Lidia Yuknavitch

Anno 2049. Il riscaldamento globale e le guerre hanno ridotto la Terra a un cumulo di macerie inabitabili. Chi ha potuto permetterselo è scappato su una stazione orbitale diventata l’enclave di ricchi privilegiati su cui governa un dittatore ancora più ricco e privilegiato. I pochi resistenti si tramandano la leggenda di una giovane donna, forse una pazza, forse una terrorista, forse una santa, che potrebbe salvarli. Ma Joan è morta: è stata giustiziata anni fa. O così si dice… In questi tempi oscuri sembra che l’unico realismo possibile sia la distopia. Pochi altri libri sono stati accolti come il romanzo di Lidia Yuknavitch al suo apparire: Il libro di Joan è stato salutato come la più precisa e cruda cronaca dell’oggi, quasi che solo un racconto di fantascienza (ma di una fantascienza completamente nuova, visionaria e «inaudita») potesse rendere conto di un presente allucinato e violento. Un potere maschile opprimente e violento che dispone del corpo delle donne come una risorsa da prosciugare; le diseguaglianze economiche che rendono il pianeta inabitabile tanto quanto il cambiamento climatico provocato da quelle stesse logiche inique; il discorso politico che fomenta il risentimento attraverso lo spauracchio dell’emergenza continua; la nostalgia di un passato immaginario come unica, posticcia, via di fuga: di tutto questo la Yuknavitch fa il materiale grezzo di un racconto ustionante, un viaggio fantastico tanto estremo quanto emozionante. Fantascienza classica e femminismo radicale, Margaret Atwood e Kathy Acker, «new weird» e Donald Trump. La cronaca del domani è stata raccontata molte volte: ma mai cosí.

Il nuoto, il corpo che si perde e si ritrova nell’acqua, e la letteratura, il desiderio di scrivere senza compromessi, sono le uniche due certezze di Lidia. “La cronologia dell’acqua” è così la storia di una vita che “non segue alcun ordine. Gli avvenimenti non rispondono al rapporto di causa ed effetto come vorremmo. È tutta una serie di frammenti e ripetizioni e trame,” perché “questo condividono il linguaggio e l’acqua”. Tutto scorre, nelle parole come nelle corsie di una piscina, in questo romanzo che rinnova radicalmente la tradizione del memoir, raccontando senza ipocrisie il genere, la sessualità, l’abuso, l’elaborazione del lutto, il superamento della sofferenza. Lidia cresce con un padre violento e una madre incapace di proteggerla, in una famiglia che la condizionerà anche quando, proprio grazie a una borsa di studio per il nuoto, riuscirà ad allontanarsi. Colpita da una perdita straziante, si trova a fare i conti con un dolore estremo: Lidia reagisce, sbaglia, cerca nell’alcol e nel sesso una via di fuga, tocca il fondo, reagisce ancora, riprende a nuotare. Dentro la muove un desiderio di vita e di creazione – e attraverso incontri decisivi con autori come Ken Kesey e Kathy Acker prende forma il suo cammino di scrittrice. Il viaggio che Lidia affronta, e nel quale trascina con passione e levità struggente il lettore, è un viaggio di dipendenza e autodistruzione, e poi di sopravvivenza. Un viaggio che trova una conciliazione finale in un amore sincero, in un figlio che nuota felice anche se malissimo, e in un libro, questo, che testimonia una nuova profonda consapevolezza di sé nel proprio mondo.

The frank and revealing memoir of a writer who draws from her own creativity to heal."I believe our bodies are carriers of experience," Lidia Yuknavitch writes in her provocative memoir Reading the Waves. "I mean to ask if there is a way to read my own past differently, using what I have learned from how stories repeat and reverberate and release us from the tyranny of our mistakes, our traumas, and our confusions."Drawing on her background -- her father's abuse, her complicated dynamic with her disabled mother, the death of her child, her sexual relationships with men and women -- and her creative life as an author and teacher, Yuknavitch has come to understand that by using the power of literature and storytelling to reframe her memories, she can loosen the bonds that have enslaved her emotional growth. Armed with this insight, she allows herself to look with the eye of an artist at the wounds she suffered and come to understand the transformational power this has to restore her soul. By turns candid and lyrical, stoic and forgiving, blunt and evocative, Reading the Waves reframes memory to show how crucial this process  can be to gaining a deeper understanding of ourselves.

In the near future, world wars have transformed the earth into a battleground. Fleeing the unending violence and the planet’s now-radioactive surface, humans have regrouped to a mysterious platform known as CIEL, hovering over their erstwhile home. The changed world has turned evolution on its head: the surviving humans have become sexless, hairless pale-white creatures floating in isolation, inscribing stories upon their skin. Out of the ranks of the endless wars rises Jean de Men, a charismatic and bloodthirsty cult leader who turns CIEL into a quasi-corporate police state. A group of rebels unite to dismantle his iron rule—galvanized by the heroic song of Joan, a child-warrior who possesses a mysterious force that lives within her and communes with the earth. When de Men and his armies turn Joan into a martyr, the consequences are astonishing. And no one—not the rebels, Jean de Men, or even Joan herself—can foresee the way her story and unique gift will forge the destiny of an entire world for generations. A riveting tale of destruction and love found in direst of places—even at the extreme end of post-human experience—Lidia Yuknavitch’s The Book of Joan raises questions about what it means to be human, the fluidity of sex and gender, and the role of art as means for survival.

This is not your mother's memoir. In The Chronology of Water, Lidia Yuknavitch expertly moves the reader through issues of gender, sexuality, violence, and the family from the point of view of a lifelong swimmer turned artist. In writing that explores the nature of memoir itself, her story traces the effect of extreme grief on a young woman's developing sexuality that some define as untraditional because of her attraction to both men and women. Her emergence as a writer evolves at the same time and takes the narrator on a journey of addiction, self-destruction, and ultimately survival that finally comes in the shape of love and motherhood.

A self-defined misfit makes a powerful case for not fitting in—for recognizing the beauty, and difficulty, in forging an original path.A misfit is a person who missed fitting in, a person who fits in badly, or this: a person who is poorly adapted to new situations and environments. It’s a shameful word, a word no one typically tries to own. Until now.Lidia Yuknavitch is a proud misfit. That wasn’t always the case. It took Lidia a long time to not simply accept, but appreciate, her misfit status. Having flunked out of college twice (and maybe even a third time that she’s not going to tell you about), with two epic divorces under her belt, an episode of rehab for drug use, and two stints in jail, she felt like she would never fit in. She was a hopeless misfit. She’d failed as daughter, wife, mother, scholar—and yet the dream of being a writer was stuck like “a small sad stone” in her throat.The feeling of not fitting in is universal. The Misfit’s Manifesto is for misfits around the world—the rebels, the eccentrics, the oddballs, and anyone who has ever felt like she was messing up. It’s Lidia’s love letter to all those who can’t ever seem to find the “right” path. She won’t tell you how to stop being a misfit—quite the opposite. In her charming, poetic, funny, and frank style, Lidia will reveal why being a misfit is not something to overcome, but something to embrace. Lidia also encourages her fellow misfits not to be afraid of pursuing goals, how to stand up, how to ask for the things they want most. Misfits belong in the room, too, she reminds us, even if their path to that room is bumpy and winding. An important idea that transcends all cultures and countries, this book has created a brave and compassionate community for misfits, a place where everyone can belong.

National Bestseller A masterful literary talent explores the treacherous, often violent borders between war and sex, love and art. With the flash of a camera, one girl’s life is shattered, and a host of others altered forever. . . In a war-torn village in Eastern Europe, an American photographer captures a heart-stopping a young girl flying toward the lens, fleeing a fiery explosion that has engulfed her home and family. The image wins acclaim and prizes, becoming an icon for millions—and a subject of obsession for one writer, the photographer’s best friend, who has suffered a devastating tragedy of her own. As the writer plunges into a suicidal depression, her filmmaker husband enlists several friends, including a fearless bisexual poet and an ingenuous performance artist, to save her by rescuing the unknown girl and bringing her to the United States. And yet, as their plot unfolds, everything we know about the story comes into What does the writer really want? Who is controlling the action? And what will happen when these two worlds—east and west, real and virtual—collide? A fierce, provocative, and deeply affecting novel of both ideas and action that blends the tight construction of Julian Barnes’s The Sense of an Ending with the emotional power of Anthony Marra’s A Constellation of Vital Phenomena, Lidia Yuknavitch’s The Small Backs of Children is a major step forward from one of our most avidly watched writers.

Lidia Yuknavitch has an unmatched gift for capturing stories of people on the margins--vulnerable humans leading lives of challenge and transcendence. Now, Yuknavitch offers an imaginative masterpiece: the story of Laisve, a motherless girl from the late 21st century who is learning her power as a carrier, a person who can harness the power of meaningful objects to carry her through time. Sifting through the detritus of a fallen city known as the Brook, she discovers a talisman that will mysteriously connect her with a series of characters from the past two centuries: a French sculptor; a woman of the American underworld; a dictator's daughter; an accused murderer; and a squad of laborers at work on a national monument. Through intricately braided storylines, Laisve must dodge enforcement raids and find her way to the present day, and then, finally, to the early days of her imperfect country, to forge a connection that might save their lives--and their shared dream of freedom. A dazzling novel of body, spirit, and survival, Thrust will leave no reader unchanged.

A fiercely empathetic group portrait of the marginalized and outcast in moments of crisis, from one of the most galvanizing voices in American fiction. Lidia Yuknavitch's characters are scarred by the unchecked hungers of others and themselves, yet determined to find salvation within lives that can feel beyond their control. In novels such as The Small Backs of Children and The Book of Joan, she has captivated readers with stories of visceral power. Now, in Verge, she offers a shard-sharp mosaic portrait of human resilience on the margins.