In brief, sharply drawn moments, Sylvia Molloy's Dislocations
records the gradual loss of a beloved friend, M.L., a disappearance
in ways expected (forgotten names, forgotten moments) and painfully
surprising (the reversion to a formal, proper Spanish from their
previous shared vernacular). There are occasions of wonder,
too-M.L. can no longer find the words to say she is dizzy, but can
translate that message from Spanish to English, when it's passed
along by a friend. This loss holds Molloy's sense of herself
too-the person she is in relation to M.L. fades as her friend's
memory does. But the writer remains: 'I'm not writing to patch up
holes and make people (or myself) think that there's nothing to see
here, but rather to bear witness to unintelligibilities and
breaches and silences. That is my continuity, that of the scribe.'
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