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Dopo la vittoria di due anni fa, José Eduardo Agualusa è di nuovo nella long-list dell’Independent Foreign Fiction Prize con il romanzo As mulheres do meu pai, tradotto in inglese da Daniel Hahn (My Father’s Wives). A maggio sapremo se Agualusa sarà di nuovo l’autore del mio romanzo straniero pubblicato in Inghilterra.
La Nuova Frontiera pubblicherà nei prossimi mesi l’edizione italiana di questo nuovo, straordinario, romanzo dell’autore de Il venditore di passati.
Continua il grande successo di José Eduardo Agualusa negli Stati Uniti. Il venditore di passati – dopo aver vinto lo scorso anno The Independent Foreign Fiction Prize come miglior romanzo straniero pubblicato in Inghilterra – è ora entrato nella lista dei 25 migliori romanzi tradotti e pubblicati negli Stati Uniti nel 2008. Tra i finalisti, insieme ad Agualusa (The book of chameleons), ci sono José Saramago (Death with interruptions), António Lobo Antunes (What can I do when everything’s on fire), il nostro Horacio Castellanos Moya (Senselessness) e Imre Kertesz (Detective story). La short-lista sarà annunciata il 27 gennaio e il vincitore il 19 febbraio.
L’ultimo libro di José Eduardo Agualusa, Il venditore di passati, continua a ottenere successi nei paesi di lingua anglosassone. Vi riportiamo qui sotto una recensione uscita sul Washington Post. Buona lettura.
The coldblooded narrator of José Eduardo Agualusa’s novel is a gecko inhabited by the reincarnated spirit of Jorge Luis Borges. The Argentine master’s name is never mentioned: Agualusa, a native Angolan steeped in Latin American literature, lets readers in on the joke in an interview appended to the book; but those unfamiliar with Borges may have trouble appreciating it. Still, “The Book of Chameleons” is a worthy homage. Crisply accessible, it explores questions of identity and oppression within the confines of a beguiling mystery.
The setting is present-day Luanda, but since everything is filtered through the lidless eyes of a tiny creature, the Angolan capital remains in the background. Most of the action takes place at the home of Félix Ventura, an albino bibliophile in an unorthodox line of work: He fabricates respectable genealogies for newly affluent citizens who wish to enter Luandan high society. One night, however, a photojournalist asks him for an entirely fresh identity. Despite initial misgivings, Félix accepts the job. After all, it is the next logical step in the “advanced kind of literature” he has been practicing: “I create plots, I invent characters, but rather than keeping them in a book I give them life, launching them out into reality.”
Of course, fiction and reality have always shared a porous border. This is why it is not too surprising when the photojournalist, now known as José Buchmann, starts acting as if he believes he is Buchmann. Agualusa is treading on well-worn ground. Many writers have toyed with the fluidity of self: Borges himself was especially adept at it. And yet Buchmann’s strange behavior proves compelling. Is he mad or up to no good? Nothing so conventional; prepare instead for a plot detour that defies expectations.
Meanwhile, Félix encounters Angela Lucia, a young woman who just happens to be a photojournalist. (Coincidences abound here.) She is not repulsed by his appearance. A lonely outcast who hires prostitutes, he is susceptible to romance. But are Angela’s feelings for him genuine, or will she reveal herself to be a femme fatale? The high point of the novel, their relationship is drawn with humor, compassion and a mature understanding of the nature of love.
In the end, however, they are ensnared by the legacy of the Angolan civil war. The former Portuguese colony endured decades of strife after declaring its independence. It became a proxy battleground of the Cold War, with Russians, Americans, Cubans and South Africans all joining in. Dissidents were brutalized and murdered. While things have settled down, stark reminders remain, such as the millions of land mines that litter the countryside. But psychological trip-wires also are waiting to be triggered and threaten to bring Félix’s world down upon him.
“The Book of Chameleons,” which won the 2007 Independent Foreign Fiction Prize, portrays a society in flux via a handful of characters in spatially circumscribed circumstances. The novel is breezily brief; it consists of 32 unnumbered chapter vignettes, several of which are no more than one to two pages. These often are accounts of the gecko’s dreams, in which it recalls its experiences as a man or visits Félix in his dreams. The gecko itself, a device that could have quickly worn out its welcome, is a lucid observer with a wryly engaging voice capable of gnomic pronouncements such as “Happiness is almost always irresponsible” and “Memory is a landscape watched from the window of a moving train.” He is also something of a literary critic: “I do like the Boer writer Coetzee. . . for his harshness and precision, the despair totally free of self-indulgence. I was surprised to discover that the Swedes recognized such good writing.” One knows one is in Africa when Coetzee is referred to as a Boer.
Only three of Agualusa’s seven novels have thus far been translated into English. “The Book of Chameleons” is the first to arrive on these shores. May it garner sufficient recognition for the rest of his oeuvre to be made available. As his clever albino puts it, “Literature is the only chance for a true liar to attain any sort of social acceptance.”
Ieri sera abbiamo presentato alla libreria Griot il nuovo libro di José Eduardo Agualusa Il venditore di passati.
Libreria piena, autore contento, registrazione dell’evento – che tra poco metteremo on line – insomma bene.
Andiamo a cena e l’autore ci racconta dello straordinario successo che ha avuto in Brasile il suo terzultimo libro, Quando Zumbi prese Rio. Ci snocciola dati impressionanti, e poi ci racconta un particolare che ignoravamo. Durante una fiera del libro, Caetano Veloso, ha intrattenuto il suo pubblico per quasi mezz’ora elogiando il libro di Agualusa e dichiarando: “Fiquei muito excitado, e indignado pelo livro não ter causado furor no Brasil”, disse o cantor, contando que conheceu o romance através de uma editora italiana que lhe encomendou um prefácio. “Mas fiquei tão entusiasmado que nem consegui escrever”.
Rimaniamo sbalorditi. La casa editrice italiana che aveva chiesto la prefazione siamo noi e scopriamo che i nostri prodigi stampa sono più apprezzati nel lontano Brasile che a pochi metri dal nostro ufficio.
A questo punto speriamo che Caetano Veloso voglia ripetere le stesse parole durante la sua prossima tournée in Italia, sennò ci accontentiamo di aver contribuito al successo di un nostro autore in Brasile.
Ciao.
P.S. Per i curiosi questo è il sito brasiliano da cui ho ripreso la notizia
