Do You like book Nada (2007)?
To me, this novel represents literary perfection. The writer presents her characters without judgment, unrolls a plot that is simple in the outline but incredibly nuanced in the detail, a story that is so utterly of its era and location yet timeless in its themes. This novel is set in Barcelona in the early 1940's, but as Mario Vargas Llosa notes in his introduction, references to the Spanish Civil War are very few and vague. Yet the physical, intellectual and cultural destruction of the war are personified in the wretched and brutal family of aunts, uncles and grandmother with which Andrea spends her first year of university. It is a coming of age tale, a intimate glimpse into a young woman's existential crisis, a complex and unresolved display of class and gender inequality. That this semi-autobiographical portrait was written by Laforet in her early twenties is astonishing; that it isn't presented in high school or university literature classes is tragic. To again quote Vargas Llosa, it is a "beautiful and terrible novel" but not without tremendous hope and strength of character. I ended it feeling uplifted!"That was when I began to realize that it is much easier to endure great setbacks than everyday petty annoyances."I read this line spoken by the novel's narrator, Andrea, and it struck me- so simple, yet profound. It's the way I'm feeling about this novel-its clean & quiet style belies the complexity of the story and the chaos of its characters' lives. I find Andrea heroic- she is so wise even as she acknowledges her own naivete; she possesses a quiet dignity that allows her to endure the emotional abuse of her broken and ill extended family and drives her to near-starvation to bring beauty into her life.
—Julie
Nada está ambientada en la posguerra española y nos acerca la historia de Andrea, una jovencita que viaja a Barcelona para iniciar sus estudios y que, puesto que tiene familia allí, decide regresar a la casa familiar. Pero... ay, ay, ay, esa casa y quienes en ella habitan ya no son lo que eran y lo que prometía ser un hogar y compañía cómodos acaba siendo, si me permitís la expresión, la casa de los horrores. Nada, nada es lo que el piso de la calle Aribau le ofrece a Andrea: ni sustento, ni cariño, sólo la implacable dureza de las miserias humanas.Una historia que refleja la cara y la cruz de una sociedad. Por un lado, la decadencia de una clase que tal vez fue media pero que ahora debe sobrevivir vendiendo todo lo vendible y comiendo pan con pan. Por otro, una alta sociedad que apenas ha notado cambios en su modo de vida. Andrea nadará entre esas dos aguas: sufrirá el hambre y el disconfort de un hogar que ya no puede calificarse como tal, presenciará malos tratos, discusiones... nada encontrará en su familia para nutrir el alma y el cuerpo; y también vivirá la bohemia estudiantil y el calor de las fiestas y reuniones a las que su amiga Ena, de familia bien, tendrá el gusto de llevarla.Una historia que, más que desarrollar una trama, nos describe años en una vida que son dignos de contar por su crudeza. Una novela que en el fondo nos hace llegar el mensaje de que se puede volver a empezar. Pero lo que más me ha sorprendido es la pericia con que está escrita teniendo en cuenta que es la ópera prima de Carmen Laforet. Sí, sin duda es lo que más destacó de este libro y lo que me impulsa a darle valor. De otra manera, ha sido una lectura más que sin disgustarme tampoco será una de mis destacadas de este año.Opinión completa: http://tejiendoideas-cosiendopalabras...
—Anuca
“Un papel viejo se me pegó a las rodillas. Miré aquel aire grueso, a plastado contra la tierra, que empezaba a hacer revolar el polvo y las hojas, en una macabre danzas de cosas muertas. Sentí dolor de soledad, más unsoportable, por repetido…“My dear friend, I know I am supposed to write a review of this novel Nada by Carmen Laforet, but grant me some patience, because although Ms. Laforet’s work deserves nothing but praise and admiration, I suppose I have to go about things through roundabout regret. Yes, regret.For more than 300 years the Philippines had been under the dominion of the cross and sword of Spain, my people subjugated by the Spaniards who treated my country and ancestors as stronger nations treat their colonies and their people in those days: a gift from the heavens to be exploited and enjoyed. Spain’s influence was such that we inherited their religion and customs, and our language today is rich amalgamation of Malayan and Spanish, retained in original or bastardized, surviving the centuries in some linguistic miracle or mangled almost beyond tracing like a dog breed this way and that, the result of which bears traces of the past but is still original in its way. In my own province in the south, our dialect is mainly composed of Spanish words, about 80 percent, or so my former Spanish language professor claimed, so you would hear us talking about usual things like espejo and cinturon, and some choice adjectives such as tonto, tonta, sinverguenza, etcetera.I had 12 or so units of Spanish in college, and I can still remember my gay professor who required us to memorize José Rizal’s Mi Último Adiós and would jokingly ask his linguistically challenged students, such as myself: "Cuatro o cuarto?" My idiocy allowed me, meanwhile, to retort, albeit only to myself: Why should I study the language of my country’s conquistador?So I passed my Spanish subjects through mixture of stupidity (mine) and kindness (of other people) and only much later, as I grow older and therefore fonder of lives I cannot live, that literature opened up to me. Literature revealed the blunder I have committed in my youth: Spanish works I cannot read in original, including the works of our national heroes- que horror!Which now brings me to Carmen Laforet and her novel Nada, which is farthest from being nada in literary value. Edith Grossman’s translation is exquisite, capturing a somber tone that perfectly fits Laforet’s story of a young lady’s coming-of-age in Barcelona after the Spanish civil war. The protagonist is Andrea, an orphan who came to Barcelona to study in the university. “Because of last minute difficulties in buying tickets, I arrived in Barcelona at midnight on a train different from the one I had announced, and nobody was waiting for me.”Darkness greets Andrea in her arrival and the darkness, it seems, is everywhere: The house where she will reside, her relatives, their lives-- everything is bathed in all-pervading darkness, and poverty. Here is youth trudging through the dark reality of her time, lost, and ultimately alone. Through Nada, Laforet evoked the spirit of a time in Spain’s history without dwelling on the politics of the day. What emerges in the novel is one human being’s struggles, so personal yet they acquire the universal weight of a struggle against life itself. Laforet’s characters sway from darkness to light, from madness to reason, and most of them show a peculiar preference for the shadows, the tragic. Andrea’s youthful exuberance and hopes are shattered against the monolith of dark reality and she seems to intuit her trapped character, in a cycle of pain and frustration, helpless but hopeful somehow, which makes it more painful for the reader. Nada was awarded the first Premio Nadal in 1944, yet when you read Grossman’s translation, you are transported to Laforet’s Barcelona of shadows, hunger, and madness. And when you read the Spanish quote above in English, you are struck by its originality and impossibility—it’s beauty, therefore—and you feel your poverty for your incapability to read the novel and its many beautiful passages in Spanish original and need to settle with snippets to soothe your pain and regret.“An old sheet of paper blew against my knees. I looked at the thick air, crushed against the earth, which was beginning to make the dust and leaves fly around in a macabre dance of dead things. I felt the pain of solitude, more unbearable, because repeated…”
—Emir Never
