Bøker av Beatriz Copello

Saturday. Sunny. Summer. Sunny Saturday summer. Perhaps the last hot days of the season. It was a long wait for today after a shit week at school.Breakfast. A towel, a book, sun glasses and my iPod. Deception and lies. "To the beach with my friends," I have no friends. They wouldn't understand me, I'm different.The sun still burns, I feel an intense heat on my face. The end of March in Sydney, Coogee. I'm lucky to live so close to the women's pool, just a short walk.My heart is racing, Oh, I hope so much that she is there. I lie on the rocks. Not many women in the pool today, too early in the morning or shopping. I know most of the regulars. She's one of them. I sit comfortably on the same rock I have sat on every weekend. She'll sit on the grass verge. She'll be here shortly. I put my earphones on and listen to Sinead O'Connor. I'll be seventeen next week.

'Do not expect gentle rambles through the countryside. Beatriz Copello takes us on rough treks - through broken worlds, past "sleepwalkers trained to kill", "banquets of horror / tablecloth tinted in blood", "dolphins wrapped in plastic bags", "bats without trees" - challenging us to read briskly, urgently and breathe often. We are rewarded with times of love and with exquisite encounters with the numinous; we are offered tender hope. There are deep troughs and dark tunnels to navigate but with this highly acclaimed wordsmith we are drawn on by what the French philosopher Simone Weil calls "this something" In safe hands, we witness hollowness and hypocrisy and find our hunger is sated with the better angels of raw honesty. For us pilgrims, this is a searing and rewarding read.' - Colleen Keating'Copello wears her heart, her mind, her eyes plus anger & love on her sleeve. All in or nothing!' - Les Wicks'Beatriz Copello offers bold and inquisitive poems for our turbulent times. She speaks of the how, the why and the if of our relationship with our precious, corrupted planet. Circling through time and memory to have us protected by the "purple shawl" of a wisteria, moved by "the stories of the ancient past" and enriched by her sharp way of unravelling womanhood.' - Angela Costi

'No Salami Fairy Bread is an invitation to open each page of a new life, full of uncertainty and tenacity due to her family's decision to leave Argentina. Copello writes from her eyes and heart as an immigrant woman who came to live in Australia, "Free land for those who are willing to work it'. Reading her poems, the strong voice of a young woman appears, carrying suitcases (maletas) full of dreams, of women's struggles for liberation, of lovers, of family, of education. "Let's take a photo, for posterity", said the husband. "She looks beyond the camera, beyond the husband, / Beyond the present to a time / when dreams come true."' - Juan Garrido Salgado, poet'No Salami Fairy Bread is a moving series of poems that chart Beatriz Copello's migration from Argentina to Australia and subsequent coming of age as a young wife, mother and modern woman. The book is a powerful story of loss and discovery, with a strong narrative arc that mingles with rich nostalgia. The book covers, in a way that only verse can, the complex mixture of fear and excitement, disappointment, aspiration, perseverance, resignation, awakening and, above all, transformation in the Sydney of the seventies. Beatriz Copello draws together her skills as a psychologist and poet, and the weight of her lived experience, to tell a story that is equal parts humour, pain and joy which is both poignant and powerful.' - Magdalena Ball, Compulsive Reader'I am hooked! There are so many "hooks" for me in Beatriz Copello's work that I truly do not know where to begin. I thought I was reading a book of poems. And it is. But then I found myself in the middle of a novel, a page-turner which I just couldn't put down! For in No Salami Fairy Bread, the poet spins a spellbinding yarn. She does it in a style which is direct, oscillating between the refreshingly humorous and ironic, and the heart-rending - often in the same poem. The intensity can be unsettling at times. But even in such situations, the poet does not let you fall, rather beautifully balancing you by her utmost integrity, hued by pinches of humour - even in dark situations. I dare you pick this volume up and put it down before its last reflective poem.' - Daniel Lonita, poet

"e;The extraordinary poems in Witches, Women and Words have our hearts beating with rage. This powerfully evocative collection speaks frankly of the twists and turns, pains, despair and hopes of the woman, the human, the poet, the abused earth, her trees and seas and biodiversity. In a world where 'soldiers march blindfolded and mute' and of 'wounds that never heal'. It takes us on a journey: a witch's broom, protection of a coven, and a cauldron of life's struggles, to become free to allow the poem of woman to be created: 'the poem born / the poet / a god'. She will have a voice, choose her destiny. You will be spellbound as you navigate these sensuous and imaginative poems where 'the persistent Southerly / is a foreigner on this piece of soil' and 'senses are like a tree in winter'. This is not meant to be a peaceful read. This powerful collection of poetry by Beatriz Copello disturbs like her muse Neruda, with 'words of fire, steel and hope', even as she writes, 'hope is hidden like a miser hides his riches'."e; - Colleen Keating"e;Can we conjure a better world with the magic of words? Can women, in particular, escape the cruel prison of history? Beatriz Copello believes so. Though she is 'scared she learns to walk again' and 'lets her blood run wild' in Witches, Women and Words. Even as the horrors of history reassert themselves, even when she is blindsided by the familiarity of death and haunted by lingering wounds in an atmosphere heavy with unspoken guilt, she 'chooses life'. With wit, passion and grace, and above all infinite empathy for the pains we all share, she chooses it for all of us."e; - Richard James Allen"e;Beatriz Copello's words take us on a profound journey through the perilous life we all find ourselves leading, where hope is hidden and ancestral anguish drives us to seek meaning and hope."e; - Anne Summers