*Cold Skin, by Albert Sanchez Piñol

9781841958835
Canongate
2005
Originally published as La Pell Freda, 2002
translated by Cheryl Leah Morgan

"We are never very far from those we hate. For this very reason, we shall never be truly close to those we love."  With those words, Catalan author Albert Sanchez Piñol begins his tale of a young man who takes a position as a weather official on a remote island, out of the normal shipping lanes, along the coast of Antarctica.  He is the unnamed narrator of this tale, and has opted for this position to exile himself from the rest of the world, needing some time and space to "negotiate between the devastating failures that came before and utter darkness that is on its way." 

Upon landing, he is startled to find that there is no sign of the previous weather official, who is to return to the world on the very same ship.  Not only is he absent from his cabin, but the inside of his quarters is in complete disarray, with additional signs of abandon and neglect. Hoping to find the missing man, accompanied by the captain, the narrator walks to the only other structure there, the lighthouse.  There they find a man, Gruner, in charge of keeping the signal going, who refuses to answer any questions.  Refusing the captain's offer of leaving the island, the narrator returns to his cabin and begins to put his new life in order.  Things are fine that first day, but when the night comes, the narrator finds himself under attack from something not human, a group of beings who call the island home.  Barricading himself within the cabin, he fights back with what little he has.  Mercifully, the nights are very short, and when the daylight arrives, he realizes that his survival will depend on getting to the lighthouse and securing the cooperation of Gruner as well. This will be easier said than done, as Gruner has his owns reasons for remaining isolated.  The rest of the novel details their survival not only against these odd creatures, but also against each other and themselves individually.

This is a very vague synopsis, but to say more would be to ruin it for anyone who might want to read this novel. If you carefully consider Nietzsche's statement about "he who fights with monsters," you've got the very essence of the novel.  It seems at first to read as a sci-fi or speculative fiction novel (and reminded me a great deal of the work of HP Lovecraft) but it can also (and should be) read as an allegorical reflection on our fear and distrust of anything we perceive as Other.  It's also an examination of the human capacity for brutality,  as well as a look at the perils of self-imposed isolation that can change an ordinary human being into the worst sort of monster.    The ending, although purposefully vague, shores up the idea that life is more or less cyclical, and  leaves it to the reader to contemplate whether or not there is any hope for the future.

If ever there was a case for "don't judge a book by its first few pages," Cold Skin is it.  I was scarcely into it when the first Antarctic nightfall came & the attacks began, and I thought "well, I'm done with this one," as I'm not really big on books with monsters unless they're the Lovecraftian sort that live tucked away on the fringes of other dimensions, threatening to make their presence known when the conditions are right.  But I reread the back cover, noticed that the book had won some kind of literary award, and figured that they don't give out literary awards for simple monster stories, so there must be something I'm missing.  And there was. Once I was determined to get back to the book, I couldn't put it down.  While I won't call the writing brilliant (and this may be a translation issue, who knows?) , it was good enough to keep me reading, all the time wondering what was going to happen next.

Recommended, with caution -- while on one level it's a horror story, but not just because of the creatures who inhabit the sea, so people interested in Cold Skin for its sci-fi/horror aspects might be a bit disappointed in its philosophical bent.  People who read mainly literary fiction might be turned off due to its focus on said creatures, but will probably get the most out of the novel. 

one further note: A movie project is in the works, and if the filmmakers don't screw up the adaptation, it could be a good one. 

fiction from Spain

*The Wrong Blood, by Manuel de Lope

9781590513093
Other Press
2010
original Spanish title: Sangre Ajena, 2000; translated by John Cullen
288 pp.




The Wrong Blood  is the story of two women of different classes in Spain's Basque country: Maria Antonia Etxarri, the young daughter of a local innkeeper and Isabel Cruces Hernandez, who comes from a family of wealth and influence.  During the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939), their individual tragedies unexpectedly bring and then bind them together for the rest of their lives. Isabel falls in love with and marries an army captain, who is killed shortly afterwards, leaving behind not only Isabel but her unborn child. Maria Antonia, only a teenager, is raped when a group of soldiers take shelter at her father's inn. The local doctor, Felix Castro, is the central figure connecting them both. In the present, Miguel Goitia, law student and Isabel's grandson, is spending time at his grandmother's estate (which now belongs to Maria Antonia), a sanctuary of peace and quiet while he is preparing for his bar exam. His very presence there brings out memories of old wartime secrets that Miguel is not privy to -- and Castro is torn between telling him the truth about things or letting old memories lie dormant.  It is also a story about loss, grief, the nature of class distinction, and as Dave Boling, author of Guernica and one of the blurbers wrote, about  "... human survival at desperate times."

In terms of the writing, the direction of the plotline is a bit obvious once you begin reading, but that hardly matters in the long run.  I only rarely find an author whose prose is so eloquent that I want to read the book again just to appreciate its beauty. And considering this is a translated version, well, I can only imagine how absolutely wonderful it must be in the original Spanish.  The story is paced very well; it starts a bit slow, setting the overall tone immediately, while allowing the reader to absorb and appreciate small details that might otherwise be overlooked.  The sense of time and place is evoked largely through the use of flashbacks, which take the reader seamlessly and skillfully through the hardships of war into the present and back again, without causing any interruption to  the overall flow of the story. It is a book that will you find difficult to put down until the very end.

I recommend this novel to people who enjoy Spanish novels in translation, and who truly appreciate the beauty of the written word. It's definitely not a book for those who want something quick and easy, nor is it an action-packed novel that once you've read you'll forget, like so much fiction that's out there on bookstore shelves at the moment.. It's a book to be enjoyed slowly -- and kept on your shelf to visit again some day.

fiction from Spain