{"product_id":"the-brush-isbn-9781953861863","title":"The Brush","description":"\u003cb\u003eA wise, visionary debut on ecological and human resistance, perfect for readers of Joy Harjo and Tracy K. Smith, and fans of the earth-body artwork of Ana Mendieta\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Brush \u003c\/i\u003eis an incantatory, fearless exploration of collective trauma – and its horrific relevance in today’s Colombia, where mass killings continue. Told from the voices Pablo, Ester, and the Brush itself, Hernández-Pachón’s poem is an astounding response to a traumatic event in recent Colombian history: the massacre in the village of El Salado between February 16 and 21, 2000. Paramilitary forces tortured and killed sixty people, interspersing their devastating violence with music in the town square.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePablo Rodríguez steps thirteen paces out into the night and buries a wooden box. Its contents: a chain, a medallion, a few overexposed photographs, and finally, a deed. He burrows into the ground without knowing quite why, but with the certainty of a heavy change pressing through the air, of fear settling “like a cat in his throat.” Meanwhile, his wife Ester – a sharpshooter and keeper of all village secrets – slips into her fifth dream of the night. As Ester tosses and Pablo pats his fresh mound of earth, another character emerges in Eliana Hernández-Pachón’s vivid and prophetic triptych.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Brush\u003c\/i\u003e is a tangled grove, a thicket of vines, an orchid pummeled with rain. It is also an extraordinary depiction of ecological resistance, of the natural world that both endures human cruelty and lives on in spite of it.\"In Myers’s limpid translation, \u003ci\u003eThe Brush\u003c\/i\u003e feels like a fresh discovery thanks to its narrative range, which insists on exploring both an intimate relationship that’s wrenched apart and the much larger ecosystem in which the separation occurs. Hernández-Pachón, the youngest winner of Colombia’s national poetry prize, captures a community ruptured by violence, exemplified by two lovers caught in its churn.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Atlantic'\u003c\/i\u003es Ten Best Books of the Year\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The narrative unfolds at a slant via three acts . . . in a tone that is at once factual and filled with palpable dread . . . For a poet writing about a catastrophe, using artifice to generate pathos can be difficult, as the reader knows that the events in the book are true. Hernández-Pachón resolves this by animating the forest, who is a compassionate observer, with a distinct persona and all the eccentricities of being a speaking-forest. 'During the concert, \/ rain is generality. \/ Every \u003ci\u003eI\u003c\/i\u003e and every \u003ci\u003emine\u003c\/i\u003e \/ is open sky or moss.'\" \u003cb\u003e–– Janani Ambikapathi, \u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eHarriet Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Powerful and devastating . . . Every word makes a massive impact in this slim, arresting poem.\"\u003ci\u003e – Emily Tarr, \u003ci\u003eSouthern Bookseller Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This poignant account of the tragedy still resonates powerfully today, more than two decades after it occurred. ‘When what happened happened and they made us watch, it was as if Earth revolved around our eyes, as if space opened up between our eyes, as if lava flow erupted from within.’ Breathtaking.” \u003cb\u003e— Leo Boix, Morning Star\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Flowers, bleeding bodies, and all that blooms from itself—we need poetry that sends us directly into this blossoming in all its agony, horror, and beauty. Eliana Hernández-Pachón has given us this with \u003ci\u003eThe Brush\u003c\/i\u003e, a book I want everyone I know to know about.” \u003cb\u003e— CAConrad, author of \u003ci\u003eListen to the Golden Boomerang Return\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eYou Don’t Have What It Takes to Be My Nemesis\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“‘I want to tell you’ says an unnamed woman traveling with Ester in \u003ci\u003eThe Brush\u003c\/i\u003e, but the desire to name horror struggles against the need to survive it. Hernández-Pachón’s words at turns circle, allude, describe and pulse with the events and legacy of the massacre at El Salado. This book is stunning, painful, beautiful, horrible, human and full of abundant, rich, throbbing language.” \u003cb\u003e— Jessica Rankin\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A disconcerting calmness rests over this book-length sequence of poems that, in a mere 57 pages, manages to capture the contradictions and harmonies that arise in response to acts of extreme violence. That calmness serves to unsettle the reader and honour the survivors, while placing this event within a wider ecosystem and granting a voice to nature, the one force, perhaps, that can truly offer both understanding and healing.\" \u003cb\u003e–– Joseph Shreiber, \u003ci\u003eRough Ghosts\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"There is something that literature can do and do very well, and that is act as witness, offering a way to document and acknowledge, to process, and \u003ci\u003eThe Brush\u003c\/i\u003e shines a spotlight on Colombian history perhaps little known across North America, writing on what can’t be imagined, but an event that leaves its scar across not only history, but on the lives of those that remain . . . This is a powerful and evocative collection, devastating for its subtlety, and composed with enormous care and unflinching gaze.\" \u003cb\u003e–– Rob McLennan\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"What emerges in \u003ci\u003eThe Brush\u003c\/i\u003e . . . is instruction in the practice of bearing witness, of honoring the dead. Rather than the clinical language of the Investigators, the Brush-as-witness offers: 'For those who came back: \/ a handful of totumo blossoms, piñuelas with their tender pulp, their starry white tomentum.'\"\u003cb\u003e–– Renee Hudson, \u003ci\u003eLos Angeles Review of Books\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"\u003ci\u003eThe Brush\u003c\/i\u003e is a single narrative in three sections of poetry, each with a different point of view: Pablo, Ester, and The Brush. As a whole, the triptych creates a realm that simultaneously feels like fairy tale and current events—in the sense that horror abides in each. That the forest speaks adds wonder and fever. The quiet tone makes the Colombian massacre even more terrifying.\"\u003cbr\u003e—\u003cb\u003eKimiko Hahn, \u003ci\u003eWorld Literature Today\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eEliana Hernández-Pachón\u003c\/b\u003e received her BA in Anthropology from Universidad de los Andes in Bogotá, Colombia. Her research interests include contemporary Latin American literature and visual art, gender studies, and environmental humanities. She received an MFA in Creative Writing from New York University. \u003ci\u003eThe Brush\u003c\/i\u003e, her polyphonic account of the El Salado massacre in Colombia, received the Colombia National Poetry Prize in 2020.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eRobin Myers \u003c\/b\u003eis a Mexico City–based poet and translator. Her latest book-length translations include \u003ci\u003eBariloche\u003c\/i\u003e by Andrés Neuman (2023), \u003ci\u003eThe Book of Explanations\u003c\/i\u003e by Tedi López Mills (2022), and \u003ci\u003eCopy \u003c\/i\u003eby Dolores Dorantes (2022). A 2023 NEA Translation Fellow, Robin’s collections of poetry have been published bilingually in Mexico, Argentina, Chile and Spain.","brand":"Archipelago","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46299731853541,"sku":"NP9781953861863","price":17.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781953861863.jpg?v=1767738552","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/the-brush-isbn-9781953861863","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}