It is becoming increasingly rare to come across good novels that exceed the 900-page mark. And even rarer that such novels may capture the reader’s imagination to such an extent as Jaume Cabré’s Jo confesso. This is undoubtedly an ambitious work, very much within the traditionally European line of the all-encompassing novel with a profoundly intellectual substratum.
The protagonist is Adrià Ardèvol, born into an upper-class
Catalan family. He is the only child of a powerful antiques dealer, Félix
Ardèvol. The father, a very strict figure, is bent on forcing Adrià to learn
more than ten languages before he turns 18; as if that were not enough, the
violin is also one of the extracurricular subjects the young Adrià will have to
learn. How about some affection instead of so much knowledge? It is not to be:
Adrià’s mother appears to have little interest in him, and shows hardly any warmth.
However, in the generally busy Ardèvols’ department of his
childhood, Adrià finds nooks and corners where he can hide and listen, or as
Hamlet would put it, be seeing unseen. Two action-hero toys of the 50s, Sheriff
Carson and Black Eagle, the great Arapahoe Chief, accompany Adrià in his
adventures and offer him advice on adult situations he does not comprehend and odd
explanations of words he has never heard before.
The thing is, Adrià is something of a genius. He is enrolled
in an elite religious school despite not having been baptised. It might sound
like a paradox, but it makes perfect sense when we learn of the murky dealings
Félix Ardèvol carried out during the Second World War, obtaining highly valuable
objects from fleeing Holocaust victims first, and later from ex-Nazi officers.
When need is so pressing, the basest offer sometimes will do.
 |
| Modest Urgell, Paisatge. 1655 |
Jo confesso,
however, is much more than the above. It is also a long story about the nature
of human evil, to which the young Adrià will be exposed very early in his life,
when his father is murdered in mysterious circumstances. When Adrià grows up,
he ends up being a distinguished professor who writes many a treatise on the
problem of evil and the history of Western thought, among other subjects. But
Cabré not only intersperses the narrative with lucid reflections on evil – he
interweaves numerous narratives within the main plot led by Adrià. He deserves
recognition for the fact that the mingling narrative lines do not confuse. It
is after all a literary game Cabré plays with flair, although perhaps towards
the end it might be a little overdone. Personally, I would have preferred a
more open ending.
But Jo confesso is
first and foremost the story of a man’s life. As Adrià grows up his world
becomes populated with interesting characters. There is his friendship with
professional violinist and would-be novelist Bernat, with whom he will share
many a confidence. And there is the love story of his relationship with Jewish
French artist Sara Voltes-Epstein. When they were still in their twenties,
their two mothers conspire to break them apart, for reasons unknown to Adrià.
It is only towards the end of the novel that it becomes clear that all of it
was attributable to his father’s murky past. It is then that the novel’s first
sentences make sense: “Until last night, while walking on the wet streets of Vallcarca,
I had never understood that being born into that family of mine had been an
unforgivable mistake. Suddenly I understood that I had always been alone, that
I had never been able to rely upon my parents or upon a God to whom to ask to
find solutions, even though as I grew up I had got accustomed to depend on
imprecise beliefs and various readings for the burden of my thoughts and the
responsibility of my actions.” (p. 13, my translation).
 |
| Confessions: Of how a musical instrument can awaken the most revolting passions in a human being. |
One might think that all these plots and subplots should
already be enough to construct a novel, but there’s more. There is one more
piece in this puzzle: a genuine Storioni, made from the best wood available.
The musical instrument becomes the centrepiece in Cabré’s journey through the
centuries. The violin illustrates the point the author wants to make: how can a
beautifully crafted instrument become an object of greed, malice, ill-will and
bring about the death of so many? Since evil cannot reside in immaterial
objects, where can it come from other than from within humans?
The Storioni, bought illicitly by Adrià’s father at the end
of the Second World War, is obscurely linked with Sara’s family. It will become
the bone of contention between the lovers, and ultimately it will be Bernat who
finds out what happened to the one thing owned by Adrià he would have wished to
own for good.
Cabré’s narrative is anything but conventional. Adrià’s
story is written in the first and the third persons simultaneously, which provides
for interesting angles. The novel is, therefore, not only a confession but also
a self-assessment, where impartiality can only be an aspiration rather than a matter
of fact. Towards the end, Bernat brings in another narrative voice allowing
Cabré to tie up a few loose ends.
Jo confesso has
been a huge editorial success beyond Catalonia, with translations published in fourteen
languages. The English language edition was published by Arcadia Books and translated
by Mara Faye Lethem. This grand novel provides a uniquely candid view of post-war
Barcelona. An enriching, recommendable book.
