Giannina Braschi, profeta literaria de su tierra

Unknown-1.jpegPor Camile Roldán Soto

t2sdata64864804.jpg
La escritora puertorriqueña Giannina Braschi utilizó un momento de transición en la historia de la política norteamericana -la elección de Donald Trump a la presidencia de Estados Unidos- como punto de partida para escribir la que será su próxima obra literaria.

“‘El Imperio de los sueños’ fue escrito en la época de (Ronald) Reagan, ‘Yo Yo Boing’ en la época de (Bill) Clinton y ‘United States of Banana’ en la de (George W.) Bush y (Barack) Obama. Esta novela es sobre lo que está pasando ahora. Yo como que capto las épocas. Las épocas americanas”, explicó.

En este trabajo, la autora aborda los temas de “lo sagrado y lo profano” en dos textos que se comunicarán entre sí, según adelantó durante una entrevista realizada en estos días en medio de una breve visita que realizó a la Isla.

Braschi, autora de la primera novela escrita en “spanglish” (“Yo Yo Boing”), vive en Nueva York desde los 20 años, pero mantiene una conexión con la isla. A través de sus escritos y pronunciamientos ha expresado su firme convicción en la necesidad de que Puerto Rico se convierta en una nación libre.

Aunque su más reciente trabajo no está inspirado directamente en la isla, sí toca situaciones que pueden relacionarse con la situación que vive el país.

“Tiene algo que ver con Puerto Rico porque trata sobre lo que desquicia a los seres humanos, lo que te saca del comfort en el que estás, que es lo que le ha pasado a la isla”, reflexionó.

“Cuando era niña, mis padres decían: ‘Puerto Rico no puede ser libre porque seríamos pobres como Cuba o Haití’. Y resulta que nunca, por el miedo a ser pobres, nos atrevimos a ser libres. Entonces viene un huracán, arrasa con todo, y a lo mejor somos más pobres que Cuba o Haití, y sin libertad. Esto nos lleva a un estado de crisis muy grande”, opinó la también poeta y ensayista.

Cuando escribió ‘United States of Banana’, su segunda novela, Braschi no estaba pensando en la crisis que podría enfrentar su país. Sin embargo, hoy siente que fue una suerte de “profeta”.

“Vi venir la catástrofe antes de que ocurriera. Lo vi todo y no había pasado nada. Nadie estaba pensando en una crisis como la que ha ocurrido, que te lleva al fondo de ti mismo y te remueve por dentro todas las entrañas. Es una crisis de identidad muy profunda”, precisó, dijo al referirse al azote del huracán María en septiembre del año pasado.

La autora se encontraba en Nueva York cuando ocurrió el fenómeno atmosférico y desde allá sintió el coraje por la manera en la que el gobierno estadounidense manejó la situación. Específicamente, sobre la actitud del presidente Trump durante su fugaz visita a la isla, la que secribe como “una falta de respeto inmensa”.

“No hay palabras para expresar la rabia que siento contra el desdén americano de Trump. De atreverse a decir que a nosotros nos gusta que nos hagan las cosas cuando, en el fondo, es todo lo contrario. Lo que queremos es que nos dejen tranquilos para encontrarnosa nosotros mismos”, opinó.

Mientras trabaja en la novela, que espera publicar dentro de dos años, Braschi viaja a diferentes partes del mundo. Le gustan los lugares donde percibe que hay cosas por pasar.

“Me gustan los lugares pequeños porque ahí hay una concentración. Cuando estaba escribiendo ‘United States of Banana’ me fui a Newark. Dije: ‘aquí pueden pasar cosas’. Eso es lo que está pasando en Puerto Rico. Pasó el huracán, pero todavía no se han levantado las multitudes, como olas, rebelándose contra la falta de respeto que están sufriendo”, apuntó.

Advertisements

A Graphic Revolution, Talking Poetry & Politics with Giannina Braschi

An interview by Amy Sheeran and Amanda M. Smith
Serious Play, Serious Conversation
Chiricú Journal: Latina/o Literatures, Arts, and Cultures
Indiana University Press
Volume 2, Number 2, Spring 2018

Screen_Shot_2018-09-13_at_9.47_.14_AM_.png

An EXCERPT

Stepping into Giannina Braschi’s apartment makes one feel like an unruly child. The space is filled with surprising, whimsical objects that beg to be investigated, handled, played with. Futuristic LED-lit candles by Ingo Maurer in the guise of circuit boards are designed to deceive; a collection of carefully arranged miniatures in a cabinet of curiosities straddles the line between play and display. The brightly colored clay and metal furniture, by Dutch designer Maarten Baas, would look equally appropriate in a museum or a preschool classroom. The playfulness of the space belies Braschi’s assertion: “I don’t want to be comfortable . . . I want to feel strict.” On a high shelf, rosy-cheeked marionettes observe our interview. “They’re very well behaved,” Braschi says, perhaps admonishing one of us, who was just then considering how to take apart a three-dimensional puzzle. The marionettes are indeed quite well ordered, from largest to smallest, but their impish faces give everything a bit of a fun-house effect. It is difficult to figure out how much of this environment is serious and how much is play.

The more time we spent with Braschi in her apartment, the more obvious it became that our initial assessment rested on a profoundly misguided dichotomy. That three-dimensional puzzle was, in fact, a sculpture by Andrew Topolski of a stylized pipe bomb. The marionettes’ faces looked somewhat more malevolent after that. There is something anachronistic about the space, too. In spite of the Manhattan noise outside, the apartment is strangely quiet and calm; there are no screens of any kind. On our way out the door to lunch, Braschi recalled that she does indeed have an iPhone and wondered if she should bring it with her. She left it.

We are in this space in the first place because of a Latinx literature project that began during our graduate school years; we invited Braschi to participate in a Johns Hopkins University reading series that we founded called American Voces, which featured, perhaps to her chagrin—more on that below—Latinx authors including Junot Díaz, Cristina García, and Quiara Alegría Hudes. Braschi’s reading and the dinner that followed comprised a freewheeling, participatory, inspiring evening. Braschi herself was ostensibly the focus, but her goal seemed to be drawing the audience in, transforming the reading into a dynamic conversation peppered with extracts from her writings, engaging a chorus of voices to create a collaborative poetic experience.

Braschi’s work explores just such a multiplicity of voices. In El imperio de los sueños, a poetic trilogy published throughout the 1980s, she writes in her native Spanish as though it were a foreign, American language. Yo-Yo Boing! (1998), meanwhile, is often credited as being the first novel written in Spanglish. In her most recent work, United States of Banana (2011), the form of the novel gives way entirely to a poetic manifesto and a conversation among Giannina, Hamlet, Zarathustra, Segismundo, the Statue of Liberty, and a host of other characters. Originally from Puerto Rico, with a PhD in Golden Age Spanish literature, Braschi has received awards from the National Endowment for the Arts, Ford Foundation, and PEN American Center, among others. Her works have been adapted for the theater, photography and art books, and, most recently, to graphic novel form.

To call what follows an “interview” does not capture the form that our two-day tête-à-tête-à-tête took. Though we had prepared a rough script of questions to prompt Braschi to share her thoughts on poetry and politics, she frequently turned our inquiries back on us, resisting the hierarchy of a Q and A format by insisting on dialogue: “Well, you tell me.” “Am I right?” “Do you agree?” “What do you think?” “Please tell me because I really want to learn.” Eloquent and thoughtful, Braschi chooses her words carefully and delivers them impactfully—there…

To read the interview click here: https://muse.jhu.edu/article/697740/summary

Unknown-6.jpeg

Unknown-3.jpeg

Unknown.jpeg
Unknown-4.jpeg

Unknown-5.jpeg

New York Public Library: Hispanic Heritage Month

Unknown.png

Hispanic Heritage Month: Recommending Female Latin American Authors
Adriana Blancarte-Hayward, Outreach Manager

Latin America is known for its rich literary tradition, marked during the 1960s and 1970s by the Latin American Boom, a movement that introduced the world to such heavyweights as Julio Cortazar, Carlos Fuentes, Mario Vargas Llosa, and Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

While these male authors get a lot of time in the limelight, talented women have also captured the political and emotional landscape of Latin America in their books, from the Boom and beyond.

In honor of Hispanic Heritage Month, here is a selection of recommended books by classic and contemporary female Latin American and Latina authors for you to enjoy!

29436290.jpg

Estados Unidos de Banana / United States of Banana by Giannina Braschi
Giannina Braschi was born in San Juan, Puerto Rico, and currently lives in New York City. She writes in three languages: “Spanish, Spanglish, and English,” a medley familiar to countless Latinos in the United States.

United States of Banana is an absurdist novel that takes place at the Statue of Liberty in post-9/11 New York City. Three unlikely characters—Hamlet, Zarathrustra, and Giannina—are determined to free Puerto Rican prisoner Segismundo.

Segismundo has been imprisoned by the King of The United States of Banana, who also happens to be his father, for the crime of being born. Eventually, the king reconciles, frees his son, makes Puerto Rico the fifty-first state of the country, and grants American passports to all Latin American citizens. Unexpected power shifts ensue.

Selected Poems of Gabriela Mistral by Gabriela Mistral
The first Nobel Prize in literature awarded to a Latin American writer went to Mistral, a Chilean poet. Though famous and beloved in Latin America and Europe, Mistral’s reputation in the United States has has often been overshadowed by fellow countryman, Pablo Neruda. Translations and selections of her poems in Spanish have tended to soften her work towards the realm of tenderness and motherhood; this translation includes the strangeness, darkness, and intensity of her poems.

selected-prose-and-prose-poems.jpg

In the Time of the Butterflies / En el tiempo de las mariposas by Julia Alvarez
Julia Alvarez was born in New York City, then raised in the Dominican Republic until her family had to flee during General Rafael Leonidas Trujillo’s regime in 1960.Months after Alvarez and her family escaped the island, three sisters were found dead due to a jeep accident, according to official reports. What these official reports failed to mention was the three sisters were among the leading opponents of Trujillo’s dictatorship. They were known popularly as Las Mariposas (The Butterflies). With her imagination and heart, Julia Alvarez brings the Butterflies back to life again to expose the human cost of political repression.

Leaving Tabasco by Carmen Boullosa
Boullosa is a Mexican novelist who has written widely on issues of feminism and gender roles. In her family saga, Leaving Tabasco, Boullosa follows protagonist Delmira Ulloa through her difficult journey out of the imagined state of Tabasco, where magic is embedded in everyday life. In this town, Delmira’s grandmother floats over her bed at night, stones have been known to turn into water, and torrential downpours can be purchased at the market during the rainy season.

Her Body and Other Parties by Carmen Maria Machado
In the stories of Her Body and Other Parties, Machado unflinchingly reveal the implicit violence of inhabiting a female body. A wife refuses her husband’s wish to remove a green ribbon from her neck, a woman recounts her sexual encounters as a plague slowly consumes humanity, and a weight loss surgery results in a shadowy houseguest.A writer of Cuban descent, Machado received her MFA from the Iowa Writers Workshop. She credits Ray Bradbury, Shirley Jackson, and Gabriel Garcia Marquez as influences.

Absolute Solitude by Dulce Maria Loynaz
Until being awarded the Cervantes Prize in 1992, Cuban poet Dulce Maria Loynaz lived in relative obscurity in her homeland. Absolute Solitude presents a selection of her prose poems about nature, emotions, and love. The book includes Loynaz’s works from the 1950s through her emergence in the 1990s. During her life, Loynaz came into personal contact with writers such as Federico Garcia Lorca, Gabriela Mistral, and Alejo Carpentier.

Unknown-2.jpeg

El Infinito en la Palma de la Mano / Infinity in the Palm of her Hand by Gioconda Belli
Gioconda Belli grew up in upper-class Managua Nicaragua. In 1970, a blossoming awareness of the social inequities in Nicaragua led her to join the Sandinistas in the struggle against the Samoza dictatorship. Her book, A Country Under My Skin, chronicles her journey from society girl to paramilitary rebel. She later published El Infinito en la Palma de la Mano, a parable about Adam and Eve. This book follows the couple as they come to grips with their expulsion from paradise, discover their responsibilities and limits, and make sacrifices to survive in a world of their own making.

In The Vortex Of The Cyclone by Excilia Saldana
Saldana is an Afro-Cuban poet, translator, and professor who won the prestigious Nicholas Guillen Award for Distinction in Poetry in 1988. This first-ever bilingual anthology contains a wide-ranging selection of her work including lullabies, erotic letters, autobiographical poems, and quiet reflections on Cuba.

Cola Franzen, translator of Jorge Guillen’s Horses in the Air and Other Poems said about Saldana’s collection, “A wonderful book, strong, with enormous energy, fast-paced, truly poetic, with a varied and rich vocabulary ranging from the vernacular to the exalted. This is poetry to be said aloud, sometimes chanted, sometimes shouted, sometimes sung… a book that is both original and significant.”
Unknown-1.jpeg

Thus Were Their Faces by Silvina Ocampo
Argentine writer Ocampo has been called “one of the twentieth century’s great masters of the short story.” Italo Calvino once said about her, “I don’t know another writer who better captures the magic inside everyday rituals, the forbidden or hidden face that our mirrors don’t show us.”

Thus Were Their Faces collects a wide range of Ocampo’s best short fiction and novella-length stories from her writing life. Her spooky stories include the likes of a marble statue of a winged horse that speaks to a girl, a house of sugar that is the site of an eerie possession, children who lock their perverse mothers in a room and burn it, and a lapdog who records the dreams of an old woman.

A House of My Own by Sandra Cisneros
Rounding out the list is a more recent book from the beloved Mexican-American author of The House on Mango Street. A House Of My Own centers on Cisneros’s search for her own constructed space, drawing inspiration from the Chicago streets where she grew up to a place in Mexico where “my ancestors lived for centuries.” This compilation of nonfiction stories creates an intimate album of this literary legend’s life and career.

https://www.nypl.org/blog/2018/09/24/hispanic-heritage-month-female-latin-american-authors-recommendations

Prokrastinatorn: United States of Banana, the graphic novel

USoB_stor-945x664.jpg”Fursten drömmer att han styr / offer för sin föreställning / härskar han ifrån sin tron. / Men vår makt är bara lån / inte mer än skrift i vinden” (Ur Livet en dröm av Pedro Calderón de la Barca, 1635)

Så talar den polske prinsen Sigismund, inspärrad av sin far efter ett kort men katastrofalt inhopp på tronen och därefter itutad att han bara drömt alltihop, i den spanske 1600-talsdramatikern Pedro Calderón de la Barcas pjäs Livet en dröm (La vida es sueño). Versdramat är mest känt för sina metafysiska funderingar om tillvarons drömlika natur, men det är lika mycket en meditation över makt och ansvar och förmågan att ta kommandot över sitt eget öde i stället för att kapitulera för defaitismen och bara leva upp till omvärldens (lågt ställda) förväntningar.

Comic Book In Sweden.jpeg

Det är tidlösa teman, och sisådär 375 år senare dyker Sigismund upp på nytt, nu under sitt spanska namn Segismundo, i den puertoricanska författaren Giannina Braschis postmoderna, postkoloniala och punkpoetiska roman United States of Banana från 2011. Här framträder han som en analog för Puerto Rico, fängslad inte i ett torn utan under Frihetsgudinnans kjolar – en slående bild för ett land fast i ett politiskt limbo som lydstat under USA. Han eftersöks av Braschis litterära alter ego Giannina tillsammans med övermänniskoprästen Zarathustra och Hamlet (en annan tronarvinge med svårt dysfunktionella familjerelationer) som under letandet grälar om söndervittrande imperier, frihetens natur och poetens roll i samhället efter elfte september-attackerna. Det är en halsbrytande mix av personligt poetiskt manifest och politisk kommentar, där Braschi gisslar USA:s relationer med Latinamerika i allmänhet och Puerto Rico i synnerhet, samtidigt som hon formulerar ett stridsrop för kreativiteten i en sönderkommersialiserad konsumtionskultur.

Braschis bångstyriga prosa är färgstark nog i sig själv, men frågan är om inte United States of Banana fått sin definitiva uttolkning i den nyligen utgivna serieversionen, kongenialt illustrerad av svenska serienestorn Joakim Lindengren. Vad som på pappret ser ut som ett ganska omaka par – vad har Braschis anarkistiska agitationer gemensamt med Lindengrens nostalgiska vurm? – visar sig vara oväntat lyckat. Det är som som om Braschis kombination av rättfärdig vrede och absurdistisk fars har inspirerat Lindengren att hitta ett nytt uttrycksmedel efter den antiauktoritära rebellattityden och den skatologiska humorn från tidiga verk som som Krystmarodören och Brun utan tvål och den reaktionärt färgade referenshumorn i Kapten Stofil. Här har han bytt ut tuschet mot kolet, och de mättade, stämningsfulla blyertsteckningarna är rika på detaljer och atmosfär utan att för den skull göra avkall på hans känsla för fysisk komedi. Han har aldrig tecknat bättre. Lindengrens ambitioner sträcker sig dock längre än att bara göra en illustrerad översättning av boken, och han ger Braschis kritik av västerländsk kulturimperialism djup och vitalitet genom att frambesvärja ett inferno av popkulturella och konsthistoriska gestalter som befolkar serierutorna: Här ses David Bowie och bröderna Marx sida vid sida med Socker-Conny och Pablo Picasso, medan Han Solo, Mister T och Toshiro Mifune slåss om grindslanten. Och så vidare. Det är ett hisnande bildfyrverkeri, fullt av drastiska associationer och kombinationer. Att på det viset gestalta en tummelplats för karaktärer ur vårt kollektiva undermedvetna hade lätt kunnat bli en en ytligt tillfredsställande postmodernistisk meta-fest, men Lindengren gör ofta smarta och oväntade kopplingar som ger nya dimensioner åt Braschis teman. Det gör United States of Banana till en frustande vital läsupplevelse, rasande, rasande rolig och relevant.

copy desk .jpeg

”Det är som som om Braschis kombination av rättfärdig vrede och absurdistisk fars har inspirerat Lindengren att hitta ett nytt uttrycksmedel efter den antiauktoritära rebellattityden och den skatologiska humorn från tidiga verk som som Krystmarodören och Brun utan tvål och den reaktionärt färgade referenshumorn i Kapten Stofil. […] Han har aldrig tecknat bättre.”
”Jag var ett monument över invandringen. Nu är jag en gränspolis” beklagar sig Frihetsgudinnan, en gåva från Frankrike för att fira hundraårsminnet av USA:s självständighet. ”De förvandlade mig till frihetens mausoleum”, tillägger hon senare. United States of Banana är – bland mycket annat – en betraktelse över hur ideal eroderar, förvrängs och förkalkas och blir byggstenar i imperiebyggen. Braschi ställer frihet mot ”frihet”; otyglad kreativitet kontra vackra men tomma koncept som kan paketeras, varumärkesskyddas och marknadsföras globalt. Inte konstigt att statyn ser sin spegelbild förvrängas till Munchs Skriet i Coca Cola-flaskans välvda yta. Man kan förtvivla för mindre. Konsumtionssamhället drar sig inte ens för att slå mynt av nationella trauman: I ett iskallt visuellt skämt förvandlar Lindengren 7-Eleven till 9-Eleven för att visa hur WTC-attacken tagit plats i den nationella mytbildningen. När Braschi beklagar sig över hur folket hålls liknöjt och jämnmodigt med ett bombardemang av massmediala sedativ sätter Lindengren Alex från A Clockwork Orange bakom taxiratten, med ögonen uppspärrade av metallklämmor, den rebelliska ådran stävjad.

Frihetsgudinnan är inte helt utan skuld. Hennes sympatier skiftar (hon bärs upp av ”en ondskans axel” som gör skillnad på folk, raser och kön, förklarar Giannina). Ibland blir hon ställföreträdande språkrör för amerikansk ideologi. ”Hur hindrade jag din själsliga utveckling?” frågar hon Giannina, som svarar: ”Genom att få mig att längta efter det jag inte vill ha eller behöver”. Tydligare än så kan knappast kapitalismens idéer formuleras. Den intalar oss att själslig utveckling kommer ur materiell tillväxt. Giannina hävdar envist motsatsen. Konsumtionshysterin kan även den bli en sorts fångenskap. Frihet är också att vara fri från begär.

Men alla imperier krackelerar, förr eller senare. ”Den anglosaxiska dominansen är dömd” säger statyn uppgivet, och serien är full av olycksbådande omen som styrker utlåtandet. Joakim Lindengren tecknar Barack Obama som moppar ett golv utan att ta notis om det Niagarafall som dränker rummet i vatten. Han drar ett inspirerat likhetstecken mellan Donald ”kvack kvack” Duck och Donald ”tweet tweet” Trump, båda kverulanta typer med bristande impulskontroll och sällsynt talang för självsabotage. Onkel Sam förvandlas till Batman-skurken Two-Face, en bipolär lögnare. ”Det är något ruttet i Amerika”, som Hamlet skulle ha uttryckt det. Hans närvaro i dramat förebådar för övrigt inga lyckliga slut.
”Han drar ett inspirerat likhetstecken mellan Donald ”kvack kvack” Duck och Donald ”tweet tweet” Trump, båda kverulanta typer med bristande impulskontroll och sällsynt talang för självsabotage.”

Det är inte bara i toppen som det är skakigt. Under frihetsgudinnans kjolar sjuder missnöjet, bland de brokiga skaror som vistas bland Escher-lika labyrinter och scenografier från Busby Berkeley-dansnummer. (Det finns ingen anledning att räkna upp alla Lindengrens referenser här, men att se pinup-ikonen Bettie Page dela ruta med både en Tom of Finland-hunk och den svenska porrparodi-agenten James Fjong beredde åtminstone den här recensenten lite extra glädje.) Här sitter Segismundo, prins av Polen och alter ego för Puerto Rico, som misströstar över sin möjlighet att göra fria val. Puerto Rico slits i dag mellan fraktioner som antingen vill förbli amerikanskt territorium, fullvärdig 51:a stat i USA eller självständig nation. Men för Segismundo är detta inte mycket till val: Slidder, slidder-sladder och sladder, suckar han medan det inrikespolitiska käbblet tar fysisk form som Knatte, Fnatte och Tjatte som huvudlöst springer omkring på hans cellgolv. Han vägrar också vara projektionsyta för andras drömmar: Zarathustra ser en överman, Giannina en frihetsslav och hetsporren Hamlet en erövrare. Själv drömmer han om upplösta gränser, mellan nationer, raser och kön.

Segismundos lojalitet sätts på prov i bokens avslutande tredjedel, där ett bröllop blir spelplatsen för en slutgiltig uppgörelse. Fadern Basilio ska gifta om sig med Hamlets mor Gertrud och erbjuder Segismundo att göra Puerto Rico till fullvärdig stat som gåva. Här börjar de litterära allusionerna dessvärre att svaja. Giftermålet är menat som en metaforisk allians mellan Sydamerika och Nordamerika, men exakt vad Gertrud har med amerikansk imperialism att göra blir aldrig riktigt klarlagt – i synnerhet som Lindengren tecknar henne med en Wagnerskt teutonisk majestät. Mest av allt verkar det vara för att ro hem analogierna till Hamlet, men det ringer lite falskt. Men även om den yttre handlingen blir luddig i kanterna så tappar aldrig systemkritiken och frihetsbudskapet udden. Boken avslutas med en triumfatorisk trotshandling, en personlig självständighetsförklaring som Lindengren badar i hoppingivande gryningsljus. Det är svårt att ha några invändningar mot den bilden. För att vara tecknad i svartvitt är United States of Banana ett synnerligen färgstarkt försvarstal.

https://www.prokrastinatorn.se/joakim-lindengren-united-states-of-banana/

A New Play! United States of Banana

Director Juan Pablo Felix brings to the stage for the first time “United States of Banana,” by Giannina Braschi on the post-911 American psyche around the politics of empire and independence.  The New York City debut takes place June 17th thru June 20th at The Schapiro Theatre at Columbia University.

Hamlet and Zarathustra join Giannina on a quest to liberate the Puerto Rican prisoner Segismundo from the dungeon of the Statue of Liberty, where he has been imprisoned by his father, the King of the United States of Banana, for more than 100 years for the crime of being born. The work tackles inter-American politics of empire and independence, the post-9/11 psyche, and the immigrant’s experience of marginality and liberation. The play depicts New York City as “the Darwinist capital of the Capitalist word” and U.S. imperialism as doomed as “a chicken with its head cut”. All Latin Americans are granted American passports, Puerto Rico is declared the 51st state, and then comes a revolution…

Adapted for the stage by Juan Pablo Felix and Giannina Braschi, author of United States of Banana, the Spanglish classic Yo-Yo Boing! and the postmodern epic Empire of Dreams.

JUAN PABLO FÉLIX is a theater director, filmmaker, and acting coach from Bogotá, Colombia. He was awarded a Fulbright Scholarship and enrolled in the MFA Theater Directing Program at Columbia University School of the Arts. He has staged “Uncle Vanya”, “Two Sisters” and his own musical fairy tale “The Amazing Story of El Hombre Caimán!” He served as casting director for the Oscar-nominated film “Maria Full of Grace” and directs theater workshops at Estudio Babel in Colombia and EICTV in Cuba.

  • Wednesday June 17th, 2015 7:30 pm
  • Thursday June 18th, 2015 7:30 pm
  • Friday June 19th, 2015 7:30 pm
  • Saturday June 20th, 2015 7:30 pm

For more information contact: gracedenoncourt@gmail.com

Schapiro Theater, 605 West 115th Street, NY, NY 10027

tel: (212) 854-3408

http://columbiastages.org/index.html

American Voces @ John Hopkins

Caras2BRASCHI2

JH

Giannina Braschi
September 26, 2013, 5:15pm
American Voces Authors Series
Department of German and Romance Languages and Literatures
The Johns Hopkins University
3400 N. Charles St.
Baltimore, MD 21218

For more details contact: americanvoces.jhu@gmail.com

http://repeatingislands.com/2013/08/18/hispanic-writers-series-american-voces-presents-giannina-braschi-junot-diaz-and-cristina-garcia/

http://hub.jhu.edu/2013/04/05/junot-diaz-american-voces

“Banks are the temples of America. This is a holy war. Our economy is our religion.” Giannina Braschi.

http://www.amazon.com/Book-Business-Quotations-The-Economist/dp/111818534X

John Wiley & Sons, Inc. = The Economist Book of Business Quotations, edited by Bill Ridgers, compiles the wit and wisdom of great thinkers such as Cicero, Confucius, and Aristotle to cartoon characters such as Homer Simpson and Dilbert. This collection features brilliant, zany, serious and pithy quotes on money, management, business, gambling, banking, economics, debt, capitalism, jobs, and wealth from a colorful cast of characters in politics, business, music, arts, sports, literature, philosophy and entertainment, including Benjamin Franklin, Vaclav Havel, Winston Churchill, Warren Buffet,  Lloyd Blankfein, John Cleese, Samuel Beckett, Henry Miller, Giannina Braschi, Albert Einstein, Arthur Miller, Brian Eno, Vince Lombardi, Jay Leno, Bob Dylan, PT Barnum, Oscar Wilde, and Vincent Van Gogh. Editor Bill Ridgers is a business writer and business education editor at The Economist.

************************************************************************************

The quote “BANKS ARE THE TEMPLES OF AMERICA. THIS IS A HOLY WAR. OUR ECONOMY IS OUR RELIGION” comes from the following scene in United States of Banana by Giannina Braschi

“I saw the hand of man holding the hand of woman. They were running to escape the inferno—and just when the man thought he had saved the woman—a chunk of ceiling fell—and what he had in his hand—was just her hand—dismembered from her body. Now we no longer have the Renaissance concept of the Creation of Man—those two hands reaching out to each other on the Sistine Chapel—the hand of God and the hand of man—their fingers almost touching—in unity of body and soul. What we have here is a war—the war of matter and spirit. In the classical era, spirit was in harmony with matter. Matter used to condense spirit. What was unseen—the ghost of Hamlet’s father—was seen—in the conscience of the king. The spirit was trapped in the matter of theater. The theater made the unseen, seen. In the Romantic era, spirit overwhelms matter. The glass of champagne can’t contain the bubbles. But never in the history of humanity has spirit been at war with matter. And that is what we have today. The war of banks and religion. It’s what I wrote in Prayers of the Dawn, that in New York City, banks tower over cathedrals. Banks are the temples of America. This is a holy war. Our economy is our religion. When I came back to midtown a week after the attack—I mourned—but not in a personal way—it was a cosmic mourning—something that I could not specify because I didn’t know any of the dead. I felt grief without knowing its origin. Maybe it was the grief of being an immigrant and of not having roots. Not being able to participate in the whole affair as a family member but as a foreigner, as a stranger—estranged in myself and confused—I saw the windows of Bergdorf and Saks—what a theater of the unexpected—my mother would have cried—there were only black curtains, black drapes—showing the mourning of the stores—no mannequins, just veils—black veils. When the mannequins appeared again weeks later—none of them had blond hair. I don’t know if it was because of the mourning rituals or whether the mannequins were afraid to be blond—targets of terrorists. Even they didn’t want to look American. They were out of fashion after the TwinTowers fell. To the point, that even though I had just dyed my hair blond because I was writing Hamlet and Hamlet is blond, I went back to my coiffeur immediately and told him—dye my hair black. It was a matter of life and death, why look like an American. When naturally I look like an Arab and walk like an Egyptian.”

http://search.yahoo.com/search?ei=utf-8&fr=slv8-offrhap&p=bangles%20walk%20like%20an%20egyptian&type=

http://www.chomsky.info/http://www.chomsky.info/articles/20120606.htmhttp://www.amazon.com/United-States-Banana-Giannina-Braschi/dp/1611090679/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1361848031&sr=1-1

http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/

http://project2996.wordpress.com/

http://septembereleventh.wordpress.com/

http://truthandshadows.wordpress.com/

quotesforbusiness.blogspot.com/

http://contentmarketinginstitute.com/2008/06/113-expert-and/

http://www.allthingscounterterrorism.com/

http://leaksource.wordpress.com/2013/01/24/cia-worlds-biggest-terrorist-organization/

http://extremeprejudiceusa.wordpress.com/