Saturday, July 28, 2018

Book Review: "Aquí yacen dragones" ("Here There Be Dragons") by Fernando León de Aranoa

Aquí yacen dragones (Here There be Dragons) (2013)
Fernando León de Aranoa
196 pages


For his book Aquí yacen dragones (Here There be Dragons), Spanish director Fernando León de Aranoa has written a series of extremely short vignettes in which he exposes and explores a variety of human foibles and folly. Along the way he for the most part manages to avoid crossing the dangerously thin and often-times capricious line that, in works of this kind, separates the thought-provoking and profound from the cute and facile.

The 113 pieces in the collection range in length from several words to several pages, with most logging-in at a few tightly wound paragraphs. The themes vary widely, from ruminations on the hidden reality behind clichéd thinking we tend not to question, to examinations of the implications and motivations behind engrained behaviors we carefully avoid considering too deeply.

Representative of León de Aranoa’s approach in the book is Primer Amor (First Love), which tells the story of a man who decides after his wife’s death to search “for his first love[;] for the girl who, with stormy eyes, had made the earth shake under his feet so many years before.” (120) In the colorful yet delicate style evident throughout the book, León de Aranoa describes the teenagers’ brief moment of happiness together one summer vacation long before:
They dated for a week. They vowed to never split up, but September, which is cruel and knows nothing of lovers, returned them to the autumn of their respective cities. (120)
Now, having found out where she lives these many years later, the man travels to her city and sets himself up in a café across from her door, hoping to catch sight of her. When he eventually does, his reaction forces us to confront the complex and conflicted nature of our memories and expectations.

That story, in its final line, contains a surprising twist, a technique that appears repeatedly in the book, and which León de Aranoa uses to drive home the ways we tend to default to mental shortcuts, and become stuck in self-delusional thinking. Admittedly, a few of the longer pieces are little more than set-ups for a cute surprise ending, and several others are simply whimsical one-liners, such as Los Meteorólogos en el Ascensor (Weathermen in the Elevator): “What does the weatherman talk about when he doesn’t know what to say?” But the majority pass beyond the superficial, starting from the statement of commonplace ideas and emotions to explore their deeper complexity.

El Silencio (Silence), for example, opens with the observation that “it is surprising how some things that appear to be simple can contain so many nuances.” (43) León de Aranoa goes on to consider the wildly different meanings and implications that “silence” can have, depending on the context. In this story his observations don’t so much shock or surprise, as crystalize the concept:
It is not the same, the silence of lovers, which expresses itself through hands and caresses, as the silence of the routine of a marriage that has already broken down, though one ignores it, and it continues on. There is likewise a loving silence, and another one violent. The first silences words of affection, while the second hides threats and insults. (43)

While some pieces will resonate more than others for particular readers --- based on individual experiences and outlook --- others carry a broader social and political import. The Oración Del Migrante (Migrant’s Prayer), for one, speaks directly to a politically charged pre-occupation of our present age. It opens:
Patron Saint of Migrants, Powerful Virgin who lives on both sides of the border: guide my steps through deserts and fences, stop the current of the freezing river, warm its waters and extend your cloak over the barbed wire fences, so that my naked feet can walk over them without injury. … When my child takes the last breath of life on my lap, temper my rage with your serene glance. (93)
The complexity of the immigration debate, with thoughtful regulation of immigration subjected to exaggerated accusations across the political divide in which one side sees it as tantamount to a demand for ‘open’ borders and the other a demand for ‘closed’ borders, too often results in conversations that lose sight of the individual humanity of migrants desperate seeking a path to survival for themselves and their families; León de Aranoa’s prayer reminds us of these faces of those who suffer from our inability to move beyond the virulent polemic.
http://tertulia-moderna.blogspot.com/2013/10/book-review-children-of-days-by-eduardo.html

In a similar vein, the piece Oro (Gold) captures in a few paragraphs the long and powerful reach of historical events in the Americas, from the painfully enduring impact of colonization, to the legacy of often corrupt governments that arose out of subsequent independence movements. It tells of treasure that’s discovered in a Spanish galleon that sank in colonial times, of the several entities that claim ownership to it, and of the indigenous peoples that don’t even have the voice to lay a claim for it. In the story’s tone and viewpoint one discovers strong parallels to the amazing works of Eduardo Galeano, such as his books Children of the Days, and Mirrors. (Links to my reviews of these books are at the right.)http://tertulia-moderna.blogspot.com/2014/11/book-review-mirrors-stories-of-almost.html

By turns surprising, wry and profound, León de Aranoa’s collection of observations turns our view inward, forcing us to critically examine behaviors and ways of thinking that have often become so ingrained that we leave them unconsidered.


Other reviews / information:

Read quotes from the book here.
The translation from the Spanish of those quotes, and the one used in the review, are mine.

Aquí yacen dragones (Here There be Dragons) does not appear to have been translated into English. All translations in this review are mine, including the title.


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf

Thursday, July 5, 2018

Book Review: "Sal" by Mick Kitson

Sal (2018)
Mick Kitson
234 pages

He hadn’t started going in Peppa’s room then but I knew he would soon because he said he would and Peppa was ten and that was when he started on me. (2)
These bracing lines from the opening pages of journalist Mick Kitson’s debut novel Sal make devastatingly clear the disturbing home life faced by the book’s thirteen year-old narrator, Sal, and her sister, Peppa. These same pages, however, also introduce Sal as clear-eyed and steely-willed beyond her years, determined to protect her sister at truly any cost.

As the story begins, the two huddle together in a shelter they have built for themselves in the wilderness; it is one of their first nights on their own in the woods, and a cold October wind chills them to the bone. But Sal has come prepared; after making the decision in the spring to flee, she willingly endured further months of abuse in order to give herself time to carefully and thoroughly organize an escape. Learning survival skills from many hours of YouTube videos, and creatively obtaining a variety of the survival tools shown, she has meticulously prepared herself, creating an elaborate plan to be able to stay together with her sister, and give them the best possible chance to survive.

Leaving their home behind, Sal has led her sister up into the deep woods of a mountainous reserve in the Scottish highlands. And, benefitting from both her detailed preparation as well as some timely good fortune, the girls come to make a go of it, relishing the peaceful beauty of their new home as they try to put the lingering horror of their old one behind them.

And yet. Can even Sal’s best laid plans and stubborn determination carry them through the daunting realities of surviving in the woods?

Kitson uses flashbacks by Sal to reveal the disturbing home life the girls have left behind, as well as the details of their escape. Through these flashbacks, Sal attempts to process what she has experienced, and the implications of the actions she has taken to protect herself and her sister. But however dark and at times overwhelming these memories, the newfound feeling of control over their lives that she and Peppa experience in the woods creates a powerful elixir. Despite the profound uncertainties of the natural world, the juxtaposition of the peace they experience in the woods to the premeditated violence and chaotic uncertainty of their abandoned home provides a convincing foundation for believing that two adolescents can be willing and able to put up with the challenges they encounter in the life they construct for themselves in the mountains.

Sal’s voice and tone also help in this regard. Her every thought and action reflects the translation of her role as the sole responsible caregiver and protector of her sister from the dangers they had faced at home to the preferable but no less threating world of their mountain home. Sal remains constantly on guard, almost robotic in her focus, with seemingly every event she faces triggering memories of a YouTube video she learned from, or an answer to a question she had purposefully asked a teacher, during her months of preparation.

Certainly it is no coincidence that Kitson titled the book after its narrator: at its heart the novel tells the story of how a thirteen year old --- abused and with no one to turn to or trust for support --- becomes a kind of machine in order to survive, single-mindedly focused on protecting her sister from her fate. Sal meticulously regulates her emotions and reactions, to the point of deliberately allowing herself on occasion a specific amount of time to worry about her situation before getting on with the business at hand. Robbed of her childhood, but not her humanity, Sal’s love for her sister Peppa burns strong and bright, enabling her to overcome seemingly any obstacle.

How appropriate, then, that the jacket designer for the hardcover edition elected to draw Sal’s name in large, glowing, capital letters, set like a leviathan astride a mountain wilderness scene.


Other reviews / information:

Having set the book in Scotland, Kitson includes Scottish expressions that were generally unfamiliar to me, some of them a struggle to understand even from context --- who knew that ‘greeting’ can be used to mean ‘crying’? Having a smartphone nearby to use to look-up the definitions for these words when they come up can be handy.


Have you read this book, others by this author, or even similar ones by other authors? I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts.
Other of my book reviews: FICTION Bookshelf and NON-FICTION Bookshelf