¿Preferís ser felices siendo ignorantes o ser infelices conociendo toda la verdad? 

“Escuchar es lo más peligroso’, pensé, ‘es saber, es estar enterado y estar al tanto, los oídos carecen de párpados que puedan cerrarse instintivamente a lo pronunciado, no pueden guardarse de lo que se presiente que va a escucharse, siempre es demasiado tarde. Ahora ya sabemos, y puede que eso manche nuestros corazones tan blancos, o quizá son pálidos y temerosos, o acobardados.” 

“No he querido saber, pero he sabido que una de las niñas, cuando ya no era niña y no hacía mucho que había regresado de su viaje de bodas, entró en el cuarto de baño, se puso frente al espejo, se abrió la blusa, se quitó el sostén y se buscó el corazón con la punta de la pistola de su propio padre, que estaba en el comedor con parte de la familia y tres invitados.” 

“A veces tengo la sensación de que nada de lo que sucede sucede, de que todo ocurrió y a la vez no ha ocurrido, porque nada sucede sin interrupción, nada perdura ni persevera ni se recuerda incesantemente, y hasta la más monótona y rutinaria de las existencias se va anulando y negando a sí misma en su aparente repetición hasta que nada es nada ni nadie es nadie que fueran antes, y la débil rueda del mundo es empujada por desmemoriados que oyen y ven y saben lo que no se dice ni tiene lugar ni es cognoscible ni comprobable. A veces tengo la sensación de que lo que se da es idéntico a lo que no se da, lo que descartamos o dejamos pasar idéntico a lo que tomamos y asimos, lo que experimentamos idéntico a lo que no probamos, y sin embargo nos va la vida y se nos va la vida en escoger y rechazar y seleccionar, en trazar una línea que separe esas cosas que son idénticas y haga de nuestra historia una historia única que recordemos y pueda contarse, sea al instante o al cabo del tiempo, y así ser borrada o difuminada, la anulación de lo que vamos siendo y vamos haciendo. Volcamos toda nuestra inteligencia y nuestros sentidos y nuestro afán en la tarea de discernir lo que será nivelado, o ya lo está, y por eso estamos llenos de arrepentimientos y de ocasiones perdidas, de confirmaciones y reafirmaciones y ocasiones aprovechadas, cuando lo cierto es que nada se afirma y todo se va perdiendo. Jamás hay conjunto, o acaso es que nunca hubo nada. Sólo que también es verdad que a nada se le pasa el tiempo y todo está ahí, esperando a que se lo haga volver.” 

Es una novela diferente, hay qué adaptarse a la forma de escribir de Marías, con párrafos largos en los que puede parecer que no dice nada y que incluyen frases importantes, profundas.

It took me awhile to get into the rhythm of this intricate and free-flowing novel. But once I did, it was totally captivating. Often amusing (imagine your own every thought dumped onto the page in real time, how ridiculous we all are), often challenging (repetitions and connections making a literary puzzle), and best read a bit at a time over many days (because it is truly exhausting to read and interpret someone’s every thought while simultaneously thinking and interpreting your own, a theme often repeated in the novel).

My only gripe is that the construction gets a bit heavy handed, as if the reader can’t be trusted to make the connections without an explicit map.

Looking forward to reading more of this author.

“How many things are left unsaid in the course of a lifetime or a story, sometimes without our meaning or choosing to do so?” p212

A Heart so White is my first foray into the work of Spanish writer, Javier Marías, and wow, I am quite blown away by it. It’s challenging to describe this novel in that in some ways it’s an exploration and expose of thematic ideas using the backdrop of a narrative plot to illustrate these thoughts. The plot line is in someways quite secondary although integral if that makes sense.

If I was to try and summarise the main tenet of A Heart so White as they stand out to me it would be about what it is that we choose to say and not to say in the context of intimate relationships. Life is a series of choices that we make in relation to the words that we speak, the deeds that we do, and these words and deeds are in reality equal to all the words and deeds that we don’t say and the impact of both are equal in their impact.

“Each step taken and each word spoken by anyone in any circumstances (hesitant or assured, sincere or false) have unimaginable repercussions that will affect someone who neither knows us nor wants to, someone who hasn’t yet been born or doesn’t know that they’ll have to suffer us and become, literally a matter of life and death.” p80

The story is narrated by Juan, the husband of Luisa, the son of Ranz and Juana, the nephew of Teresa (although he wouldn’t be the nephew of anyone if Teresa hadn’t shot herself). Juan is ever present throughout the whole telling of the story with long essay like forays into the concepts that surround our most intimate relationships, unspoken thoughts, suspicions, questions, doubts and fears. Juan is like a participant yet also a watcher and a listener. He is alongside the narrative yet also integrally central to it all. In particular he explores the notion of knowledge - do we really want to know what someone else tells us and how will that impact? Is it better to maintain a silence or not?

I like the way Marías uses Shakespeare’s Macbeth as a bit of a motif throughout. Even the title of the book has its origins here… “my hands are of your colour; but I shame to wear a heart so white.” The relationship of Macbeth and his wife is referred to again and again along the lines of “I have done the deed”… and all those words imply.

A Heart so White is so much more than a novel. It is an essay story.. I loved every minute of it. What an amazing 5 star first read for 2024.

Interesante lectura con momentos muy emocionantes y otros muy lentos que a veces uno desearía otro tipo de edición. Aun así, las reflexiones sobre el ser a través de otro, y el rol de escuchar entre las traiciones y verdades es bien interesante.

This was masterful on a technical, cerebral level (he does some brilliant things with syntax, repetition, and layering/nesting tenses inside one another), but I just didn't connect with it, and it didn't seem to care about making that connection with me or anyone else. It wanted me to look at it and admire it but not welcome me into conversation with it. My experience went like this:

6%: This is a new-to-me author, but apparently he's a big deal. Right from the jump, the opening chapter is just killer. Damn.

27%: Okay, this guy is very good at Thinking and at Writing Very Long Sentences, but it's starting to give Narcissistic Monologue, and I worry that's not just the character being annoying...

30% onward: This has turned into a slog. The writer is very talented words-wise, but the point of the book seems to be showing that off rather than inviting readers to sit down and share in a story.

Ultimately, this felt like a book for (and by) a certain type of man who likes to talk in circles about human things but in a way that seems removed from actual humanity and real human experiences. There were a lot of great lines and well-put slivers of philosophy, but overall it felt...icky? Because everything about the writing felt calculated rather than natural? And the casual misogyny sure didn't help. No one breasted boobily, but there was a lot of "Women don't understand X" and "Women are always doing Y because they don't know better," and he (the narrator, but also, I think, the author) certainly regarded women as insignificant pawns in a game that was being played only for and by men. Women don't have thoughts and feelings and motivations and storylines of their own, they just do and say things that sometimes happen to nudge into the storylines of men, and only the men's experiences are of any consequence. No thanks. (The opening chapter is amazing, though!)