14 jun 2020

Vicent Usó's Les veus i la boira: A Review

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.
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.
"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.
"... 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.

12 jun 2020

Uriarra Loop Track - Molonglo y Murrumbidgee

El río Molonglo es un afluente del Murrumbidgee, que a su vez es uno de los más caudalosos afluentes del río Murray, el único río australiano de cierta envergadura, que desemboca en Australia Meridional desde las Montañas Nevadas (the Snowys en el habla popular) del sur de Nueva Gales del Sur tras marcar la frontera entre ese estado y Victoria durante cientos de kilómetros. La confluencia de ambas corrientes tiene lugar al norte del Territorio de la Capital Australiana, esto es, Canberra. El paseo propuesto aquí puede comenzar desde el aparcamiento de Uriarra Crossing a orillas del Murrumbidgee. Un gran parque con varias mesas de picnic, barbacoas (has de llevarte tu propia leña), servicios y mucho espacio para correr, jugar a cricket, tomar el sol en invierno o refugiarse de él bajo las casuarinas en verano, además de refrescar los pies o el cuerpo entero en el río. No hay papeleras ni cubos para la basura, de modo que es necesario recoger tus desperdicios antes de volver a casa.


Del parque este de Uriarra Crossing se sale por la carretera de entrada, en una breve cuesta que lleva a la carretera. Se cruza la carretera y se inicia el descenso hasta el cauce del río Molonglo, En apenas diez minutos se llega a un puente que lo cruza.
Desde allí se puede contemplar el mirador, que es adonde lleva esta parte del sendero. Es una subida exigente pero relativamente corta. No estamos en alta montaña. La senda es estrecha en algunos tramos, cruza un arroyo casi siempre seco y deja a la derecha la planta de tratamiento de aguas residuales, que puede verse en el centro de la fotografía. Desde el mirador uno contempla el Murrimbidgee en su rumbo al norte, antes de que gire al oeste camino de Jugiong y Gundagai.
Ahí debajo Molonglo y Murrumbidgee unen su fuerzas.
El río Murrumbidgee discurre hacia el norte antes de alcanzar el pantano de Burrinjuck. Puede convertirse en un río bravo después de lluvias fuertes. En Gundagai, unos 200 km más al oeste, la población indígena avisó a los colonos de que no debían construir casas cerca del río. En 1852  el pueblo  fue arrasado por el río, y 89 personas perecieron. Hoy en día el pueblo está construido sobre las colinas cercanas.

Cerca del río pueden verse infinidad de madrigueras de wombats, el marsupial típico de los entornos fluviales. Es un animal muy tímido, nocturno y solitario.
De regreso al Molonglo, para completar el círculo el sendero gira a la derecha y remonta una suave cuesta entre rocas. Desde ahí el camino es predominantemente plano y discurre junto a ambos ríos. A diferencia de la vegetación en la subida al mirador, donde abunda el Callitris (ciprés pino australiano), junto al río lo que abunda es la casuarina.
Hay remansos perfectos para estirar las piernas y escuchar el silencio. Uno de ellos en el tramo final del Molonglo.
Un ciprés pino contempla el majestuoso Murrumbidgee, 

El sendero remonta el Murrumbidgee, cruza de nuevo la carretera y tras un giro a la izquierda te devuelve al aparcamiento. Distancia total: aproximadamente 8 kilómetros y medio. Duración: 2 horas. El sendero está bien señalizado y es imposible perderse. Caminante, hay camino.

Posts més visitats/Lo más visto en los últimos 30 días/Most-visited posts in last 30 days

¿Quién escribe? Who writes? Qui escriu?

Mi foto
Ngunnawal land, Australia