Mirar con las palabras, con los nervios, los latidos, contemplar el cielo con el asombro del verso contenido, encender la hierba y los insectos, saber del aroma y del recuerdo. Ventanas ofrece una contemplación al paisaje y también a las emociones, a los deseos y la inquietud existencial. Gracias a los cristales de esta poesía podemos asumir el instante de la germinación, el trasunto de las nubes pensativas o sentir la vibración de las moléculas, las células en su afán metafísico de construir.

Pero Ventanas va más allá del asombro de la observación es una apuesta por el lenguaje y el verso dilatado, por los senderos de la métrica y los espacios de la hoja para labrar una sombra, dibujar un astro o iluminar el acto amoroso, los poemas nos permiten asomarnos a la vida retratada y a la reflexión del tiempo disfrazado de lluvia, de flores indolentes, de tersura en el campo de voces, árboles y sonidos.

Why Fish Don't Exist: A Story of Loss, Love, and the Hidden Order of Life is a dark and astonishing tale of love, chaos, scientific obsession, and—possibly—even murder, woven together in a wondrous debut by NPR reporter Lulu Miller.

David Starr Jordan, a taxonomist driven to bring order to the natural world, was on the verge of discovering nearly a fifth of the fish known to humans in his day. However, the universe seemed determined to challenge him, as his specimen collections were destroyed by a series of calamities, culminating in the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. His life's work in ruins, Jordan stood amidst the wreckage and, spotting the first fish he recognized, began the arduous task of rebuilding his collection. This time, he introduced an innovation to protect his work from chaos.

Lulu Miller's encounter with Jordan's story led her to question her own understanding of history, morality, and the world beneath her feet. Why Fish Don't Exist is not only a biography and a memoir but also a scientific adventure that reads like a fable, offering an inspiring reflection on how to persevere in a world where chaos always seems to prevail.

Centuries after the last humans left Earth, the Exodus Fleet is a living relic, a place many are from but few outsiders have seen. Humanity has finally been accepted into the galactic community, but while this has opened doors for many, those who have not yet left for alien cities fear that their carefully cultivated way of life is under threat.

Tessa chose to stay home when her brother Ashby left for the stars, but has to question that decision when her position in the Fleet is threatened. Kip, a reluctant young apprentice, itches for change but doesn't know where to find it. Sawyer, a lost and lonely newcomer, is just looking for a place to belong. When a disaster rocks this already fragile community, those Exodans who still call the Fleet their home can no longer avoid the inescapable question: What is the purpose of a ship that has reached its destination?

The Unbearable Lightness of Being is a profound narrative that explores the story of a young woman deeply in love with a man who is caught in a battle between his love for her and his incorrigible womanizing habits. Another strand of the story involves one of his mistresses and her modestly faithful lover. This compelling novel skillfully weaves together geographically distant locales, ingenious and playful musings, and a diverse array of styles, asserting its place as a significant accomplishment by one of the world's truly exceptional writers.

Revelación literaria en los años cincuenta, Kenzaburo Oé quedó consagrado como el mejor novelista japonés de la generación posterior a Yukio Mishima desde los años sesenta y se ha afirmado que recuerda a Dante, William Blake y Malcom Lowry.

"Una cuestión personal", una de sus mejores y más crueles novelas, animada de una extraña violencia interior, cuenta la terrible odisea de Bird, un joven profesor de inglés abrumado por una cenagosa existencia cotidiana en el Japón contemporáneo. Su anhelo secreto es redimirse a través de un mítico viaje por África, donde, según cree, su vida renacerá plena de sentido. Pero tales proyectos sufren un vuelco de ciento ochenta grados: su esposa da a luz un monstruoso bebé, condenado a una muerte inminente o, en el mejor de los casos, a una vida de vegetal. Este hecho convulsiona el lánguido e indolente existir de Bird y, durante tres días y tres noches, se arrastra por un implacable recorrido hacia lo más profundo de su abismo interior. Descenso a los infiernos en el que le acompañará Himiko, una vieja compañera de estudios. Bird buscará refugio en el alcohol, en los brazos de Himiko y, principalmente, en su propia vergüenza y humillación: ¿debe aceptar la fatalidad, cargar para siempre con un hijo anormal y renunciar a sus planes de una vida mejor o, por el contrario, debe desembarazarse del bebé provocando un desenlace fatal?

Hopscotch is a novel by Julio Cortazar, translated by Gregory Rabassa, that revolutionized the narrative structure with its non-linear approach. The story follows Horacio Oliveira, an Argentinian writer living in Paris with his mistress, La Maga, amid a group of bohemian friends known as "the Club." After a series of personal tragedies, Oliveira returns to Buenos Aires, where his life takes a series of unexpected turns as he takes on various odd jobs.

The novel is famous for its unique structure, allowing readers to navigate through its chapters in a non-conventional order. This innovative layout mirrors the book’s thematic exploration of life's complexity and the search for meaning. Cortazar drew inspiration from a variety of sources, including Henry Miller's quest for truth, Daisetz Teitaro Suzuki's Zen Buddhism teachings, and the aesthetics of Modernist writers like Joyce. Additionally, the novel reflects influences from Surrealism, the French New Novel, jazz music, and New Wave Cinema.

Gregory Rabassa's translation of Hopscotch won the National Book Award in 1966, marking a significant moment for the recognition of translation in literature. Cortazar's approval of Rabassa's work led to the translator's collaboration with Gabriel García Márquez on One Hundred Years of Solitude, further cementing Rabassa's reputation as a master translator.