Contributions by Julia Ostmann
Julia Ostmann translates from Spanish. Currently she studies creative writing, Spanish, and the history of science at Harvard University, where she writes for several student newspapers and magazines. In Buenos Aires, she has taken classes at the University of Buenos Aires, Torcuato di Tella University, and the National University Institute of Art. Some of her literary role models include Zadie Smith, Gabriela Mistral, Joan Didion, Alfonsina Storni, Karen Russell, and Thornton Wilder. She is a native Southern Californian.
Profética [puebla]
![Profética [puebla]](http://www.buenosairesreview.org/wp-content/uploads/dos.jpg)
Rafael Toriz
Translated by Julia Ostmann
Chatting Over A Drink
Conversation in the Convent
Being, appearing to be, and running a bookstore in Mexico is a high art, not suitable for the lazy and much less for the novice. In a country where drinking is a national sport and where disorganized realities demand constant interpretation, the invitation to buy and read books seems at first like a mistake, then a deviation. In the end, it seems like a warm welcome.
For this reason, and so the endeavor bears fruit, a few daring people have put together—with distinct success—a fascinating hybrid that fulfills two essential needs: the bookstore bar, that is, the wineglass lubricated by books, a concept not far off from my idea of paradise.
Among the various options for getting hammered among a few though learned books, the most conspicuous, elegant, … Read More »
Luna Miguel
YOU HAD GLITTER ON YOUR FINGERS
I can hug the old refrigerator before they take it away.
I can write that you had glitter on your fingers and that burning glitter smells like a fairy tale.
I can bite the cat’s tail.
I can bite my husband’s beard, because it is mine, because it is mine and tastes like fruit.
I can cry and say that I’m crying, and not feel embarrassed by my pink cheeks.
I can be sappy.
I can dance naked with the windows open.
I can paint each nail a different color.
I can clean the house only once a week.
I can refuse to read the news.
I can refuse to hear the planes.
I can refuse to feed the mosquitoes with my thick, viscous blood.
I can invent a lullaby for deaf children, the only thing missing is a voice, the only thing missing is a long … Read More »
Orellana [valparaíso]
![Orellana [valparaíso]](http://www.buenosairesreview.org/wp-content/uploads/la-foto-crop.jpg)
Álvaro Bisama
translated by Julia Ostmann
My favorite bookstore is a ghost bookstore. It was called the Orellana and was located in the center of Valparaíso. It closed a couple of years ago. It just couldn’t hold out anymore. Its owners were an old couple that had been there since the mid-’50s or ’60s. He was tall and thin; she was tiny and wore thick glasses.
I never knew their names.
My grandmother had kept an account at the bookstore ever since it opened. My grandmother read a lot: in the house where I grew up, my parents’ books were mixed with hers. That library formed or deformed me. Many of those volumes came from the Orellana, easy to recognize thanks to a stamp on the first page. When my parents got paid at the end of the month, they would give … Read More »
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