief, intense examinations of intimate relationship, sometimes familial but mostly romantic. How she channeled the story through a single character's prism, the reader's experience saturated in an emotional kaleidoscope which could be sombre, passionate, paranoid, dreamy, hopeful, and despondent all at once. Then at the collection's peak Rodoreda shattered the prism, no discernible border left between the characters’ inner and external realities.
Rodoreda showed the short story's form to perfection. She zoomed in on a single scene in a couple's life or captured a relationship's life in stories of a similar, brief length. I thought I would find the focus on couples repetitive but instead I ended up admiring how Rodoreda could isolate and illuminate particular moments or stages. I involuntarily gasped and thought, I know this! I've felt that!
And when you think you've grasped what it's all about the firm ground beneath you crumbles. (Remember that salamander?) Rodoreda (1908-1983) was a Catalan writer born in Barcelona, Spain. Most of her stories were set in Barcelona and France, many during WWII. The closer she wrote to the war--this is the impression the collection gives you--was the more surreal the book sometimes set in harsh contrast to the violence the characters try to escape.
If you haven't read Mercè Rodoreda before the time is now. All hail Martha Tennent for an astonishing translation which transmuted such magnificence into English. I can't wait to read her translation of Rodoreda's novels.
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