Rita Indiana

I wonder if I would have enjoyed this book more if I had loved Tentacle less, or if this had been the first book by Indiana that I read. Tentacle was one of my favorite reads of 2019 -- so breathtakingly bonkers with time travel, climate collapse, magical anemones, art theory/criticism/history, class & gender criticism... That book could barely be contained. Made in Saturn keeps just enough of some of the themes, particularly the history and language of art, and the legacy of colonialism and revolution in the Caribbean to feel like the work of the same author, but with all of the speculative elements stripped away and a rather dislikable narrator. (Many of the characters in Tentacle weren't terribly likable either, but with so much going on, it mattered less.) In the end it had interesting things to say, but I can't help hoping Indiana's future books contain more of the wild exuberance of Tentacle.… (meer)

Que el español sigue vivo nos lo demuestran los más de cuatrocientos millones de hablantes que farfullamos esta lengua desde la cuna, más otras decenas de millones de personas en el mundo que se han interesado en aprenderla. Que el español literario también lo está es buena muestra esta novela de Rita Indiana.
Sin complejos, con la fuerza de una lengua cibaeña crisol de influencias lingüísticas lejanas geográficamente pero ya seculares en su promiscuidad: españolas, evidente, pero también amerindias, africanas, y sin hacerle ascos al inglés, que el vecino del norte pesa e influye mucho. La autora desenvuelve su relato con una osadía y una agilidad de muñeca al empuñar la pluma, o las teclas del ordenador, dignas de admiración. Sin corsés academicistas pero con la rotundidad de un español más vivo en tanto que no es purista pues como decía Cela, cito de memoria, “el español es de todos y cada uno lo habla como le sale de los cojones”.
La novela es todo un ejercicio de prestidigitación léxica al servicio de una trama compleja de seguir en sus saltos temporales e identidades solapadas. Un argumento desquiciante, alocado en su desarrollo que, sin sermonear, no elude hablar de “arte, política y ambientalismo”. Sólo queda decir: “Pasen y lean”.… (meer)

We meet Argenis in the Havana airport--his father has sent him from the DR to detox. That doesn't go as planned, but we learn a lot about Argenis. When he makes it back to his aunt in the DR, we learn as he does.

Argenis struggles with his family history--and that is what this book is about. He is the younger and un-favored son of a former revolutionary. His parents were revolutionaries in the 60s. His father then flipped and took a position in Balaguer's government, and is now fairly high up. Argenis has little to no respect for his father, or his older brother who was a show-off as a child and is now a businessman who uses their father's connections. Argenis, meanwhile, is an artist and has attended art school. He started with cocaine before becoming hooked on heroin. Does he want to stop? It's unclear, but he DOES want to be able to function, to do his art, to not constantly be on the hunt for his next high.

As he manages to stay off the heroin, he learns more about what his parents, their friends, and his aunt went through--and about his grandmother's life as a maid--he gains some perspective. He has only ever wanted to do art. Not to perform recitations on his father's command as his brother did. Nor to use his father's connections to succeed in business--as his brother does. Yet he also finds it very sad how his grandmother--who now owns her former employers' house--still wears her maid's uniform and sleeps in her maid's room. Though she only serves herself. It seems he is ready to grow up and find a happy medium, if he can stay away from heroin.… (meer)