Nada más

A woman dictates a few sentences a day throughout her last year of life. They are addressed to her lover, who not only types them but is also the object of the tumultuous passions that flow from them. That woman is Marguerite Duras, one of the greatest French writers of all time, who passes away just three days after the last entry in this book. If all her stories revolve around a loss, in Nada más Duras she narrates the definitive loss: the loss of her own voice. Nothing else is a heartrending cry, a fervent and spiteful love letter at the same time, an existential meditation and a confidence in which we find reminiscences and glimpses of her life and work, which make it a text as hermetic as it is fascinating. . By dint of pronouncing final words, Duras manages to transform a possible literary testament into a testimony of life, into an affirmation that any epilogue is also a song of welcome, that all posterity is reconciled, at the last minute, with the singularities of a life.