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The Wind That Lays Waste
A taut, lyrical portrait of four people thrown together on a single day in rural Argentina
The Wind That Lays Waste begins in the great pause before a storm. Reverend Pearson is evangelizing across the Argentinian countryside with Leni, his teenage daughter, when their car breaks down. This act of God or fate leads them to the workshop and home of an aging mechanic called Gringo Brauer and a young boy named Tapioca.
As a long day passes, curiosity and intrigue transform into an unexpected intimacy between four people: one man who believes deeply in God, morality, and his own righteousness, and another whose life experiences have only entrenched his moral relativism and mild apathy; a quietly earnest and idealistic mechanic's assistant, and a restless, skeptical preacher's daughter. As tensions between these characters ebb and flow, beliefs are questioned and allegiances are tested, until finally the growing storm breaks over the plains.
Selva Almada's exquisitely crafted debut, with its limpid and confident prose, is profound and poetic, a tactile experience of the mountain, the sun, the squat trees, the broken cars, the sweat-stained shirts, and the destroyed lives. The Wind That Lays Waste is a philosophical, beautiful, and powerfully distinctive novel that marks the arrival in English of an author whose talent and poise are undeniable.
The Wind That Lays Waste begins in the great pause before a storm. Reverend Pearson is evangelizing across the Argentinian countryside with Leni, his teenage daughter, when their car breaks down. This act of God or fate leads them to the workshop and home of an aging mechanic called Gringo Brauer and a young boy named Tapioca.
As a long day passes, curiosity and intrigue transform into an unexpected intimacy between four people: one man who believes deeply in God, morality, and his own righteousness, and another whose life experiences have only entrenched his moral relativism and mild apathy; a quietly earnest and idealistic mechanic's assistant, and a restless, skeptical preacher's daughter. As tensions between these characters ebb and flow, beliefs are questioned and allegiances are tested, until finally the growing storm breaks over the plains.
Selva Almada's exquisitely crafted debut, with its limpid and confident prose, is profound and poetic, a tactile experience of the mountain, the sun, the squat trees, the broken cars, the sweat-stained shirts, and the destroyed lives. The Wind That Lays Waste is a philosophical, beautiful, and powerfully distinctive novel that marks the arrival in English of an author whose talent and poise are undeniable.
124 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2012
90 people are currently reading
6079 people want to read
About the author
Selva Almada
37 books860 followersSelva Almada (Entre Ríos, Argentina, 1973) is considered one of the most powerful voices of contemporary Argentinian and Latin American literature and one of the most influential feminist intellectuals of the region. Including her début The Wind that Lays Waste, she has published three novels, a book of short stories, a book of journalistic fiction (Dead Girls) and a kind of film diary (written in the set of Lucrecia Martel’s most recent film Zama, based on Antonio di Benedetto’s novel). She has been finalist of the Rodolfo Walsh Award and of the Tigre Juan Award (both in Spain). Her work has been translated into French, Italian, Portuguese, German, Dutch, Swedish and Turkish. Her most recent novel, No es un río (This is not a River) has just been published in Argentina (2020). Brickmakers is her third book to appear in English and is being published in collaboration with Graywolf Press, US.
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April 16, 2025
Read April 2020
Longlisted for Best Translated Book Award 2020
It is the first time I hear about the BTBA and I decided to read as much as I can from the longlist. Due to my other “engagements” I only managed two audiobooks, this being one of them. Although the short novel was not shortlisted, I am glad I listened to it.
To start, I will say a few words about Charco Press, the publisher. They are a small independent press from Edinburgh specialized in South American literature. They only publish 6 novels per year but the quality is very high. They have two nominees for this prize, one book shortlisted for the International Booker Prize and the list goes on. I highly recommend checking them out.
Selva Amada, the author, is an Argentinian woman who wrote non-fiction, poetry, short stories, and novels. I believe The Wind that Lays Waste is the first translation of her work in English. The book circles around four characters (and a dog) who meet by chance somewhere in the Argentinian pampas. Reverend Pearson is a Protestant evangelical preacher who travels with his daughter, Leni, across the country to “wash dirty souls, to make them sparkling clean again". When their car breaks down, they reach the workshop of Gringo Brauer and his young assistant, Tapioca.
The two men seem opposites at first but by the end it proves that both can create destruction and hurt with their beliefs. The reverend is a fervent fanatic for his church, unyielding in his mission to save people’s souls from damnation. He is inflexible, considering that the way of the church is the only correct way. One the other hand, the ageing Gringo is cynical, has not time for religion and believes that actions make a person good or bad. Leni blames her father for abandoning her mother and for wasting her childhood. Tapioca was left by his mother in the care of the Gringo and the reverend gets the idea that Tapioca is one of the few unspoiled souls in the world and develops a strong urge to save him and teach him the ways of God, entering thus in conflict with the other man.
At first, the novel is quiet but it becomes more intense as a storm is approaching and the relationship between the four people deteriorates and conflict builds. At first glance, the novel’s plot is very simple but it grew on me. Even if the author was impartial toward the two men and I don't think it encourages the reader to take sides. Since extreme believers make me very angry and my skin to crawl it was difficult for me to be impartial.
Longlisted for Best Translated Book Award 2020
It is the first time I hear about the BTBA and I decided to read as much as I can from the longlist. Due to my other “engagements” I only managed two audiobooks, this being one of them. Although the short novel was not shortlisted, I am glad I listened to it.
To start, I will say a few words about Charco Press, the publisher. They are a small independent press from Edinburgh specialized in South American literature. They only publish 6 novels per year but the quality is very high. They have two nominees for this prize, one book shortlisted for the International Booker Prize and the list goes on. I highly recommend checking them out.
Selva Amada, the author, is an Argentinian woman who wrote non-fiction, poetry, short stories, and novels. I believe The Wind that Lays Waste is the first translation of her work in English. The book circles around four characters (and a dog) who meet by chance somewhere in the Argentinian pampas. Reverend Pearson is a Protestant evangelical preacher who travels with his daughter, Leni, across the country to “wash dirty souls, to make them sparkling clean again". When their car breaks down, they reach the workshop of Gringo Brauer and his young assistant, Tapioca.
The two men seem opposites at first but by the end it proves that both can create destruction and hurt with their beliefs. The reverend is a fervent fanatic for his church, unyielding in his mission to save people’s souls from damnation. He is inflexible, considering that the way of the church is the only correct way. One the other hand, the ageing Gringo is cynical, has not time for religion and believes that actions make a person good or bad. Leni blames her father for abandoning her mother and for wasting her childhood. Tapioca was left by his mother in the care of the Gringo and the reverend gets the idea that Tapioca is one of the few unspoiled souls in the world and develops a strong urge to save him and teach him the ways of God, entering thus in conflict with the other man.
At first, the novel is quiet but it becomes more intense as a storm is approaching and the relationship between the four people deteriorates and conflict builds. At first glance, the novel’s plot is very simple but it grew on me. Even if the author was impartial toward the two men and I don't think it encourages the reader to take sides. Since extreme believers make me very angry and my skin to crawl it was difficult for me to be impartial.
January 29, 2022
This novel is small in scale--just four characters, on a single day--but in spite of its small scale, it's full of human experience. With just a few perfectly chosen details Almada sets a scene, and reveals her characters' imperfections and humanity. I could see this place. I could see these people.
This is a very quiet book. The writing is extremely disciplined. There isn't a single unnecessary word. After having read many baggy monsters in a row recently, reading Almada's short novel felt like an encounter with a miniature perfection. I'm very happy to have read it.
This is a very quiet book. The writing is extremely disciplined. There isn't a single unnecessary word. After having read many baggy monsters in a row recently, reading Almada's short novel felt like an encounter with a miniature perfection. I'm very happy to have read it.
November 9, 2020
Only four characters appear in this novel by an Argentinian woman author. Two are men and both are known as ‘gringos’ because of their non-Spanish names (Pearson and Brauer), although both are Spanish-speaking and both were born in Argentina. One is a traveling evangelical preacher; the other is an auto mechanic.
The preacher has a 16-year-old girl who has spent most of her life in constant travel with her father in an old car, staying in cheap motels. The mechanic also has a 16-year old employee who lives with him. The girl also barely recalls her mother.
The setting is a stark, god-forsaken rural cotton-growing north of Rosario. The area is so isolated that when the boy and the Gringo look at road maps, the mechanic has to explain to the boy what a bridge is – he’s never seen one.
The travelers meet the mechanic when their car breaks down. It takes a couple of days to fix it during which a fierce wind and rainstorm rages. The mechanic has no interest in religion. The preacher is a charismatic in-your-face type, “Jesus this, Jesus that.’ He lets people kiss his feet at his performances and bites black things off of people’s clothing that he says represent the devil. He can’t tell his daughter he loves her without saying “Jesus has blessed me with you’ and she thinks “He always had to get Jesus in there, between them.” She’s 16, so of course, she’s ready to rebel against all this Jesus stuff. She recites Bible verse to poke fun at it and acts skeptical of the whole thing.
The boy has no knowledge of God and dropped out of grade school. The preacher sees him as a ‘pure spirit’ and wants to take the boy with him when they leave to start converting him and train him as a preacher. The tension builds and these conflicting ideas take center stage while they are confined in a cabin waiting for the car to be fixed and for the storm to end.
It’s a good, quick read. Only about 110 pages, so it’s really a novella. This story would make a good play. (Actually, it’s been made into an opera in Argentina.)
The author (b. 1973) has written plays, short stories and non-fiction as well as a half-dozen novels. This novel, The Wind, was her first. Only one other, Dead Girls, seems to have been translated into English so far.
Photo of cotton country near Rosario from efarmnewsar.com
Rural shacks in Argentina from mcgill.ca
The author from glanacion.com
The preacher has a 16-year-old girl who has spent most of her life in constant travel with her father in an old car, staying in cheap motels. The mechanic also has a 16-year old employee who lives with him. The girl also barely recalls her mother.
The setting is a stark, god-forsaken rural cotton-growing north of Rosario. The area is so isolated that when the boy and the Gringo look at road maps, the mechanic has to explain to the boy what a bridge is – he’s never seen one.
The travelers meet the mechanic when their car breaks down. It takes a couple of days to fix it during which a fierce wind and rainstorm rages. The mechanic has no interest in religion. The preacher is a charismatic in-your-face type, “Jesus this, Jesus that.’ He lets people kiss his feet at his performances and bites black things off of people’s clothing that he says represent the devil. He can’t tell his daughter he loves her without saying “Jesus has blessed me with you’ and she thinks “He always had to get Jesus in there, between them.” She’s 16, so of course, she’s ready to rebel against all this Jesus stuff. She recites Bible verse to poke fun at it and acts skeptical of the whole thing.
The boy has no knowledge of God and dropped out of grade school. The preacher sees him as a ‘pure spirit’ and wants to take the boy with him when they leave to start converting him and train him as a preacher. The tension builds and these conflicting ideas take center stage while they are confined in a cabin waiting for the car to be fixed and for the storm to end.
It’s a good, quick read. Only about 110 pages, so it’s really a novella. This story would make a good play. (Actually, it’s been made into an opera in Argentina.)
The author (b. 1973) has written plays, short stories and non-fiction as well as a half-dozen novels. This novel, The Wind, was her first. Only one other, Dead Girls, seems to have been translated into English so far.
Photo of cotton country near Rosario from efarmnewsar.com
Rural shacks in Argentina from mcgill.ca
The author from glanacion.com
July 13, 2019
Evangelical Preacher Pearson felt "his mission on earth was to wash dirty souls, to make them sparkling clean again...". "It never mattered...whether his stage was...a city temple...an old cinema,...or a storehouse with whitewashed walls...he preferred the dusty roads...and people abandoned...". His traveling companion was his sixteen year old daughter, Leni. "Thanks to her father...and his holy mission, all she could remember was the inside of the same old car, crummy rooms...of indistinguishable hotels...and a mother whose face she could hardly recall."
Reverend Pearson's car broke down in the Argentinian countryside on a deserted road..."a place that seemed to have been completely forsaken by humans". A Good Samaritan towed the car to El Gringo Brauer's makeshift building which consisted of a gas station, car repair shop and home. He assured Pearson that the car would be fixed by day's end.
Gringo respected the natural world. "A man could learn all he needed to know just by watching...you could learn to hear and see what nature had to tell and show." This wisdom is what he imparted to Tapioca, eight years old, left in his care after having been abandoned by his mother. Tapioca was most interested in "the heap of old cars...he would spend all day among the car bodies...with three or four dogs as copilots". Tapioca, now sixteen, was Gringo's assistant.
The stage is set. The interaction between these four principals plays out over the course of one single day that culminates in a severe, menacing thunderstorm. The discourse parallels the sweltering heat and morphs into a torrential downpour of rain and stormy words. The storm's power cannot be denied.
"The Wind That Lays Waste" by Selva Almada is a fascinating window into the thoughts and beliefs of two adults and two sheltered teens in Almada's non-judgmental novel. The verbal exchanges between characters was, at times, intense. I highly recommend this tome!
Reverend Pearson's car broke down in the Argentinian countryside on a deserted road..."a place that seemed to have been completely forsaken by humans". A Good Samaritan towed the car to El Gringo Brauer's makeshift building which consisted of a gas station, car repair shop and home. He assured Pearson that the car would be fixed by day's end.
Gringo respected the natural world. "A man could learn all he needed to know just by watching...you could learn to hear and see what nature had to tell and show." This wisdom is what he imparted to Tapioca, eight years old, left in his care after having been abandoned by his mother. Tapioca was most interested in "the heap of old cars...he would spend all day among the car bodies...with three or four dogs as copilots". Tapioca, now sixteen, was Gringo's assistant.
The stage is set. The interaction between these four principals plays out over the course of one single day that culminates in a severe, menacing thunderstorm. The discourse parallels the sweltering heat and morphs into a torrential downpour of rain and stormy words. The storm's power cannot be denied.
"The Wind That Lays Waste" by Selva Almada is a fascinating window into the thoughts and beliefs of two adults and two sheltered teens in Almada's non-judgmental novel. The verbal exchanges between characters was, at times, intense. I highly recommend this tome!
October 26, 2021
Charco Press is perhaps my favourite small UK press – they focus on “finding outstanding contemporary Latin American literature and bringing it to new readers in the English-speaking world”. I have read all 12 of their previous novels.
Their 2017/early 2018 set of 5 novels were all by Argentinian authors – but diverse both in authorship, style and form: a deliberate decision by Charco who wanted to counteract any pigeon-holing of books from one country as being of a certain type.
Their 2018 set by contrast featured authors from five different countries (Colombia, Argentina, Peru, Uruguay and Brazil) – the last three auto-fictional in nature.
2019 brings adds two new countries to the list – Mexico and Guatemala – this book like their last publication is a return to their Argentinian roots – but with a new author Selva Almada, this book, translated in what seems a very natural way by Chris Andrews, is the first of her works to be published in English.
The book is a novella (114 pages) and I think best read (like I did) in a single sitting to reflect the book’s setting over a single day and single location – a car workshop in the wilds of North Argentina.
The book has four main third party point of view characters (plus rather oddly a dog who takes over the PoV at one stage).
Reverend Pearson is a Protestant evangelical preacher – talented and inspiring in his preaching, but also unwavering and genuine in his Christian beliefs, faith and optimism about God’s intervention. His mother (and sometimes he suspects even his church) see his preaching as a means to winning status and funds – but for him it is about winning souls for Christ. He is on a road trip with his 16 year old daughter Leni – she has never really forgiven him for his deliberate abandonment of her mother years previously and for what she sees as her lost childhood following him on his itinerant calling. She “admired the Reverend deeply but disapproved of everything her father did. As if he were two different people”.
When their car breaks down it is towed to the workshop of Gringo Brauer – almost the opposite of Pearson - ageing, cynical, and run-down in body and spirit. His assistant – a simple 16 year old boy Tapioca, was left with him by an old lover who claimed he was Brauer’s son.
The book is effectively an examination of the dynamics between the four (I will pass over Yellow the Dog’s interactions) – Pearson and Tapioca make an immediate connection, the boy is excited by the Reverend’s evangelism, and the latter sees Tapioca as effectively an uncorrupted soul, not hampered by the past sins which still weigh on his own conscience, but this leads to a clash with Brauer, observed by Pearson’s sceptical daughter.
The weather matches the dynamics of the relationships – first of all the languid heat reflects the way in which the protagonists wearily test their interactions, but pressure builds up, before a tumultuous downpour then accompanies (and even encourages) a stormy confrontation between the two older men, before an uneasy resolution both to the weather and the characters fates.
I found this a relatively straightforward telling – possibly deceptively simple. Clearly the writing has power and my favorite part of the book was the way in which the author does not bring any judgement or favour to bear: given the clear bias of most literary fiction against organised religion (particularly Christianity - and a bias which I think the author shares), I kept expecting Pearson to be exposed or ridiculed and was pleased to be disappointed.
Another good book from Charco.
Their 2017/early 2018 set of 5 novels were all by Argentinian authors – but diverse both in authorship, style and form: a deliberate decision by Charco who wanted to counteract any pigeon-holing of books from one country as being of a certain type.
Their 2018 set by contrast featured authors from five different countries (Colombia, Argentina, Peru, Uruguay and Brazil) – the last three auto-fictional in nature.
2019 brings adds two new countries to the list – Mexico and Guatemala – this book like their last publication is a return to their Argentinian roots – but with a new author Selva Almada, this book, translated in what seems a very natural way by Chris Andrews, is the first of her works to be published in English.
The book is a novella (114 pages) and I think best read (like I did) in a single sitting to reflect the book’s setting over a single day and single location – a car workshop in the wilds of North Argentina.
The book has four main third party point of view characters (plus rather oddly a dog who takes over the PoV at one stage).
Reverend Pearson is a Protestant evangelical preacher – talented and inspiring in his preaching, but also unwavering and genuine in his Christian beliefs, faith and optimism about God’s intervention. His mother (and sometimes he suspects even his church) see his preaching as a means to winning status and funds – but for him it is about winning souls for Christ. He is on a road trip with his 16 year old daughter Leni – she has never really forgiven him for his deliberate abandonment of her mother years previously and for what she sees as her lost childhood following him on his itinerant calling. She “admired the Reverend deeply but disapproved of everything her father did. As if he were two different people”.
When their car breaks down it is towed to the workshop of Gringo Brauer – almost the opposite of Pearson - ageing, cynical, and run-down in body and spirit. His assistant – a simple 16 year old boy Tapioca, was left with him by an old lover who claimed he was Brauer’s son.
The book is effectively an examination of the dynamics between the four (I will pass over Yellow the Dog’s interactions) – Pearson and Tapioca make an immediate connection, the boy is excited by the Reverend’s evangelism, and the latter sees Tapioca as effectively an uncorrupted soul, not hampered by the past sins which still weigh on his own conscience, but this leads to a clash with Brauer, observed by Pearson’s sceptical daughter.
The weather matches the dynamics of the relationships – first of all the languid heat reflects the way in which the protagonists wearily test their interactions, but pressure builds up, before a tumultuous downpour then accompanies (and even encourages) a stormy confrontation between the two older men, before an uneasy resolution both to the weather and the characters fates.
I found this a relatively straightforward telling – possibly deceptively simple. Clearly the writing has power and my favorite part of the book was the way in which the author does not bring any judgement or favour to bear: given the clear bias of most literary fiction against organised religion (particularly Christianity - and a bias which I think the author shares), I kept expecting Pearson to be exposed or ridiculed and was pleased to be disappointed.
Another good book from Charco.
March 11, 2023
Un libro tranquilo, con un ritmo lento adormecido por el calor. El ritmo acompaña a los personajes. Acompaña al clima pesado del monte. Incluso cuando llega la tormenta, la trama se sincroniza con el cambio. Ese manejo es admirable.
Confieso que no puedo ser muy objetivo con Selva. Estoy fascinado desde la primera vez que la leí. Sus historias son tan orgánicas que tienen vida propia.
Confieso que no puedo ser muy objetivo con Selva. Estoy fascinado desde la primera vez que la leí. Sus historias son tan orgánicas que tienen vida propia.
August 6, 2016
Ajá.
Entonces...?
Cuéntenme en el grupo de "gente que le gustó cómo está escrito pero se quedó esperando que pasara algo".
Entonces...?
Cuéntenme en el grupo de "gente que le gustó cómo está escrito pero se quedó esperando que pasara algo".
March 1, 2024
داستان بسیار روان است و همانطور که در مقدمه آمده است میتوان آن را در مجالی کوتاه خواند. روایت پیرنگ سادهای دارد و این هنر و چیرهدستی نویسنده را میرساند که توانسته با چنین پیرنگی، داستانی خلق کند که خواننده را تا پایان پای کتاب نگاه دارد. از میان دو کاراکتر اصلی داستان، گرینگو را بیشتر دوست داشتم، شخصیت زلال و سادهای داشت؛ بر خلاف کشیش که از خود راضی و دو رو به نظر میرسید
April 3, 2018
Atemporal y extraña, el mundo de selva almada es muy atractivo. La seguiré leyendo, aunque sea por la curiosidad de el tema que trate en otro libro. Recomendable, y si andan buscando escritores argentinos jóvenes, es una de las buenísimas.
February 16, 2018
Una buena novela, con unas imágenes increíblemente bien construidas, había a ratos que olvidaba que estaba leyendo y me veía dentro de una sala de cine viendo una película. En eso, es brutal la Selva. Brutal.
Un reverendo y su hija quedan varados con el coche descompuesto en medio de la nada en el Chaco, eso es la razón de ser de que conozcan al Gringo y su hijo, Tapioca, o Josemilio, o un chango. Con esta anécdota en apariencia tan simple, Selva se las arma para contar una historia con una pausa bien llevada, quizá un poco demasiado lenta al inicio, pero, que termina por caer con paso firme en el último tercio del libro.
Debo aceptar que toda la verborrea del reverendo me dio náusea, todo su rollo mareador de Dios y su poder, bueno, terminan por joderme, pero, me convencía que “ese” era el personaje; y en ese aspecto, lo siento bien desarrollado, congruente.
Más identificado me sentí con el Gringo, aunque en el extremo opuesto al reverendo; pero, quienes se llevan las palmas son el Tapioca y la Leni, la hija del reverendo.
Novela que habla del abandono, de la media orfandad, de la sequía, de la lluvia que arrasa, del viento que no pide permiso, como la vida, solo llega y tumba o refresca, o da de golpe sin avisar, avisan las nubes, la naturaleza, pero, así como en la vida, no siempre hay refugio que nos proteja.
Insisto, las imágenes son increíbles, el ritmo de la novela tiene su paso, su respiración, y es que en el fondo no es exigente con el lector, te lleva de la mano por donde tienes que ir, se detiene y hace pausa donde así lo dicta la historia, en ese aspecto, Selva es sumamente diestra, su prosa se siente bien pulida, una superficie que no presenta problemas y que te lleva a dar término del libro casi de una sentada, y no, no quiero decir que sea una obra “fácil”, no, tampoco es condescendiente, no, para nada, simplemente hay una narración bien hecha, unos acentos justos en cada parte de la tensión que nos narra, una tensión que estalla poco antes del final y que nos aligera la carga.
Siempre respetaré mucho el uso de los silencios, del silencio, porque siento que es ahí donde muchos escritores pueden fallar, sí, hay que llenar la página, contar, pero, saber hacer callar a los personaje, hacer del narrador una fuerza que te haga detenerte, pensarle un poco, darle vueltas a la historia antes de seguir, eso, se logra con el silencio, donde no hay narración: la historia continua.
Hay una discusión en la novela, medio velada, medio atrasito de lo que trata, entre ser creyente y no serlo, una discusión en la que el Gringo quien es no creyente, hasta dice “dios” en minúscula, y en la cual el reverendo nos deja más que claro por qué siente que los caminos de su Señor son inescrutables, discusión que nos hacen más llevadera los niños y su visión del mundo, un mundo que puede ser encantado fácilmente, donde los monstruos también existen, pero, que con igual facilidad pueden dejar de tener importancia: no hay cielo ni infierno que se compare con ser abrazado por una madre, o el abandono de ella, el alejamiento.
Un reverendo y su hija quedan varados con el coche descompuesto en medio de la nada en el Chaco, eso es la razón de ser de que conozcan al Gringo y su hijo, Tapioca, o Josemilio, o un chango. Con esta anécdota en apariencia tan simple, Selva se las arma para contar una historia con una pausa bien llevada, quizá un poco demasiado lenta al inicio, pero, que termina por caer con paso firme en el último tercio del libro.
Debo aceptar que toda la verborrea del reverendo me dio náusea, todo su rollo mareador de Dios y su poder, bueno, terminan por joderme, pero, me convencía que “ese” era el personaje; y en ese aspecto, lo siento bien desarrollado, congruente.
Más identificado me sentí con el Gringo, aunque en el extremo opuesto al reverendo; pero, quienes se llevan las palmas son el Tapioca y la Leni, la hija del reverendo.
Novela que habla del abandono, de la media orfandad, de la sequía, de la lluvia que arrasa, del viento que no pide permiso, como la vida, solo llega y tumba o refresca, o da de golpe sin avisar, avisan las nubes, la naturaleza, pero, así como en la vida, no siempre hay refugio que nos proteja.
Insisto, las imágenes son increíbles, el ritmo de la novela tiene su paso, su respiración, y es que en el fondo no es exigente con el lector, te lleva de la mano por donde tienes que ir, se detiene y hace pausa donde así lo dicta la historia, en ese aspecto, Selva es sumamente diestra, su prosa se siente bien pulida, una superficie que no presenta problemas y que te lleva a dar término del libro casi de una sentada, y no, no quiero decir que sea una obra “fácil”, no, tampoco es condescendiente, no, para nada, simplemente hay una narración bien hecha, unos acentos justos en cada parte de la tensión que nos narra, una tensión que estalla poco antes del final y que nos aligera la carga.
Siempre respetaré mucho el uso de los silencios, del silencio, porque siento que es ahí donde muchos escritores pueden fallar, sí, hay que llenar la página, contar, pero, saber hacer callar a los personaje, hacer del narrador una fuerza que te haga detenerte, pensarle un poco, darle vueltas a la historia antes de seguir, eso, se logra con el silencio, donde no hay narración: la historia continua.
Hay una discusión en la novela, medio velada, medio atrasito de lo que trata, entre ser creyente y no serlo, una discusión en la que el Gringo quien es no creyente, hasta dice “dios” en minúscula, y en la cual el reverendo nos deja más que claro por qué siente que los caminos de su Señor son inescrutables, discusión que nos hacen más llevadera los niños y su visión del mundo, un mundo que puede ser encantado fácilmente, donde los monstruos también existen, pero, que con igual facilidad pueden dejar de tener importancia: no hay cielo ni infierno que se compare con ser abrazado por una madre, o el abandono de ella, el alejamiento.
December 21, 2023
El viento que arrasa (2012) was the debut novel by Argentine author Selva Almada, although she had previously published poems and short stories, and indeed has said this book started as a short story. (https://evaristocultural.com.ar/2013/...)
It has now been translated by the superb Chris Andrews (also responsible for English version of works by Roberto Bolaño, César Aira and Rodrigo Rey Rosa) as The Wind That Lays Waste, and published by one of the UK's finest presses, Charco Press.
The story, set in Northern Argentina, focuses on four characters - indeed two father-teenage child pairings, and told from each of their perspectives via priviliged third-person narration (with one chapter oddly from the perspective of a dog).
Reverend Pearson is an itinerant Protestant evangelical preacher, travelling with his teenage daughter Leni. We later discover that the Reverend left Leni's mother behind in a town 10 years earlier, when she was a young child.
When their car brakes down, they find themselves spending the day with an ageing mechanic Gringo Brauer, and his ward, a 16 year-old nicknamed Tapioca, left at Brauer's garage 8 years ago by his mother, who claimed he was Brauer's son.
Reverend Pearson is sincere and motivated in his faith:
Once again, he felt that he was an arrow burning with the flame of Christ. And the bow that is drawn to shoot that arrow as far as possible, straight to the spot where the flame will ignite a raging fire. And the wind that spreads the fire that will lay waste to the world with the love of Jesus.
Leni's relationship with the Reverend is complex: she resents her father's diluted affection ... he always had to have Jesus in there, between them, and yet at the same time takes pride in his charismatic preaching while having the usual teenage disdain for him as a father.
Reverend Pearson finds Tapioca to be a pure soul, but ignorant of religion, and starts to talk to him about faith, his words falling on suprisingly welcoming ground, but encountering strong opposition from Brauer who has little time for spiritual matters:
He had no time for lofty thoughts. Religion was for women and the weak. Good and evil were everyday things, things in the world you could reach out and touch. Religion, in his view, was just a way of ignoring responsibilities. Hiding behind God, waiting to be saved, or blaming the Devil for the bad things you do.
He has taught Tapioca to respect the natural world. He believed in the forces of nature. But he had never mentioned God. He could see no reason to talk about something he thought irrelevant.
And the novel plays out, almost cinematically, with tension rising between the two men, against the backdrop of a coming storm. Almada has acknowledged the influence of southern gothic writers, notably Carson McCullers and Flannery O'Connor as well as William Faulkner (for his multiple characters perspectives, albeit Faulkner's are in the first person).
She also acknowledges her debt to Argentine writer, Alberto Laiseca, notably (google translation of the interview linked above): Something that matters to me - this was taught to me by Laiseca - is not to judge my characters, and this is indeed one of the novel's distinctive features. Reverend Pearson's is treated sympathetically - he is no charlatan, he believes what he preaches: such writing about religion is oddly rare in literature, Marilynne Robinson and Neil Griffiths two rare exceptions. But equally the novel does not preach (and Almada herself is not religious), with all four character's perspectives nicely balanced.
Overall, another fascinating South American novel from Charco Press's increasingly impressive list.
It has now been translated by the superb Chris Andrews (also responsible for English version of works by Roberto Bolaño, César Aira and Rodrigo Rey Rosa) as The Wind That Lays Waste, and published by one of the UK's finest presses, Charco Press.
The story, set in Northern Argentina, focuses on four characters - indeed two father-teenage child pairings, and told from each of their perspectives via priviliged third-person narration (with one chapter oddly from the perspective of a dog).
Reverend Pearson is an itinerant Protestant evangelical preacher, travelling with his teenage daughter Leni. We later discover that the Reverend left Leni's mother behind in a town 10 years earlier, when she was a young child.
When their car brakes down, they find themselves spending the day with an ageing mechanic Gringo Brauer, and his ward, a 16 year-old nicknamed Tapioca, left at Brauer's garage 8 years ago by his mother, who claimed he was Brauer's son.
Reverend Pearson is sincere and motivated in his faith:
Once again, he felt that he was an arrow burning with the flame of Christ. And the bow that is drawn to shoot that arrow as far as possible, straight to the spot where the flame will ignite a raging fire. And the wind that spreads the fire that will lay waste to the world with the love of Jesus.
Leni's relationship with the Reverend is complex: she resents her father's diluted affection ... he always had to have Jesus in there, between them, and yet at the same time takes pride in his charismatic preaching while having the usual teenage disdain for him as a father.
Reverend Pearson finds Tapioca to be a pure soul, but ignorant of religion, and starts to talk to him about faith, his words falling on suprisingly welcoming ground, but encountering strong opposition from Brauer who has little time for spiritual matters:
He had no time for lofty thoughts. Religion was for women and the weak. Good and evil were everyday things, things in the world you could reach out and touch. Religion, in his view, was just a way of ignoring responsibilities. Hiding behind God, waiting to be saved, or blaming the Devil for the bad things you do.
He has taught Tapioca to respect the natural world. He believed in the forces of nature. But he had never mentioned God. He could see no reason to talk about something he thought irrelevant.
And the novel plays out, almost cinematically, with tension rising between the two men, against the backdrop of a coming storm. Almada has acknowledged the influence of southern gothic writers, notably Carson McCullers and Flannery O'Connor as well as William Faulkner (for his multiple characters perspectives, albeit Faulkner's are in the first person).
She also acknowledges her debt to Argentine writer, Alberto Laiseca, notably (google translation of the interview linked above): Something that matters to me - this was taught to me by Laiseca - is not to judge my characters, and this is indeed one of the novel's distinctive features. Reverend Pearson's is treated sympathetically - he is no charlatan, he believes what he preaches: such writing about religion is oddly rare in literature, Marilynne Robinson and Neil Griffiths two rare exceptions. But equally the novel does not preach (and Almada herself is not religious), with all four character's perspectives nicely balanced.
Overall, another fascinating South American novel from Charco Press's increasingly impressive list.
December 7, 2023
از اون چیزی فکر میکردم ضعیفتر بود. شخصیت ها کاریکاتوری بودند و ترجمه غبرایی هم واقعا بد بود.
February 7, 2024
The Wind That Lays Waste - Selva Almada
تتقطع السبل بقسٍّ وابنته المراهقة في الصحراء بسبب تعطل سيارتهما ويجدان نفسيهما في ضيافة رجل و"ابنه" الذي يساعده في إصلاح السيارات، ومن هنا تتشابك مصائر الشخصيات الأربعة وتتصادم أفكارهم في خضم صيف لاهب وعاصفة على الأبواب.
نوفيلا فلسفية وغنية بالتفاصيل.
~
فجر الأربعاء السادس والعشرين من رجب - 1445 هـ.
تتقطع السبل بقسٍّ وابنته المراهقة في الصحراء بسبب تعطل سيارتهما ويجدان نفسيهما في ضيافة رجل و"ابنه" الذي يساعده في إصلاح السيارات، ومن هنا تتشابك مصائر الشخصيات الأربعة وتتصادم أفكارهم في خضم صيف لاهب وعاصفة على الأبواب.
نوفيلا فلسفية وغنية بالتفاصيل.
~
فجر الأربعاء السادس والعشرين من رجب - 1445 هـ.
January 14, 2021
The Wind That Lays Waste by Selva Almada, translated from the Spanish by Chris Andrews, is a short novel with a deceptively simple plot where it seems as if very little happens. The narrative describes the events of a single day.
Reverend Pearson, an evangelical preacher, is traveling across rural Argentina preaching the word of God to whoever is willing to listen. He travels with his daughter, Leni. After their car breaks down on a deserted highway, they are towed to the workshop of Gringo Brauer, a mechanic. Gringo lives with his assistant, a young boy named Tapioca.
While Gringo struggles to fix the reverend’s car, the characters interact with each other, gradually revealing intimate details about their lives and vulnerabilities. The two teenagers are both motherless. Leni has vague memories of her father abandoning her mother on the side of a road. Tapioca can barely remember his mother. She abandoned him with Gringo, claiming that he is the boy’s father. The reverend is fixated on saving souls and sets his eye on Tapioca as a suitable candidate for salvation. Gringo dismisses organized religion, believing nature is the best teacher and that a person’s action is all that matters. The tension gradually and imperceptibly builds between the two adults, culminating in a climax that coincides with a fierce thunder storm and torrential rain.
Almada has crafted a very tightly structured, taut novel where every word tells. Her prose is simple, direct, and lucid. She conveys the complexity of her characters, the dynamics of their relationships, their inner conflicts and flashbacks, and she does it all in language that is sparse but effective. Her images evoke a strong atmosphere—from the graveyard of broken cars and jagged metal paraphernalia, the sweat-stained clothes and sticky bodies, the stunted trees and thirsty soil, Gringo’s bouts of convulsive coughing, and Leni silently watching the two men fight as tears roll down her face.
This is a wonderful story, skillfully executed in vivid imagery and concise diction. The narrative is deceptively simple but it packs a powerful punch.
Highly recommended.
My book reviews are also available at www.tamaraaghajaffar.com
Reverend Pearson, an evangelical preacher, is traveling across rural Argentina preaching the word of God to whoever is willing to listen. He travels with his daughter, Leni. After their car breaks down on a deserted highway, they are towed to the workshop of Gringo Brauer, a mechanic. Gringo lives with his assistant, a young boy named Tapioca.
While Gringo struggles to fix the reverend’s car, the characters interact with each other, gradually revealing intimate details about their lives and vulnerabilities. The two teenagers are both motherless. Leni has vague memories of her father abandoning her mother on the side of a road. Tapioca can barely remember his mother. She abandoned him with Gringo, claiming that he is the boy’s father. The reverend is fixated on saving souls and sets his eye on Tapioca as a suitable candidate for salvation. Gringo dismisses organized religion, believing nature is the best teacher and that a person’s action is all that matters. The tension gradually and imperceptibly builds between the two adults, culminating in a climax that coincides with a fierce thunder storm and torrential rain.
Almada has crafted a very tightly structured, taut novel where every word tells. Her prose is simple, direct, and lucid. She conveys the complexity of her characters, the dynamics of their relationships, their inner conflicts and flashbacks, and she does it all in language that is sparse but effective. Her images evoke a strong atmosphere—from the graveyard of broken cars and jagged metal paraphernalia, the sweat-stained clothes and sticky bodies, the stunted trees and thirsty soil, Gringo’s bouts of convulsive coughing, and Leni silently watching the two men fight as tears roll down her face.
This is a wonderful story, skillfully executed in vivid imagery and concise diction. The narrative is deceptively simple but it packs a powerful punch.
Highly recommended.
My book reviews are also available at www.tamaraaghajaffar.com
March 15, 2023
Selva Almada drew me into a passionate fugue-like world of extremes. While i read this there was nowhere else. This tiny bit of dirt held everything that matters. I found I desperately cared about the characters, could see their futures and their pasts so clearly, and wanted...what? Some benign power to show them all kindness?
Set in a very rural - almost deserted - part of dusty Argentina. A peripatetic, self-righteous, Evangelical preacher, full of spiritual hubris, fanaticism, and absolute certainty is traveling with his teenage daughter. She notes (to herself) that whatever “Jesus willed” also happened to be what her father willed; nonetheless, she becomes enthralled as he preaches, his sermons culminating with him biting the evil out of some congregant (literally). She half wishes he’d bite out hers.
They break down, needing the car repaired. The isolated repair shop is run by a crusty naturalist sort and a teenage boy who may be his son. Until now, their spirituality had been entirely devoid of fear and guilt; built around listening to the forest, caring for animals, naturally learning right from wrong.
As the difficult repair, followed by a dramatic storm necessitates the delay of departure, beliefs clash and a Solomonic choice is made.
Absolutely beautiful.
Set in a very rural - almost deserted - part of dusty Argentina. A peripatetic, self-righteous, Evangelical preacher, full of spiritual hubris, fanaticism, and absolute certainty is traveling with his teenage daughter. She notes (to herself) that whatever “Jesus willed” also happened to be what her father willed; nonetheless, she becomes enthralled as he preaches, his sermons culminating with him biting the evil out of some congregant (literally). She half wishes he’d bite out hers.
They break down, needing the car repaired. The isolated repair shop is run by a crusty naturalist sort and a teenage boy who may be his son. Until now, their spirituality had been entirely devoid of fear and guilt; built around listening to the forest, caring for animals, naturally learning right from wrong.
As the difficult repair, followed by a dramatic storm necessitates the delay of departure, beliefs clash and a Solomonic choice is made.
Absolutely beautiful.
November 5, 2019
¿El libro del año? Pues debió ser un año muy malo...
Más que una novela, "El viento que arrasa" es un cuento inflado con pasajes innecesarios y tipografía generosa. Su punto más fuerte es la propuesta: los cuatro personajes y sus simetrías, el conflicto, la unidad de tiempo y espacio. Pero ninguno de estos aspectos resulta a fin de cuentas demasiado interesante. Los personajes, por ejemplo, son demasiado transparentes; sus motivaciones y actitudes están siempre explicitadas. Sus voces, otra de las supuestas virtudes de la novela, son bastante irregulares: aparecen palabras, diálogos, con poca naturalidad (del tipo "este lugar apesta, padre"). Por momentos casi se llega a la caricatura. Hablar como el Gringo es repetir "chango" en cada oración; hablar como el Reverendo es terminar cada frase con "alabado sea Jesús", o algo por el estilo.
No sólo los diálogos. En todo el libro el nivel de la escritura es apenas aceptable. La prosa de Almada puede ser "fuerte, segura y potente", como asegura la contratapa, o simplemente obtusa. Claro que la sencillez no es siempre un defecto, pero en este caso hay errores inexcusables, palabras rimadas, sobreabundancia de gerundios, y muchos pifies en la conjugación de los verbos. Los pasajes que intentan ser un poco más poéticos coquetean con la cursilería. "Agua cayendo de sus ojos como agua caía del cielo. Lluvia perdida entre la lluvia." ¿En serio? Me quedo con el monólogo de Hauer en Blade Runner. También los sermones del Reverendo, intercalados entre algunos capítulos, son completamente banales. El conocimiento de la religión es muy superficial.
No habrá sido tampoco el peor libro del año. Pero para equilibrar un poco la sobrevaloración de la crítica...
Más que una novela, "El viento que arrasa" es un cuento inflado con pasajes innecesarios y tipografía generosa. Su punto más fuerte es la propuesta: los cuatro personajes y sus simetrías, el conflicto, la unidad de tiempo y espacio. Pero ninguno de estos aspectos resulta a fin de cuentas demasiado interesante. Los personajes, por ejemplo, son demasiado transparentes; sus motivaciones y actitudes están siempre explicitadas. Sus voces, otra de las supuestas virtudes de la novela, son bastante irregulares: aparecen palabras, diálogos, con poca naturalidad (del tipo "este lugar apesta, padre"). Por momentos casi se llega a la caricatura. Hablar como el Gringo es repetir "chango" en cada oración; hablar como el Reverendo es terminar cada frase con "alabado sea Jesús", o algo por el estilo.
No sólo los diálogos. En todo el libro el nivel de la escritura es apenas aceptable. La prosa de Almada puede ser "fuerte, segura y potente", como asegura la contratapa, o simplemente obtusa. Claro que la sencillez no es siempre un defecto, pero en este caso hay errores inexcusables, palabras rimadas, sobreabundancia de gerundios, y muchos pifies en la conjugación de los verbos. Los pasajes que intentan ser un poco más poéticos coquetean con la cursilería. "Agua cayendo de sus ojos como agua caía del cielo. Lluvia perdida entre la lluvia." ¿En serio? Me quedo con el monólogo de Hauer en Blade Runner. También los sermones del Reverendo, intercalados entre algunos capítulos, son completamente banales. El conocimiento de la religión es muy superficial.
No habrá sido tampoco el peor libro del año. Pero para equilibrar un poco la sobrevaloración de la crítica...
June 27, 2023
A beautifully written, succinct and quiet short novel translated from the Spanish. Four characters, a single day. An evangelical preacher and his teenage daughter, Leni, are on the road in Northern Argentina when their car breaks down. They are assisted by a mechanic called Gringo Brauer and the young man he employs and has been raising, Tapioca. There are tensions between the Reverend and his more cynical daughter, and the Reverend takes a special interest in converting young Tapioca, creating additional tensions with Gringo. There is also a storm in the offing.
Not a word wasted, but yet each character was three-dimensional and fully fleshed out, depicted with sympathy and without judgment. There was also a single jewel of a little chapter from the perspective of a yellow dog, which could have been a story on its own. In some ways very cinematic in that I could readily picture the events and the surroundings, but my other senses were fully engaged too. Really, really good.
“Once again, he felt that he was an arrow burning with the flame of Christ. And the bow that is drawn to shoot that arrow as far as possible, straight to the spot where the flame will ignite a raging fire. And the wind that spreads the fire that will lay waste to the world with the love of Jesus.”
Not a word wasted, but yet each character was three-dimensional and fully fleshed out, depicted with sympathy and without judgment. There was also a single jewel of a little chapter from the perspective of a yellow dog, which could have been a story on its own. In some ways very cinematic in that I could readily picture the events and the surroundings, but my other senses were fully engaged too. Really, really good.
“Once again, he felt that he was an arrow burning with the flame of Christ. And the bow that is drawn to shoot that arrow as far as possible, straight to the spot where the flame will ignite a raging fire. And the wind that spreads the fire that will lay waste to the world with the love of Jesus.”
October 29, 2020
Wow.
La escritura de este libro es un lujo. Un relojito narrativo.
La escritura de este libro es un lujo. Un relojito narrativo.
September 4, 2022
There's a small ensemble cast here, four people only, except for flashback scenes where two different mothers appear, vaguely. Reverend Pearson, an itinerant preacher, is driving with his daughter Leni when they have car trouble. They stop at a repair shop. Gringo Brauer sets to fixing the car. With him is a boy called Tapioca. Might be his son. Gringo is phlegmatic and if not exactly an atheist, is certainly anti-religion. Pearson gets it in his mind that he is destined to save Tapioca's soul. There you have it.
This could be a play, except for the flashbacks, which are not unimportant. A set piece, anyhow, which had a feel of Steinbeck's The Wayward Bus. The "action" takes place in northern Argentina, but I know that from the linear notes, not from the story itself. I put action in quotes because there's not a lot of it, but also because the dialogue itself is the action. The author has a gift for it, and maybe that's why I said this could be a play.
----- ----- ----- -----
There are the customary ways of selecting the next book we will read: a bookstore find, a favorite author, word of mouth, an advertisement, a review, Booker lists, a personal theme. But also a publisher. There are, for example, plenty of nyrb-classics fetishists here on Goodreads, as well as those led by Oxford Classics, the Northwestern University European Classics, and those blue or white Fitzcarraldos.
This is the third book in a very short time that I have read from the CHARCO PRESS, a Scottish publisher focusing on contemporary Latin American literature. I'll be staying here for awhile.
This could be a play, except for the flashbacks, which are not unimportant. A set piece, anyhow, which had a feel of Steinbeck's The Wayward Bus. The "action" takes place in northern Argentina, but I know that from the linear notes, not from the story itself. I put action in quotes because there's not a lot of it, but also because the dialogue itself is the action. The author has a gift for it, and maybe that's why I said this could be a play.
----- ----- ----- -----
There are the customary ways of selecting the next book we will read: a bookstore find, a favorite author, word of mouth, an advertisement, a review, Booker lists, a personal theme. But also a publisher. There are, for example, plenty of nyrb-classics fetishists here on Goodreads, as well as those led by Oxford Classics, the Northwestern University European Classics, and those blue or white Fitzcarraldos.
This is the third book in a very short time that I have read from the CHARCO PRESS, a Scottish publisher focusing on contemporary Latin American literature. I'll be staying here for awhile.
December 30, 2021
Selva Almada y su tremenda manera de mostrarnos el mundo interno de sus personajes a la vez que entrecruza sus historias y las convierte en una sola. Me falta "No es un río" para terminar su trilogía de varones. Impecable.
January 27, 2020
I am SO HAPPY I stumbled across @charcopress and they were kind enough to send me a few of their translated titles for #LostInTranslations2020! I spent a few quiet hours yesterday with the slim but powerful novel The Wind That Lays Waste by Selva Almada, translated from Spanish by Chris Andrews.
.
It’s only 110 pages, but the characters from this book will stick with me, as will Almada’s confident prose and Andrews’ incredibly smooth translation - seriously, this book was a joy to read. It’s the encounter of an evangelical priest and his teenage daughter travelling across Northern Argentina whose paths cross with a cynical mechanic and his idealistic assistant when their car breaks down before a storm.
.
I loved reading the interactions between these four characters, all very different with their own beliefs and histories, culminating in a scene crackling with tension as the storm finally breaks over the drought-ridden lands.
.
Almada’s descriptions of the landscape were stunning. I love books where you can smell the rain, feel the caked dust the characters are coated in, hear the haunting howls of the dogs before a storm. I was entranced by her evocative prose, my only complaint is that I wish it had been longer.
.
This author has another novel being translated into English this year, a combination of journalism and fiction as she explores the issue of femicide in Argentina and I already know it will be brilliant. Can’t wait, and thank you again @charcopress!
.
It’s only 110 pages, but the characters from this book will stick with me, as will Almada’s confident prose and Andrews’ incredibly smooth translation - seriously, this book was a joy to read. It’s the encounter of an evangelical priest and his teenage daughter travelling across Northern Argentina whose paths cross with a cynical mechanic and his idealistic assistant when their car breaks down before a storm.
.
I loved reading the interactions between these four characters, all very different with their own beliefs and histories, culminating in a scene crackling with tension as the storm finally breaks over the drought-ridden lands.
.
Almada’s descriptions of the landscape were stunning. I love books where you can smell the rain, feel the caked dust the characters are coated in, hear the haunting howls of the dogs before a storm. I was entranced by her evocative prose, my only complaint is that I wish it had been longer.
.
This author has another novel being translated into English this year, a combination of journalism and fiction as she explores the issue of femicide in Argentina and I already know it will be brilliant. Can’t wait, and thank you again @charcopress!
May 16, 2022
Selva Almada escribe demasiado bien y a pesar de que conecté con los personajes y los vi claramente, algo me faltó para que el libro fuera increíble y me dejara con una sensación para la posteridad.
December 7, 2019
La lectura de esta muy buena novela irremediablemente provocaba dos evocaciones: en lo temático y las características de los personajes, el universo ficcional de Juan José Saer; en lo formal, el estilo conciso traía a la memoria al Juan Rulfo de los cuentos. El resultado es muy atractivo, ya que se adecuan la forma y el fondo para presentar una historia pequeña, pero contada con tal sensibilidad y con la sutileza necesaria para que el acercamiento a esos seres vulnerables sea seductor sin que grandes golpes de efecto acudan para sostener la narración. El resultado es un relato austero y melancólico que mantiene el interés siempre, aunque pasan menos cosas (al menos en cuanto a acciones visibles) que las que el lector podría esperar. Precisamente en esa tensión está lo mejor de la novela.
September 30, 2021
No puedo negar que con este libro, Selva Almada ha terminado por cautivarme.
En esta novela corta, Selva, nos vuelve a demostrar su capacidad para narrar imágenes, para hablarnos en un lenguaje tan coloquial y cercano, en sumergirnos en ambientaciones de climas sofocantes, de poblados marginados, con personas comunes y corrientes, pero que padecen incertidumbres, sin distinción.
La introspección psicología varonil, que desarrolla, es algo que me ha gustado desde que la leí con: Intemec, pero, también, esas cotidianidades, eso que es llano, pero, que a todos nos compete como es la vida y la muerte, siempre inevitables.
En esta novela corta, Selva, nos vuelve a demostrar su capacidad para narrar imágenes, para hablarnos en un lenguaje tan coloquial y cercano, en sumergirnos en ambientaciones de climas sofocantes, de poblados marginados, con personas comunes y corrientes, pero que padecen incertidumbres, sin distinción.
La introspección psicología varonil, que desarrolla, es algo que me ha gustado desde que la leí con: Intemec, pero, también, esas cotidianidades, eso que es llano, pero, que a todos nos compete como es la vida y la muerte, siempre inevitables.
November 2, 2023
داستان چیز پیچیده ای نداره! چهار شخصیت اصلی، یک لوکیشن و مکالماتی که بینشون شکل میگیره! اما همین مکالمات دست رو ابعاد مختلفی از شخصیت انسان میذاره! پدر پیرسون، کشیشی که نمادی از آمرین به معروفیه که این روزها بیشتر از هروقت دیگه ای میتونیم ببینیم! لِنی دختر کشیش، که با وجود مخالفت های شدیدی که با پدرش داره اما مجبور به همراهیشه، گرینگو، تعمیرکاری که زندگی رو تقریبا به چپش گرفته و تاپیوکا پسری که وردست گرینگو کار میکنه!
December 12, 2019
Found it interesting to read so many GR reviews after I finished the book where people felt that the story was non-judgemental to its characters & some who think the preacher is shown to be a good person in his faith. Sure, Rev. Pearson seems to have true faith (mostly), but it is mentioned multiple times how he left his wife on the side of the road years before & never looked back; a glaring question mark about his character. The book also shows his manipulation of Gringo Brauer in conversations, approaches taken, etc. I couldn't really trust that Rev. Pearson was fully on the up-and-up throughout the story &, whenever the writing lens was focused on him, I felt wary & suspicious (justified by the end, imo) of his methods & motives.
While the storm was awe-inspiring & beautiful, it also felt a bit heavy, metaphorically-speaking. If it was a religious metaphor, definitely heavy-handed. If it was a nature metaphor of inevitability of things happening that you cannot change, it fits a little more smoothly. Most likely the storm's function was a mix of the two (or more).
The writing is well-crafted & I admire the spareness of the narrative as well as the setting. Some classic themes are covered. Generally, though, it's a book I appreciated more than I enjoyed.
While the storm was awe-inspiring & beautiful, it also felt a bit heavy, metaphorically-speaking. If it was a religious metaphor, definitely heavy-handed. If it was a nature metaphor of inevitability of things happening that you cannot change, it fits a little more smoothly. Most likely the storm's function was a mix of the two (or more).
The writing is well-crafted & I admire the spareness of the narrative as well as the setting. Some classic themes are covered. Generally, though, it's a book I appreciated more than I enjoyed.
June 13, 2023
Set in a barren drought in rural Argentina, a preacher and his daughter’s car breaks down and they find solace in a mechanic and his assistant. The four of them are forced to shelter from a storm together and what becomes of this is a really claustrophobic, awkward and almost gothic look at Argentine evangelism. The preacher is constantly trying to get the mechanic and assistant to join his cause and there is a real tension between the four of them as they get trapped inside the house. I loved the reaction of the two kids to the fights between the two adults and the ending was really strange. It feels like this novel married the Southern Gothic and it’s religious themes with the barren Latin American landscape really well. Excited to read my final Selva Almada book after this one.
July 5, 2023
This short work of literary fiction was written by Argentinian author Selva Almada and was nominated for the BTBA Best Translated Book Award 2000. It takes place over one day in rural Argentina when evangelical Protestant Reverend Pearson, travelling with his teenage daughter Leni, on a mission to “wash dirty souls, to make them sparkling clean again", breaks down and has to wait at the mechanic shop for his car to be repaired. The zealous preacher meets cynical mechanic Gringo Brauer and his assistant Tapioca. The Reverend is taken with the child’s innocence and wants to take him as a convert, leading to tension with Gringo. Lenin’s feelings towards her father are complex, and she cannot move beyond the day her mother was left behind.
This was a well written book, with not much action but cleverly drawn characters and dialogue.
This was a well written book, with not much action but cleverly drawn characters and dialogue.
August 20, 2021
Recorriendo una ruta poco transitada el Pastor Pearson y su familia se detienen en un caserío con un taller a reparar algunos desperfectos del auto. En el paraje, encuentran un tiempo diferente, más lento, solo movido por el viento constante. Y por momentos la vida familiar, imbuida de un espíritu de propósito, parece ser infiltrada por ese espíritu de vivir simplemente el día. Un buen libro. Mientras lo leía, recordaba escenas de la película Bagdad Café, pero sin la música; solo el silencio del viento.
September 5, 2019
Over the span of one day, we glimpse father/children relationships, faith and devotion, all in the northern quiet of the Pampas region of Argentina.
Quiet, but builds in momentum and force over the short span.
Pretty sure this one will continue to grow on me.
Quiet, but builds in momentum and force over the short span.
Pretty sure this one will continue to grow on me.
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