“Flowers from Greece” requires a warning preface: humor will not be used as camouflage in any line of this book. Not a word. Instead of the masterful device invented by Jane Austen and used wisely by women in autobiographies and fictions that hit the “bestseller” lists, Paula Brukmüller takes a deep breath (if by the sea, even better) and strips down, completely and entirely, right in front of the reader.
Paula uses her personal tragedy of successive miscarriages, attempts to get pregnant, and the breakup of a marriage, moving to a city in which she was not born in, as a backhoe excavator. While completing a world tour, alone and with a backpack on her back, she seeks out who she wants to be, but mostly pulls from herself lost pleasures of her own femininity, and turns out to be hedonistic, devout, sensual, suppressed, selfish, friend.