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.
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.)
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
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