Catalan hallucination

Barcelona in the early 2000s is the backdrop for this set of 3 loosely linked novellas. This is not the Barcelona of tourists — Las Ramblas, the bars, the seashore and Gaudi. Rupert Thomson’s stories touch on immigration, racism, migrants, alcoholism, addiction, pornography and more, in a hazy, fantastical rendering.

The first novella, The Giant of Sarria, is narrated by Amy, an Englishwoman who moved to Barcelona at twenty-one for a Spanish lover. The marriage broke up quickly, leaving her with an infant, but now in love with the city.

The quality of the light first thing in the morning, so bright and clear that the buildings seemed to have black edges. The green parrots that flashed from one palm tree to another. Long walks in the Collserola in April, to gather wild asparagus, or in September, to hunt for mushrooms. The beach every weekend in the summer, the mountains in the winter — and restaurants and bars that stayed open all night. It was a city whose pleasures were simple and constant — and it was a good place to raise a child.

Amy stays on in Barcelona, and when this story takes place she is middle-aged, runs a little shop called Trinket, and lives nearby in an apartment overlooking an underground car park. One night she hears someone crying, finds a young French speaking Moroccan man in pain, and takes him home. (to the horror of her friend Montse, a character who appears in each novella). Amy is taken by the attractive young man, and a relationship develops. Amy’s neighbour is a cantankerous racist:

“You let all kind of vermin into the building. You have no morals.”

An unpleasant incident with this neighbour becomes a police matter, and Amy’s livelihood is in jeopardy until the titular ‘Giant’ appears unexpectedly to support her.

To many people outside Spain, Barcelona is most associated with its football team. Their star in the 2000s, Ronaldinho of Brazil, makes an appearance in all 3 novellas, but it is never entirely clear if this is only in the imagination of the characters.

Nacho, in the second novel, turns out to be the ex-husband of Montse. He is an alcoholic who lives with a young Brazilian lover, Cristiani, and her young son Aristides. Nacho and Ari share an interest in football.

In the summer of 2003 FC Barcelona signed Ronaldinho from Paris Saint-Germain. He was already world-famous by then, thanks partly to the spectacular forty-yard free kick he had scored against England in the World Cup quarterfinals the year before. […]

There was no one in Barcelona who did not know his name. [..] As you left the airport, there was a giant billboard with Ronnie on it — Ronnie with his glistening braids tied back in a ponytail, Ronnie with his infectious bucktoothed grin….

Nacho meets Ronaldinho in a club. They have a conversation, in which Ronnie remembers seeing Nacho on the street a year earlier. Nacho’s fantasy? The novella veers into even more unlikely territory — Ronaldinho asks Nacho to tutor him in Spanish — and Nacho’s fixation with him becomes more and more fantastical.

The third novella is the most fanciful of all: The Carpenter of Montjuic. Montse appears again, as the editor who works with Jordi Ferrer, a translator. Jordi’s neighbour Vic Drago is a mystery man who owns a chest made by an even more mysterious carpenter.

The chest of drawers stood at the back of the terrace. […] As I approached, I felt a magnetic pull, not just the urge to reach out and touch the chest, but something palpable or physical, a kind of tug. It didn’t come from me. It came from outside. From the thing itself.

This particular story leaned towards the Gothic, a genre that I am not fond of. Honestly, I read on only to see how Ronaldinho could possibly be worked into this fantastical tale. And then it came:

During the first week of May I walked in to find [Vic…] reading a copy of Mundo Deportivo. The paper was open on a photo of Ronaldinho […]

“Is it true he’s leaving?”

There are stories within stories: Jordi is working on translating a story whose details keep appearing in real life and something is going on between his girlfriend and Vic Drago.

The novellas are uneven, and occasionally seem incoherent when they veer into surrealism. The writing, though, is appropriately atmospheric.

I set off down the Avinguda Valvidrera, the moon at the top of the sky and seemingly caught in a net of cloud. Stopping on the bridge over the Ronda, I leaned on the rail, the six-lane highway fifty feet below. Exhaust fumes mingled with frangipani.

Worth reading, but not, for me, worth reading again.