"What do you want us to learn, Paula?After reading up to her closing lines: Godspeed, Paula, woman. Welcome, Paula, spirit on page 330 of this amazing 1995-published memoir, still the question above is the one that reverberates inside my head. This is one of the questions the 49-y/o Chilean-American novelist, Isabel Allende asked her 29-y/o comatose daughter, Paula Frias Allende.The reason is Bhang. My 29-y/o officemate who is currently comatose right after giving birth to a healthy baby boy (her second) last month. She had a stroke due to lack of oxygen while giving birth and now has to be fed like a baby. Although she can open her eyes, she does not recognize anyone. We already passed the envelope. We formed a 24-hr prayer brigade and I have my slot and dutifully do my share of uttering prayers for her everyday. However, just like Isabel's question to her 29-y/o daughter, Paula Frias Allende, there must be a reason why Bhang is in coma. There could be something else that we, her officemates, can do for her and learn something from this.Bhang and I are not close. In fact, we never said a word to each other since she joined the company in 2005. Maybe it is because our desks are in the different floors. Maybe because our wide age difference. Maybe she is in Marketing and I am in IT and her group does not use the system I am maintaining. Maybe we are not destined to be friends or did not have a chance to bump into each other and introduce ourselves. The sad news of what happened to her came out on the same day I celebrated my 46th birthday last month. The attendees of my party, passed on the envelope and I even considered the party contest's humble prizes should be cut down and give instead to Bhang. The week later, I sent an email for us to form a prayer brigade which is still in-place even up to now.Last week, Bhang already left the hospital. She is still comatose but her relatives decide to just take care of her at home. Same as what happened in the book: Isabel decided to take care of her daughter Paula at home because she thought that the familiar surroundings was something that could help Paula to recover. Maybe it is the same reason why Bhang's family decided to bring her home.I told my wife about Bhang and when I updated her a couple of days back, she said give more help. I told her that Bhang and I are not that close. She said as a mother, she feels sad not only for Bhang but also for the newborn baby. With his mother in coma, who is now taking care of him. I guess her mother's heart is speaking to my wife. Give more money to Bhang, she said.So, this month-end, we we will have Pancit for Bhang in the office. The idea of cooking noodles is based on what my wife's officemates they did, last year, for their very sick officemate: Lugaw Para Kay XXXXX. Somebody cooked a big bowl of rice porridge and sold a small bowl at exorbitant price. All proceeds went to the family of the very sick man.This may not be a proper review for an amazing book Paula by Isabel Allende of novels like The House of Spirits, Love and Shadows, Eva Luna, The Infinite Plan, etc. However, the fact that it made me think of what else should be done for Bhang means that this is a powerful book. Paula and Bhang. The same age. Young women. Talented, a whole stretch of bright future ahead of them. What do their experiences want to teach us?There must still be something we can do. There must be.

Um livro a guardar como referência...É uma excelente opção!É uma espécie de autobiografia da autora.Muito privado e intenso...Passado e presente.O presente no passado e o passado no presente!O futuro é um enquadramento entre os dois...É importante cativar a vida****Adeus Paula Mulher...Bem vinda Paula Espírito*

When Isabel Allendes daughter became gravely ill and fell into a coma, the author spent days at Paulas bedside. At her own mothers urging, Allende began to write the story of her family for Paula in an attempt to connect her child with her ancestors, so that when you wake up you will not feel so lost. Evocative, heart-rending, luminous, suspenseful, triumphant I cannot think of enough adjectives to describe this beautifully written memoir. Allende lays her soul bare on the page. She brings her own grandparents, uncles, cousins, parents, brothers, friends to life as she attempts to reach the comatose Paula. Her family connections are full of world-famous people not the least of which was her uncle Salvador Allende and she had a rather privileged upbringing. She traveled extensively with her mother and stepfather, who was a diplomat, and attended private schools. But all her advantages could not protect Allende from lifes setbacks and tragedies. With unfailing honesty she relates everything from being sexually molested as a child to being a television star, from a sheltered young woman to a feminist and political exile, from a traditional wife and mother to a reckless love affair with an Argentinian trumpeter. She also includes many examples of her deep connections to the mystical and spiritual; its easy to see why she writes magical realism so well.The work moves back and forth from Allendes history to the events in Paulas hospital room. Those scenes at her daughters bedside were some of the most emotional. The fierceness with which Allende fought to bring her precious child back from the abyss, the refusal to take No for an answer, the determination to bring her daughter back to California and her home overlooking San Francisco Bay these passages in the book reveal the woman today, while the scenes relating her history show how she came to be this strong woman. It took me a while to get into the book. The writing is very dense; a paragraph can last three pages. But once I got used to the rhythm of her writing I was totally immersed and engaged. Allendes gift for storytelling is evident. There were passages that evoked laughter, sections where I recognized my own relationships with my brothers or grandparents, and scenes that had me in tears or gasping aloud. Towards the end of the book she writes this:I try to remember who I was once but I find only disguises, masks, projections, the confused images of a woman I cant recognize. Am I the feminist I thought I was, or the frivolous girl who appeared on television wearing nothing but ostrich feathers? The obsessive mother, the unfaithful wife, the fearless adventurer, or the cowardly woman? Am I the person who helped political fugitives find asylum or the one who ran away because she couldnt handle fear?The answer, of course, is that she is all these women. Her experiences may be unique, but her reactions are universal.