Una obra maestra de la ganadora del Premio Nobel de Literatura 1993. Esta es la historia de Sula y Nel, dos niñas que crecen juntas en un barrio de negros, compartiendo sus sueños e ilusiones. Ambas son precoces y curiosas, hijas de familias pobres. Pero el tiempo pasa y, cuando Nel se casa, Sula se marcha del suburbio para ir a la universidad y viajar por el país. Diez años después, Sula regresa e involuntariamente destruye la familia y la felicidad de Nel. A partir de entonces, los pintorescos habitantes del suburbio la consideran una bruja malvada...   Ambientada en los EE.UU. en el período de entreguerras, Sula es un portentoso retrato del poder de lo femenino en una comunidad pobre y rural de negros, donde las mujeres reinan como madres, hechiceras y depositarias de la tradición oral. ENGLISH DESCRIPTION Sula and Nel are born in the Bottom—a small town at the top of a hill. Sula is wild, and daring; she does what she wants, while Nel is well-mannered, a mamma’s girl with a questioning heart. Growing up they forge a bond stronger than anything, stronger even than the dark secret they have to bear. Strong enough, it seems, to last a lifetime—until, decades later, as the girls become women, Sula’s anarchy leads to a betrayal that may be beyond forgiveness. One of The Atlantic ’s Great American Novels of the Past 100 Years Masterful, richly textured, bittersweet, and vital, Sula is a modern masterpiece about love and kinship, about living in an America birthed from slavery. Nobel Prize laureate Toni Morrison gives life to characters who struggle with what society tells them to be, and the love they long for and crave as Black women. Most of all, they ask: When can we let go? What must we hold back? And just how much can be shared in a friendship? Toni Morrison (1931-2019) nació en Lorain (Ohio). Alternó su trabajo de profesora de Humanidades en la Universidad de Princeton con la actividad literaria. En sus obras planteó la problemática de la población negra en Estados Unidos, en especial la situación de las mujeres. Fue autora de las novelas Ojos azules (1970), Sula (1973), La canción de Salomón (1977, National Book Critics Circle Award en 1978), La isla de los caballeros (1981), Beloved (Lumen, 2021, Premio Pulitzer), Jazz (1992), Paraíso (1997), Amor (2003), Una bendición (Lumen, 2009), Volver (Lumen, 2012) y La noche de los niños (Lumen, 2016), de ensayos como El origen de los otros (Lumen, 2018) y La fuente de la autoestima (Lumen, 2020), y de un único relato que, con epílogo de Zadie Smith, Lumen publica ahora en el libro Las dos amigas (un recitativo). En 1993 obtuvo el Premio Nobel de Literatura. Murió en agosto de 2019 en el pequeño pueblo neoyorquino de Grand View-on-Hudson a los ochenta y ocho años de edad. Sula By Toni Morrison Debolsillo Copyright © 2005 Toni Morrison All right reserved. ISBN: 9788497932646 Chapter One In that place, where they tore the nightshade and blackberry patches from their roots to make room for the Medallion City Golf Course, there was once a neighborhood. It stood in the hills above the valley town of Medallion and spread all the way to the river. It is called the suburbs now, but when black people lived there it was called the Bottom. One road, shaded by beeches, oaks, maples and chestnuts, connected it to the valley. The beeches are gone now, and so are the pear trees where children sat and yelled down through the blossoms to passersby. Generous funds have been allotted to level the stripped and faded buildings that clutter the road from Medallion up to the golf course. They are going to raze the Time and a Half Pool Hall, where feet in long tan shoes once pointed down from chair rungs. A steel ball will knock to dust Irene's Palace of Cosmetology, where women used to lean their heads back on sink trays and doze while Irene lathered Nu Nile into their hair. Men in khaki work clothes will pry loose the slats of Reba's Grill, where the owner cooked in her hat because she couldn't remember the ingredients without it. There will be nothing left of the Bottom (the footbridge that crossed the river is already gone), but perhaps it is just as well, since it wasn't a town anyway: just a neighborhood where on quiet days people in valley houses could hear singing sometimes, banjos sometimes, and, if a valley man happened to have business up in those hills-collecting rent or insurance payments-he might see a dark woman in a flowered dress doing a bit of cakewalk, a bit of black bottom, a bit of "messing around" to the lively notes of a mouth organ. Her bare feet would raise the saffron dust that floated down on the coveralls and bunion-split shoes of the man breathing music in and out of his harmonica. The black people watching her would laugh and rub their knees, and it would be easy for the valley man to hear the laughter and not notice the adult pain that rested somewhere under the eyelids, somewhere u