Paula: A Memoir(front cover image of the item may vary)
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When Isabel Allende's daughter, Paula, became gravely ill and fell into a coma, the author began to write the story of her family for her unconscious child. In the telling, bizarre ancestors appear before our eyes; we hear both delightful and bitter childhood memories, amazing anecdotes of youthful years, and the most intimate secrets passed along in whispers. With Paula, Allende has written a powerful autobiography whose straightforward acceptance of the magical and spiritual worlds will remind readers of her first book, The House of the Spirits.
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shivered with cold in that unheated room, even after I put on Willie’s cashmere sweater that hung to my knees, wrapping me in an embrace scented with English soap. Throughout our lives, we had been accumulating experiences that perhaps helped us to know each other and to develop the necessary instincts to divine the other’s wishes, but even had we behaved with the clumsiness of cubs, I think that night would have been decisive for each of us. What was new for him? For me? I don’t know, but I like
Nicolás a chance. How can he give me a hand if you never leave me alone? Please don’t grieve, Mama. . . .” “Wake up, you’re crying in your sleep!” I hear Willie’s voice coming from a great distance, and, without opening my eyes, I try to sink farther into the darkness so my daughter will not disappear: this may be her last visit, I may never hear her voice again. “Wake up, wake up, it’s a nightmare. . . .” My husband is shaking me. “Wait for me, Paula! I want to go with you!” I scream, and then
the traditional gold band on the wedding finger. “Brilliant.” —New York Times Book Review “Like a slow, seductive lover, Allende teases, tempts, and titillates with mesmerizing stories.” —Washington Post APHRODITE: A MEMOIR OF THE SENSES Under the aegis of the Goddess of Love, Isabel Allende uses her storytelling skills brilliantly in Aphrodite to evoke the delights of food and sex. After considerable research and study, she has become an authority on aphrodisiacs, which include everything
such a project, a wave of irrational hope mobilized many, many people in the society who had been waiting for the emergence of a New Man, a more generous, compassionate, and just individual motivated by high ideals. At the very instant Allende’s triumph was proclaimed, his adversaries began to sabotage it, and the wheel of fortune took a tragic turn. The night of the election I did not go out in the street to celebrate with Allende’s supporters, not wanting to offend my in-laws and my
of Allende’s political career. I had the opportunity to attend one or two gatherings in the new residence, where still the only topic of conversation was politics. When my parents came from Argentina, the president invited us to a summer house high in the hills near the capital, where he liked to spend weekends. After lunch we watched absurd cowboy movies, which he found relaxing. The bedrooms that opened onto the patio were occupied by a group of volunteer bodyguards that Allende called “my