Written in very short chapters, in a simple yet devastating language, Why Are Horses So Beautiful? is a story about dementia, about writing in order not to forget, about the beauty of the countryside and of horses. With no room for self‑pity, Sari’s daughter records the moment her mother’s mind begins to unravel and words slip away. The narrator notes down a memory that isn’t hers, a funny remark, fragments from a diary, a scene from the neighbourhood, bits of nonsense; she piles them up and pastes them together like a collage — like the collage her mother has become.

In a time when grief dominates so many narratives, Julieta Correa creates a mosaic assembled from pieces that hold together the need to find oneself after loss. She brings us a book about life.

 

“Correa gifts us a text marked by an oral and low-key style that exudes elegance and tangibility. Above all, dynamism and humor. […]. Julieta Correa’s book is a tremendous text about the death of others and one’s own. […]: surprising and dry, like a stroke of luck.” – Andrea Toribio, El País Babelia

“A first book that surprises with the freshness with which Julieta Correa approaches a subject as difficult as her mother’s dementia (…). Somewhere between autobiography, notebook, and Sari’s own voice, Why Are Horses So Beautiful? manages to be a luminous book about devastating events — an intelligent, refined literary piece that conjures sadness and fear in order to transform them into something else.” – Malena Rey

“In her subtle, fragmentary, and moving book, Julieta Correa narrates what it means to let go of a mother who, although still there, is no longer there…The pain that tears us apart can also produce beautiful effects in literature. This book achieves that beauty.” – Hinde Pomeraniec

“A literary debut with the power to deeply move […] Julieta narrates with precision and tenderness the progressive physical and mental decline of Sari […] She describes a process of double transformation—her own as well as her mother’s.” –  El Diario Ar

“A book which I have just finished reading and already wish to read again, so deep, gentle, and luminous is its journey. A book where someone leans into the pain without ever renouncing tenderness, not even for a moment. […] Julieta Correa’s writing has a sobriety that one is grateful for; it is secretly poetic” –La Nación

“Correa offers a detailed and heartfelt narrative of the family ordeal […] expressed with an impressive command of the rhythms, pauses, and gaps of the texts themselves. Without losing its authentic and necessary tone of levelheadedness, it is the literary elegance that keeps the reader turning pages.” – Kit Maude, Revista Oropel

“A book about maternal love, filial love, loss, memory, about the devastating nature of memory’s implosion, about the value of words. Composed of fragments and immediate observation, it is a virtuous, artistic, and hopeful metabolization of love. […] A text full of painful tenderness, with an enormous heart.” – Matías Bauso, Infobae

“A deliberately fragmentary and tangential montage, full of voids and vanishing points. At the same time a fable of mourning, a diary, a chronicle, a portrait, and a clinical inquiry, this narrative functions as an intimate prism.”– La Voz del Interior

“It is a luminous book that, with sober yet no less tender prose, tells the story of the transformation of a bond. […] A witness text, aiming to reassemble the family lexicon, to complete the words that Sari no longer has.” – Ana Montes, La Agenda

“The literary debut of Julieta Correa is a major event […] The prose has a beautiful, poetic realism despite the scenes it shows: many are of a savage harshness, others of an immeasurable tenderness.” – Héctor Pavón, Clarín Ñ

 

224 pages – Original language: Spanish/Argentina (Rosa Iceberg, 2024). Foreign Editions: Spanish/Spain (Comisura, 2026); Spanish/Chile (Montacerdos, 2025); Brazilian Portuguese (Editora 34, 2026)