Books
Francisco Goldman

Say Her Name

Celebrated novelist Francisco Goldman married a beautiful young writer named Aura Estrada in a romantic Mexican hacienda in the summer 2005. The month before their second anniversary, during a long-awaited holiday, Aura broke her neck while body surfing.

Francisco, blamed for Aura's death by her family and blaming himself, wanted to die, too.

But instead he wrote Say Her Name, a novel chronicling his great love and unspeakable loss, tracking the stages of grief when pure love gives way to bottomless pain.

Suddenly a widower, Goldman collects everything he can about his wife, hungry to keep Aura alive with every memory. From her childhood and university days in Mexico City with her fiercely devoted mother to her studies at Columbia University, through their newlywed years in New York City and travels to Mexico and Europe-and always through the prism of her gifted writings-Goldman seeks her essence and grieves her loss. Humor leavens the pain as he lives through the madness of utter grief and creates a living portrait of a love as joyous and playful as it is deep and profound.

Say Her Name is a love story, a bold inquiry into destiny and accountability, and a tribute to Aura-who she was and who she would have been.
429 printed pages
Copyright owner
Bookwire
Original publication
2011
Publication year
2011
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Quotes

  • Fernanda Monsalvo Basalduahas quoted2 years ago
    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 quoted2 years ago
    each of us filling with a sense of mystical wonder and loneliness that merged into one mystical wonder and loneliness together
  • mellamogisellehas quoted2 years ago
    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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