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donato 's review for:
Veleno e ombra e addio
by Javier Marías
Oh what a long strange poisonous fever dream it's been, oh what a shadowy dance with death (and war and violence). And still is, because it's like my head's all foggy and I'm having trouble gathering my thoughts. It's as if they're caught in Marías's intricate web of interrupted stories and conversations, citations (and self-citations) and repetitions.
The fact that it took me a while to finish the book doesn't help either. In fact, it took me a really long time to finish the trilogy as a whole, for several reasons. First, my copy of the 1st volume was faulty (entire pages missing). So I had to wait for a replacement copy to arrive in Brussels (much thanks go to Einaudi for that!); second, the paperback version of the 3rd volume was just coming out as I finished the 2nd volume, so I first waited for its release, then vainly waited for a delivery from an online Italian bookstore (it never came [1]), before placing a second order with amazon [2]; and thirdly, I took my own sweet time in reading the 3rd volume. I'm not sure I can say why: Marías fatigue perhaps? (though in this case I read other books between the volumes; see my review of Tomorrow in the Battle Think on Me); half-paralyzed in that aforementioned web? or poisoned into numbness by Tupra's philosophy? (Most likely all of the above.)
Let's start with the beginning, where Tupra begins to inject us with his poison (which isn't his of course, but the "world's"). Before he begins to show Deza the violent videos, he says (this is the first line of the book), "We don't want it, but we always prefer that the person beside us die [rather than ourselves]..." [3] So right away we're kinda taken aback. Really? Are humans really that mean? Tupra admits that there are exceptions of course, but that in general "that's the way of the world". If the ship's sinking, every man for himself. Deep down, we're violent and uncaring. And so how does Deza finally answer Tupra's question? Why can't we go around hitting and killing people? (which was Deza's objection to Tupra's behavior in the club) "Because no one could live." (page 164) [4] And how does the book answer that question? It doesn't, not directly. Everyone has their own way of dealing with the way of the world, everyone sees their responsibilities differently. But the book's title keeps reminding us that even if today we won't do a certain thing, who can say about tomorrow? In the end, I think the real answer is: it depends; every situation calls for a way to handle that situation, the trick is knowing how to know it...
We could spend all day discussing the themes in this book: violence and fear, war and peace, memory and pain, death and time, the impossibility of knowing not only others but perhaps even ourselves. (Not to mention my favorite: "narrative horror", that is, our morbid attachment to our own story.)
We could spend all day discussing Marías's style [5], the literary and artistic citations that mark our way (the way), marveling at how he manages to haunt us despite our desire to be annoyed by (possibly even to scream at) his repetitions and interruptions, the unorthodox way he creates suspense, right up until the final paragraph.
But in the end, it's the story of a man -- a man who didn't even want to know himself -- who perhaps begins to know himself, a man who starts to see that words/stories/actions have consequences far beyond what we can even imagine...
[1] Not naming any names, but at least I was reimbursed.
[2] Say what you will about amazon, at least they get stuff to you [UPDATE 2020: I cancelled my amazon account because they are evil on so many levels, up to an including customer service.]
[3] My translation from the Italian translation.
[4] Which I suppose is only true if everyone went around hitting and killing people. The fact that only a minority do, makes it simply "the way of the world".
[5] Compared with his other books, this is the one (the trilogy as a whole) that seems the most "planned out".
The fact that it took me a while to finish the book doesn't help either. In fact, it took me a really long time to finish the trilogy as a whole, for several reasons. First, my copy of the 1st volume was faulty (entire pages missing). So I had to wait for a replacement copy to arrive in Brussels (much thanks go to Einaudi for that!); second, the paperback version of the 3rd volume was just coming out as I finished the 2nd volume, so I first waited for its release, then vainly waited for a delivery from an online Italian bookstore (it never came [1]), before placing a second order with amazon [2]; and thirdly, I took my own sweet time in reading the 3rd volume. I'm not sure I can say why: Marías fatigue perhaps? (though in this case I read other books between the volumes; see my review of Tomorrow in the Battle Think on Me); half-paralyzed in that aforementioned web? or poisoned into numbness by Tupra's philosophy? (Most likely all of the above.)
Let's start with the beginning, where Tupra begins to inject us with his poison (which isn't his of course, but the "world's"). Before he begins to show Deza the violent videos, he says (this is the first line of the book), "We don't want it, but we always prefer that the person beside us die [rather than ourselves]..." [3] So right away we're kinda taken aback. Really? Are humans really that mean? Tupra admits that there are exceptions of course, but that in general "that's the way of the world". If the ship's sinking, every man for himself. Deep down, we're violent and uncaring. And so how does Deza finally answer Tupra's question? Why can't we go around hitting and killing people? (which was Deza's objection to Tupra's behavior in the club) "Because no one could live." (page 164) [4] And how does the book answer that question? It doesn't, not directly. Everyone has their own way of dealing with the way of the world, everyone sees their responsibilities differently. But the book's title keeps reminding us that even if today we won't do a certain thing, who can say about tomorrow? In the end, I think the real answer is: it depends; every situation calls for a way to handle that situation, the trick is knowing how to know it...
We could spend all day discussing the themes in this book: violence and fear, war and peace, memory and pain, death and time, the impossibility of knowing not only others but perhaps even ourselves. (Not to mention my favorite: "narrative horror", that is, our morbid attachment to our own story.)
We could spend all day discussing Marías's style [5], the literary and artistic citations that mark our way (the way), marveling at how he manages to haunt us despite our desire to be annoyed by (possibly even to scream at) his repetitions and interruptions, the unorthodox way he creates suspense, right up until the final paragraph.
But in the end, it's the story of a man -- a man who didn't even want to know himself -- who perhaps begins to know himself, a man who starts to see that words/stories/actions have consequences far beyond what we can even imagine...
[1] Not naming any names, but at least I was reimbursed.
[2] Say what you will about amazon, at least they get stuff to you [UPDATE 2020: I cancelled my amazon account because they are evil on so many levels, up to an including customer service.]
[3] My translation from the Italian translation.
[4] Which I suppose is only true if everyone went around hitting and killing people. The fact that only a minority do, makes it simply "the way of the world".
[5] Compared with his other books, this is the one (the trilogy as a whole) that seems the most "planned out".