Bisa Bia, Bisa Bel

Bisa Bia, Bisa Bel felt to me like a book with the reach of a family album. Ana Maria Machado tells the story through Isabel, a girl who discovers that she carries many voices inside her. One belongs to her great-grandmother, Bia, who remembers a formal and restricted past. Another belongs to Nélson, the grandfather she never knew, whose playful presence challenges the rules Isabel has learned to accept. Their conversations are imaginary.

I enjoyed the novel because it understands a child's mind without reducing it to sweetness. Isabel is curious, annoyed, inventive, and unsure of what she wants. She listens to Bia's instructions about manners, femininity, and obedience, while Nélson encourages jokes, independence, and a share of freedom. Neither voice is presented as a answer. Bia preserves memory and affection, but she also carries habits that have limited women. Nélson opens doors, yet his confidence can overlook what responsibility requires.

The book becomes especially engaging when Isabel begins to argue with both of them. She does not simply choose the modern voice over the old one. Instead, she tries to imagine a future in which she can learn from the past without being trapped by it. I found that movement intelligent. Machado gives a young protagonist the right to question roles, even when those roles arrive through love and tradition.

The dialogue between generations is light, humorous, and never heavy with explanation. A hairstyle, a school task, a household rule, or a remark can become the beginning of a larger conversation. Because the novel stays close to Isabel's everyday life, its ideas about gender and freedom never feel imposed from outside. They grow from her wish to decide how she will speak, play, dress, and live.

I admired the warmth of Machado's storytelling. The fantasy of hearing ancestors does not make Isabel lonely or strange. It gives form to the way children absorb contradictory messages from the adults around them. Her inner companions make the invisible visible. They show how family history can be both a burden and a resource when a child begins to form an independent self.

By the end, Bisa Bia, Bisa Bel had left me with a sense of possibility. Isabel has not solved every question, and the novel wisely avoids pretending that one generation can repair everything for the next. Still, she has learned to answer back. That simple act feels powerful. For me, the book is a lively, affectionate, and thoughtful celebration of growing up while deciding which voices deserve to accompany us forward.