Remember the Scorpion by Isaac Goldemberg

Abstract

tumultuous life of Caravaggio, the death of Anne Boleyn, and the erotic escapades of notorious conquistador Hernán Cortés are revised and woven into an intricate, inextricable tapestry. With apparent effortlessness , Enrigue fuses together ostensibly discordant narratives, fashioning a riveting, hilarious, and insightful romp. Set during the Counter Reformation and framed by a duel-like game of pallacorda —akin to tennis—between Italian maestro Caravaggio and Spanish poet Francisco de Quevedo, the novel comprises vignettes traversing decades and continents , with Enrigue inserting inventive restagings of personal interactions in a broader historical context. From Caravaggio ’s escapades in Rome to the pillaging of Tenochtitlan, we travel around the world and into the private lives of popes, poets, and prostitutes. As the novel unfolds, recurring objects—a tennis ball stuffed with the hair of Boleyn, severed before her head befell the same fate; the scapular of Cortés; and a mantle of iridescent feathers crafted by Aztecs—neatly (albeit implausibly ) link these otherwise isolated plots. It is a disservice to discuss Sudden Death without emphasizing the impeccable work of translator Natasha Wimmer . With dexterity, Wimmer navigates the novel’s blend of Spanish, Nahuatl, and Italian, the result reading seamlessly , demonstrative of how translation can itself be an art form. By preserving certain Italian words, Wimmer enhances our sense of locale and places us in the action, the umpire’s shouts of Trenta-amore echoing in our imaginations. Perhaps the simplest description of Sudden Death is contained within the novel itself: “A book with a lot of back and forth, like a game of tennis.” This is, however, entirely insufficient, as the novel resists categorization, darting among genres with remarkable deftness, neither wholly history , criticism, autobiography, nor pure fiction. Enrigue writes skilfully about art, globalization, and religion but truly excels at creating authentic, vivid depictions of emotional and physical intimacy. With these, the novel feels personal and provocative , rather than flat and factual, and thrums with a menagerie of life. Rosie Clarke London Anna Gavalda. Life, Only Better. Trans. Tina Kover. New York. Europa Editions. 2015. 210 pages. In her latest book, French novelist Anna Gavalda brings together two novellas exploring the young, restless, and downtrodden on the edge of a breakthrough. Matilde and Yann are both in their twenties , at a point in their lives when they feel opportunity is slipping past, for which they bear responsibility as much as their circumstances do. Both find their lives thrown completely off balance by chance encounters that force them to question what they want and how they will get it. Matilde is drifting, working a deadend job for her brother-in-law and living with more-or-less miserable roommates. Although not happy with her lot, she’s comfortable and complacent until her lost bag is found by a chef who leaves an indelible impression. Soon, consumed by the idea of this man, Matilde finds a new purpose in life as she tries to find him, putting all her hopes for a better, more fulfilling existence on him. Yann isn’t much better off, living with his girlfriend in a flat that has slowly been scrubbed of his identity in favor of a neutral decor. One evening, while his girlfriend is out of town, he happens to bump into his neighbors, who invite him in for drinks and dinner. During hours of rousing conversation, Yann begins to see the passion missing from his own life and sets about making changes for himself. Gavalda’s writing is engaging and lyrical although at times rambling in a way that’s true to the voice of her characters. She gives in to their impulses to self-pity and self-loathing—in the case of Matilde, to the point of distraction. But her characters are so deeply human that it’s easy to forgive any sense of misdirection. What’s more, despite being rooted in the now-cliché wayward twentysomething narrative, the stories themselves are entirely unpredictable . For Yann, the idyllic evening takes a surprising turn, while for Matilde, a single line takes the story to an unforeseeably dark and potentially dangerous place, only to abruptly end. Life, Only Better is indeed that: slices of life with...