Vicent Usó, Les veus i la boira (Alzira: Bromera, 2015). 352 pages.
The group of islets known as Les
Columbretes between the eastern Valencian coast and the Balearic Islands, together with the
beachside town of Peníscola, are the two main settings for this enticing novel
by Vicent Usó. The title [The Voices and the Mist] is not only a veiled
reference to the novel’s structure but also to the way dreadful stories of
treason and murder are often hidden behind the mists of time, with only human
voices being able, sooner or later, to bring them back to us in the present.
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| Panoramic view of the Columbretes. Photograph by JavierValencia2005. |
Young journalist Mateu Sequeral, comes
across a family mystery going back to the decades after the Spanish Civil War. In
1972 his father, Bernat Sequeral, found to his astonishment that the coffin
where he had always thought contained his mother’s remains was empty. How was
this possible? Who had been lying to him for so many years?
Unheeding many warnings and even
threats, Mateu continues to investigate. There are many more secrets just
waiting to be upturned like stones, the ugly faces of meanness, hatred and
crime revealed. The journalist compiles a wide range of testimonies, some of them as interviews,
others as unsent or indeed mailed letters, yet also manuscripts and newspaper
clippings. The mix is at times dizzying and mystifying, as Usó chooses to
intermingle them without apparently any rhyme or reason. But a reason there is
indeed.
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| "Have you heard about the legendary treasure? Every sailor and fisherman would talk about it in those days. There were those who would joke about it, but some did take it very seriously and believed it and even dreamt of finding it. Corball was one of the latter. When he was ashore he would scrutinise the maps of the island and would look up in ancient books and talk to all sorts of people. He always carried a folder replete with papers and, as soon as he was able, he would jump in a rowboat and started exploring the many caves he could find. It didn't matter to him whether they were on the big island or Ferrera islet or Foradada. He even went to Carallot and explored it. He had explored all of those caves. Each and every one of them. But he never found anything at all." (p. 124, my translation). The Lighthouse on Illa Grossa. Photograph by JavierValencia2005. |
Usó has created a jigsaw puzzle with
many details and information. This might be somewhat demanding for a less
discerning reader, but as the novel keeps piling up detail upon detail and
anecdote upon anecdote, the plot keeps you intrigued, wanting to know more and,
particularly, why.
What at first sight might look like a
maze is not. Usó worked on this novel for close to ten years; the order in
which every chapter and fragment has been set is clearly deliberate. Every step
of the way, even when it takes you back to the 1930s and the dark days of the
Civil War and the disgraceful attack on the POUM (so aptly narrated by Orwell
in Homage to Catalonia), is moving you forward, towards an ending, even
though not a one hundred percent closed one.
Another captivating aspect of the book
lies in the wealth of voices it displays. Usó endows each of his characters
with regional or local idioms and sayings. The many dialects and idiolects of
the Catalan language are on show, and the reader is thankful for it. The only
objection that could be raised has to do with the newspaper clippings, which
despite being from the Francoist era, are written in Catalan. This certainly
weakens the verisimilitude of the story: no newspaper in 1962 would have been
allowed to be published in Catalan. Some progress has been made, no doubt,
since then.
Les veus i
la boira includes some hair-raising episodes, like the summary executions
carried out by the Falangists when they entered Peníscola, or the ghastly
reprisals against family members of their enemies.
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| "... when Franco's troops broke the Republican lines and reached the seaside, the rebellious army units entered Peníscola accompanied by Falangist squads, their eyes burning with hatred. Among them was Jaume Sequeral. The first thing they did was gather all of us who had shown support, as they said, for defending the Republic. They put us all in the municipal jail, and a few days later they tried us all. All of us together. The charges were simply based on the kind of rhetoric full of platitudes: in their view, it had been us who were seditious, traitors, criminals. We were to blame for all the calamities in the world. They did not need evidence or testimonies. A simple report that nobody would bother to verify was enough, if their sources suited them. We were not allowed to defend ourselves.What use would it have been? From the very first moment it became clear to me they did not seek justice but revenge. An exemplary punishment that would make everybody aware of what the new rules were: complete submission to their absolute power. The sort of power that has always been there." (p. 114, my translation). A view of Peníscola: photograph by Gordito1869. |
The stakes are high when a novelist
risks so much by adopting a multi-voice approach to the storytelling. Yet with
Usó, it is a win-win scenario. Not only does the narrative progress at a very
reasonable pace, keeping the reader engrossed in the story; the constant shift
between dialects, idiolects and points of view makes for a vibrant and
entertaining novel. The characters come alive through their peculiar idioms and
sayings. For example, Colauet, the old seaman who reminisces about his love for
teenager Caterina Montaner while recounting the tobacco smuggling operations in
the archipelago.
This is a good, aptly told and
competently constructed story, a rare find. Given its many linguistic nuances
and the various dialectal varieties it offers, it is definitely a great
challenge for a potential translation into any language, too. Quite
commendable.
