A Heart so White

We listen to Juan, a translator by trade, tell the story of watching a women wait for her lover. He is on his honeymoon in Cuba and the story doubles back to his father's honeymoon with his second wife. Juan begins to wonder what happened to cause this women, his aunt, to kill herself shortly after the honeymoon was over. The narrator tells a gripping story that mixes the present with the past and leaves the reader thrilled with the result. I loved this book.

I was impressed with the translation into English, the Proustian attention to detail and the stunning portrait of a father (similarities with Proust's portrait of Swann).

A few days after returning from her honeymoon, Teresa leaves the room in the middle of dinner, goes to the bathroom and shoots herself in the heart. Years later, in the present, as our narrator Juan is getting used to the changes brought about his own marriage, he becomes fascinated by the mystery of why Teresa killed herself. He has a personal connection – his father Ranz was married to Teresa at the time and later married her sister Juana, Juan's mother. So Teresa would have been Juan's aunt – though had she lived, of course she wouldn't have been...There are several themes going on in the book – the uncertainty of memory, the inability to forget something once heard, the increasing unknowableness of truth when stories are relayed from person to person. Both Juan and his wife Luisa are interpreters and the sections where Juan talks about listening and conveying meaning are fascinating. The title is a reference to Macbeth, specifically to Lady Macbeth's reaction on being told of Duncan's murder, illustrating a major theme - the complicity forced upon someone to whom a tale is told. Marías is also playing with the idea that events that are major in the present fade into insignificance as time passes, so that eventually all will be the same whether an event happened or didn't. An interesting thought.In fact, there are lots of interesting thoughts hidden in Marías' prose – well hidden. This is yet another in what seems to be becoming my accidental theme of the year – stream of consciousness novels or, as I prefer to call them, badly punctuated. I admit this one is nowhere near as bad as Absalom! Absalom! But it's up there with Mrs Dalloway for sure, although Marías does at least manage eventually to get to the end of his sentences without completely losing track of where he was heading. There is no doubt that this style of writing lends the prose an air of profundity which, once one breaks the sentences down into their constituent parts, often evaporates, as one realises that the difficulty of comprehension is due not so much to the complexity of the ideas as the complexity of the sentence structure.Another recurring feature of the few stream of consciousness novels I have waded through (or not, as the case may be) is the constant repetitiveness that the authors tend to employ, as if somehow repeating a thing a few dozen times will make it more meaningful. Perhaps it does, if one likes this style of writing – for me, it simply makes it tedious. An idea that intrigues on first mention requires expansion rather than repetition to hold this reader's interest, I fear.To be fair, I hate this style in general, but I do think Marías does it much better than most. Much of what he has to say is perceptive, as for example in this quote about getting used to being married. (The style means any quote has to be a long one, so apologies.)"As with an illness, this “change of state” is unpredictable, it disrupts everything, or rather prevents things from going on as they did before: it means, for example, that after going out to supper or to the cinema, we can no longer go our separate ways, each to his or her own home, I can no longer drive up in my car or in a taxi to Luisa's door and drop her off and then, once I've done so, drive off alone to my apartment along the half-empty, hosed-down streets, still thinking about her and about the future. Now that we're married, when we leave the cinema our steps head off in the same direction (the echoes out of time with each other, because now there are four feet walking along), but not because I've chosen to accompany her or not even because I usually do so and it seems the correct and polite thing to do, but because our feet never hesitate outside on the damp pavement, they don't deliberate or change their mind, there’s no room for regret or even choice: now there's no doubt that we're going to the same place, whether we want to or not this particular night, or perhaps it was only last night that I didn't want to."This is an example of both what I liked and didn't about the book. It's an interesting perspective and casts a good deal of light on Juan's uncertainty about the married state, but the style drives me up the wall even though it's one of the least waffly passages in the book.In terms of substance, the book is pretty much plot free. There are several set-piece scenes, some of which are very well done and give an air of menace or perhaps impending doom, and illuminate Marías' themes. But nothing much actually happens. And I must admit that by the time we finally got to the stage of discovering the reason for Teresa's death, the thing had been so stretched out and the themes beaten into the reader's head so often, that I couldn't imagine anyone actually being surprised by it.I'm sighing with frustration because there's a lot of good stuff in here. Written in normal prose, it would have made an excellent, thought-provoking novella or short novel. As it is, it's overlong, repetitive and filled with unnecessary waffle, all of which diminishes rather than adding to its impact. I found I could only read it in short sessions because the style frankly bored me into a dwam, and I would discover I'd read several pages (approximately half a paragraph) without absorbing any of it. So, recommended to people who enjoy stream of consciousness writing and not recommended to people who don't. 3½ stars for me, so rounded up.

A few days after returning from her honeymoon, Teresa leaves the room in the middle of dinner, goes to the bathroom and shoots herself in the heart. Years later, in the present, as our narrator Juan is getting used to the changes brought about his own marriage, he becomes fascinated by the mystery of why Teresa killed herself. He has a personal connection – his father Ranz was married to Teresa at the time and later married her sister Juana, Juan's mother. So Teresa would have been Juan's aunt – though had she lived, of course she wouldn't have been...There are several themes going on in the book – the uncertainty of memory, the inability to forget something once heard, the increasing unknowableness of truth when stories are relayed from person to person. Both Juan and his wife Luisa are interpreters and the sections where Juan talks about listening and conveying meaning are fascinating. The title is a reference to Macbeth, specifically to Lady Macbeth's reaction on being told of Duncan's murder, illustrating a major theme - the complicity forced upon someone to whom a tale is told. Marías is also playing with the idea that events that are major in the present fade into insignificance as time passes, so that eventually all will be the same whether an event happened or didn't. An interesting thought.In fact, there are lots of interesting thoughts hidden in Marías' prose – well hidden. This is yet another in what seems to be becoming my accidental theme of the year – stream of consciousness novels or, as I prefer to call them, badly punctuated. I admit this one is nowhere near as bad as Absalom! Absalom! But it's up there with Mrs Dalloway for sure, although Marías does at least manage eventually to get to the end of his sentences without completely losing track of where he was heading. There is no doubt that this style of writing lends the prose an air of profundity which, once one breaks the sentences down into their constituent parts, often evaporates, as one realises that the difficulty of comprehension is due not so much to the complexity of the ideas as the complexity of the sentence structure.Another recurring feature of the few stream of consciousness novels I have waded through (or not, as the case may be) is the constant repetitiveness that the authors tend to employ, as if somehow repeating a thing a few dozen times will make it more meaningful. Perhaps it does, if one likes this style of writing – for me, it simply makes it tedious. An idea that intrigues on first mention requires expansion rather than repetition to hold this reader's interest, I fear.To be fair, I hate this style in general, but I do think Marías does it much better than most. Much of what he has to say is perceptive, as for example in this quote about getting used to being married. (The style means any quote has to be a long one, so apologies.)"As with an illness, this “change of state” is unpredictable, it disrupts everything, or rather prevents things from going on as they did before: it means, for example, that after going out to supper or to the cinema, we can no longer go our separate ways, each to his or her own home, I can no longer drive up in my car or in a taxi to Luisa's door and drop her off and then, once I've done so, drive off alone to my apartment along the half-empty, hosed-down streets, still thinking about her and about the future. Now that we're married, when we leave the cinema our steps head off in the same direction (the echoes out of time with each other, because now there are four feet walking along), but not because I've chosen to accompany her or not even because I usually do so and it seems the correct and polite thing to do, but because our feet never hesitate outside on the damp pavement, they don't deliberate or change their mind, there’s no room for regret or even choice: now there's no doubt that we're going to the same place, whether we want to or not this particular night, or perhaps it was only last night that I didn't want to."This is an example of both what I liked and didn't about the book. It's an interesting perspective and casts a good deal of light on Juan's uncertainty about the married state, but the style drives me up the wall even though it's one of the least waffly passages in the book.In terms of substance, the book is pretty much plot free. There are several set-piece scenes, some of which are very well done and give an air of menace or perhaps impending doom, and illuminate Marías' themes. But nothing much actually happens. And I must admit that by the time we finally got to the stage of discovering the reason for Teresa's death, the thing had been so stretched out and the themes beaten into the reader's head so often, that I couldn't imagine anyone actually being surprised by it.I'm sighing with frustration because there's a lot of good stuff in here. Written in normal prose, it would have made an excellent, thought-provoking novella or short novel. As it is, it's overlong, repetitive and filled with unnecessary waffle, all of which diminishes rather than adding to its impact. I found I could only read it in short sessions because the style frankly bored me into a dwam, and I would discover I'd read several pages (approximately half a paragraph) without absorbing any of it. So, recommended to people who enjoy stream of consciousness writing and not recommended to people who don't. 3½ stars for me, so rounded up.

at the heart of a Marias novel is some deep , imponderable mystery that slowly takes shape.as well as good entertainment his writing usually informs.here its mostly about marriage + what it does to people.how it changes them.and about infidelity + suspicions of infidelity.the pillow talk that passes between lovers.then there's this Proustian meditation about time and its passage.there's the usual homage to Shakespeare - this time its the tragedy of Macbeth.and then there's this fascination with women.he finds women beguiling , deep + mysterious , bewitching.the mystery at the heart of A Heart So White , as usual , is a woman.why does newly wed Teresa come home from her honeymoon , go into the bathroom and shoot herself in the heart ??and years later , when the narrator is on his honeymoon , who is the woman with the strong legs in the short skirt who mistakes him for her lover ??and what of the intimate thoughts of the unnamed British politician who might just be Margaret Thatcher ?

The author was recommended to me but this book is hard to follow - right from the beginning where is convoluted use of tenses and flashback and no dialogue till p16. The plot can be summarised in one sentence - recently married man ponders his new status and the mystery of his father's marriages. There is very little action and the most dynamic section is about his stay in NY with Berta and her peculiar search for a suitable man which seems to have little relevance to the plot. I liked the characters - they are well described and quirky - but the style is heavy and unnecessarily difficult (especially the end scene where Juan the protagonist is listening to his father and the dialogue is interspersed with his own thoughts). A bit disappointing as a novel as the one denouement seems to make little difference to Juan and Louisa.

This is a well-written if somewhat expansive book. There were times when I almost gave up as there is a little too much introspection for my taste. But, although this didn't end as I expected it would, my perseverance was rewarded. It felt a bit like reading a set book from college though!

Accurate description, quick arrival