Random Things Tours: The Wild Ones by Antonio Ramos Revillas translated by Claire Storey

We are used to associate Mexico either with street violence or with charming beaches with neverending parties. But either as tourists or as consumer of news, we rarely grasp the extent of the daily life of normal people in such places. Especially the ways in which their destinies are made of.

The Wild Ones by Mexican author Antonio Ramos Revillas, translated by Claire Storey - who also translated from Spanish Never Tell Anyone Your Name by Federico Ivaner - is a heartbreaking story of a family living in the hillsides of Monterrey, Mexico. One of the country´s largest agglomerations, with museums, restaurants and shopping malls, it is also home to disadvantaged families, marked only by their address. 

As their mother is arrested for a supposed theft, 15-year old Efrain and his two younger siblings are left alone, helpless. The help comes though from the most unexpected place, the local gang members, but it has a price tag.

Although placed in Mexico, with an obvious local feature, the story of this family resonates with unpriviledged families from all over the world. Without being pathetic or trying to switch to social activism, Revillas, admirably translated by Storey, gives voice to those unheard, but often criticized and stigmatised. A world of violence and drug traffic perpetuated by default, in an environment growing up in the absence of any solid support or a healthy social network. 

I appreciated the frank and open way in which the story is told, avoiding any romanticism or over-emotional compassionate tone. Thus, it allows the individual voices of the characters to be told, telling their story, as it is, not what some may expect to hear.

I will recommend this book to young adults and their parents, as it offers a side of life that explains behaviors and daily realities. A recommended read that I hope to have the chance one day to read in the original Spanish version.

Rating: 4.5 stars

Disclaimer: Book offered as part of the book tour but the opinions are, as usual, my own

´Signs Preceding the End of the World´

 

The refined prose of Signs Preceding the End of the World by Yuri Herrera redefines the border crossing discussion from an average list of things one may have to talk and write to a dimension that reunites human and physical geography. At the end of this beautifully translated book from Spanish by Lisa Dillman I felt sorry for wasting my time reading novels about a relatively similar topic but executed in a very mediocre way. 

The book is very short and follows Makina, a young Mexican girl going ´on the other side´ to find her brother. She is set on an assignment. Every single step of her journey is turning into a mythical upgrade. There are the words and the gestures, the precision of words displaying the details of the crossing, creating the adequate feeling of being a small point in a long chain of circumstances. ´Makina thought she could hear all the water in her body making its way through her skin to the surface´. Makina is actually the best portrayed character in the book but her role is to magnify the details of the borders - not only the preparations to go over and the human peculiarities, but the ways in which the border itself reflects into her humanity. 

I would have love to read this book in its original Spanish and the end of the book has a special section dedicated to how exactly the translation was done, the details and the challenges. I would also love to read not only more by Herrera, but more literature able to explore in full responsibility and with poetic curiosity the world around, especially the border situations. Because border means always more than a random delimitation. 

Rating: 4.5 stars 

A Poetic Mexican Novel: Umami by Laia Jufresa

Discovering more authors from countries not frequently on the top media pages for their literary achievements was part of my NYE resolution. Luckily, a book that I wanted to read for a long time, Umami, by the Mexican Laia Jufresa was my first book in what I hope it will be a long row of interesting bookish discoveries in 2018.

In the Melldrop Mews in Mexico City, there are five houses named: Sour, Bitter, Salty, Sweet and Umami. Their residents are telling their stories of loss, personal struggle, abandonment, loneliness and sense of the ending. A poet by formation, Laia Jufresa whose book I've read in the English translation - although my knowledge of the Spanish language would have allow me to grasp a basic understanding of the book too - creates beautiful stories of deep humanity and moving simplicity. 

The dialogues are built through simple words and colourful description, part of a permanent search for bringing sense and order to the world through words. The way we use the words, with or without translation, and their meanings and sentimental value, is part of a larger investigation about human nature and mortality. This reflection by one of the characters, Marina, dealing with eating disorder, is relevant for the many question marks of the book: '(...) English takes the edges off things, makes them feel less serious, a bit like scribbling mustaches on photos. For example, once translated, the names of her favourite group changed from abstract poetry to random nouns: the cranberries, smashing pumpkins, blind melon, red hot chili peppers, fool's garden'.

Umami, which in my edition was also adorned with a simple yet meaningful cover, is one of those books that you want to keep reading and reading again because you simply forgot where is your real world and where the world of the book is. There are no limits and as in every worthwhile exercise of imagination, you are flying away to colourful worlds painted with words.

I would be very curious to keep discovering this author, eventually by reading some of her poetry, eventually in the original language. 

Rating: 4 stars