Francisco Goldman

Say Her Name

The Pulitzer Prize–finalist’s intimate autobiographical novel of a marriage cut tragically short is “a beautiful love story, and an extraordinary story of loss” (Colm Tóibín).
In 2005, celebrated novelist Francisco Goldman married Aura Estrada. The two were deeply in love, and Aura was a gifted young writer on the cusp of her own brilliant career. But while on vacation only a month before their second anniversary, Aura died in a tragic accident. In Say Her Name, Goldman pours his feelings of love and unspeakable grief into a fictionalized account of their brief time together.
Desperate to keep Aura alive in his memory, Goldman collects everything he can about her, delving deeply into the writings she left behind. From her childhood and university days in Mexico City to her studies at Columbia University, through the couple’s time in New York City and travels to Europe, Goldman composes a vivid and multifaceted portrait.
Filled with “propulsive drama” (The Boston Globe), Say Her Name is a tribute to who Aura Estrada was and who she would’ve been, that “will also transport you into the most primal joy in the human repertoire—the joy of loving—and reveal it with aching vibrancy” (San Francisco Chronicle).
427 printed pages
Original publication
Publication year
Have you already read it? How did you like it?


  • Fernanda Monsalvo Basalduahas quotedlast year
    Why is Daddy so afraid to die? and my mother said quietly, Who knows, that’s just the way your father is. You know, he’s always been a hypochondriac. Was a terror of death, I wondered, a form of hypochondria?
  • Fernanda Monsalvo Basalduahas quotedlast year
    each of us filling with a sense of mystical wonder and loneliness that merged into one mystical wonder and loneliness together
  • Giselle González Camachohas quotedlast year
    It didn’t bother me that she liked celebrity and fashion Web sites. Though that is exactly what would have bugged her, catching this glimpse of herself through my eyes, me supposedly loving it that my brainy superliterary grad student young wife could have the same enjoyments as any frivolous housewifey girl who never read anything deeper than People. That I could love that, that I presumably found that cute and sexy, that she could satisfy that cursi macho voyeurism—how embarrassing!

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