2007 books

May. 12th, 2007 10:52 pm
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41) Carlos María Domínguez, The Paper House, 2004
Anyone who lives their life at least partially under the spell of books will almost certainly find the premise of The Paper House captivating: a copy of Joseph Conrad's The Shadow Line is sent by a Cambridge lady professor to a Uruguayan academic. Not long after, the professor is dead and the book suddenly arrives back in England, caked in the dust of concrete. The small mystery to be solved is not the reason for her death – that is explained away in a very brief literary indulgence – but the nature of what has been done to her book while in Uruguay, and the answer somehow lies in the power of books themselves. There is a distinctly Latin American quality to this novella's fanaticism for literature, but most of us who possess a substantial number of books will identify at least a little with such veneration and also be uncomfortably reminded of the sometimes unreasonable degrees of power our books have over us. It's a self-conscious read and possibly too self-indulgent aswell, but I can't deny it is also unerringly engaging with many passages I want to go through again, so it's probably up for a re-read soon.

2006 books

Nov. 7th, 2006 12:07 pm
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71) Mario Delgado Aparaín, The Ballad of Johnny Sosa, 1991
Set at the time of Uruguay's 1973 military coup in the nowhere town of Mosquitos, Johnny Sosa is a poor black dude who sings soul and blues in the local brothels, minus his teeth, a decent guitar or much of a future. Then with the involvement of a local impresario who's friendly with the town's new military rulers, he gets a chance to make it big in a national singing competition, and at last get some teeth and a good guitar. But soon he realises there's a price to pay when his neighbours start disappearing, his political awareness is awakened when he sees where the connections lead, and he questions whether his big dreams are worth the cost.

Aparaín has been compared to Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and I can see the similarities in the earthiness of the subject matter. But Aparaín conceals his story with too many unnecessarily obscuring passages: there's much to this story that's hidden and that does not emerge easily, to the extent that I found myself having to re-read several pages back to see what I must have missed the first time, making me wonder if it really was a tale worth telling if it couldn't be told any straighter than it is. But maybe that complexity is sometimes inevitable when a writer tries to make a big fable out of a small story.

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