Books

The Curse of Civil War Loss

The Song of Youth is the translation of Montserrat Roig’s last work of fiction, the eight stories of El cant de la joventut (1989). Despite her fame in Catalonia, this is the very first book of hers to be published in English. Congratulations to Fum d’Estampa! It’s a great choice, with Roig in full flight, at the height of her powers

The title story is mag­nif­i­cent. An old woman is dying de­fi­antly in hos­pi­tal. She hates the thought­less way the nurse pa­tro­n­ises her and how the doc­tor scur­ries away as soon as pos­si­ble. She uses lan­guage, all she has left as her body fails, to de­fend her­self. The old woman con­fined to her bed re­mem­bers a love af­fair dur­ing the Civil War. In a fe­ro­cious cli­max, Roig com­bines love and death: the woman loses con­trol of her­self in both. The story is a pas­sion­ate cry to re­spect the old and a lament for age­ing.

The sto­ries are brief, with two ex­cep­tions, Mar and Be­fore I De­serve Obliv­ion. The mys­te­ri­ous and com­plex Mar is a tale of love, loss and lone­li­ness be­tween two women. Love and Ashes is also about friend­ship be­tween women. Free from War and Wave is a chill­ing Civil War anec­dote. It con­tains stu­pid, need­less death at the front, but more vivid is the con­stant strug­gle of women at home. Di­vi­sion is a po­lit­i­cal satire against an in­flu­en­tial politi­cian mak­ing sex­ual in­sin­u­a­tions to his host­ess, Glòria. In char­ac­ter­is­tic Roig style, the story is not just about sex­ism and abuse of power, but is en­riched by Glòria’s un­cer­tain re­la­tion­ship with her hus­band after the death of a child. The Cho­sen Apple, like the title story, is about death, but here a man is dying at home and loved. In the long Be­fore I De­serve Obliv­ion, Roig draws par­al­lels be­tween a cen­sor and a Peep­ing Tom. A Fran­coist cen­sor fan­ta­sises about the sex scenes he is cross­ing out from sub­mit­ted fic­tion with his blue pen­cil. Now in democ­racy, he is a school-teacher caught hid­ing in a cup­board to watch school-girls un­dress­ing for gym class. This “ridicu­lous man” tries to dress up this sor­did be­hav­iour with a poem by Cavafy on long­ing and de­sire.

Deep Feel­ing

The short­est story in the col­lec­tion, I don’t Un­der­stand Salmon, shows with elo­quence and pre­ci­sion some of Montser­rat Roig’s qual­i­ties and themes. If, let’s say, a so­phis­ti­cated short story has two threads (or places or times) coil­ing round each other (like this col­lec­tion’s title story), I don’t Un­der­stand Salmon has three in four pages. Norma is vis­it­ing a site in France where Span­ish Civil War dead are being ho­n­oured, their graves cleaned and marked, the un­der­growth cut back. Her child is ask­ing her why salmon surge up the river to die in the place they were born: the op­po­site of these long-dead refugees who died far from their land. The con­ver­sa­tion of mother and child al­ter­nates with the de­scrip­tion of the cold day at the graves. In other si­mul­ta­ne­ous con­ver­sa­tions, an old Re­pub­li­can is telling Norma about his tor­ture at Mau­thausen con­cen­tra­tion camp; and an­other de­por­tee, Lluïsa, re­calls how bod­ies were being washed up on the beach at Argelès a week after being swept down a river and out to sea. Some of the salmon die too, smashed on the rocks, swim­ming against the cur­rent. “Oh, those poor salmon,” the child says. As she lis­tens to the pre­vi­ous gen­er­a­tion’s tes­ti­mony, Norma is de­ter­mined not to pass on the curse of Civil War loss to the next gen­er­a­tion. The three themes - salmon, Re­pub­li­can graves and Mau­thausen - in­ter­twine with emo­tional force.

The above para­graph may make it ap­pear that Roig is writ­ing a story as if it were a the­sis. Given her po­lit­i­cal com­mit­ment, there is often some­thing of the­sis in her fic­tion. These are sto­ries (like her nov­els) of ideas. How­ever, the ideas do not di­min­ish the lit­er­ary qual­i­ties. On the con­trary, it is these that bring the ideas to life. Her prose is lyri­cal, based on clear de­scrip­tion of scenes and feel­ings. At first glance there is noth­ing com­pli­cated about the sto­ries. Her writ­ing has a bright sheen. The sec­ond glance shows she is writ­ing of mur­der and un­bear­able suf­fer­ing. Her lu­mi­nous sur­face cov­ers deep emo­tion and his­tory.

To trans­late a book like this must be hard, given Roig’s care with words in these very in­tense sto­ries. Tiago Miller meets the chal­lenge. He is not fright­ened to trans­late freely. The re­sult reads well and is a long-awaited in­tro­duc­tion in Eng­lish to this fine nov­el­ist.

book re­view

The Song of Youth Author: Montserrat Roig Translator: Tiago Miller Pages: 114 Publisher: Fum d’Estampa (2021) “Gracefully translated and filled with stark beauty,” Eleanor Updegraff The Monthly Booking

A Full Life

It is still a shock reverberating around the background of Catalonia’s cultural world that Montserrat Roig (1945-1991), the liveliest literary figure of her generation, should die so young and so suddenly of cancer. Yet she achieved more in those years than most people who live twice as long.

As well as five novels, Roig wrote an account of the siege of Leningrad (L’agulla daurade, The Golden Needle, 1985) and her remarkable 900-page Els catalans als camps nazis (1977), which took several years of research. Based on fifty interviews with survivors of the camps, especially Mauthausen, and published in the year of the end of the dictatorship, it remembers and honours the Catalans exiled by the Civil War and then deported. The book challenged a Catalonia emerging from the dictatorship to recover the values of the Republic and the crushed memory of the Franco decades.

Feminist rebel

Her first book was Molta roba i poc sabó (Lots of Clothing and Little Soap, 1970), stories that prefigure her trilogy on two families of Barcelona’s Eixample: Ramona adéu (Goodbye, Ramona, 1972, to be published in English by Fum d’Estampa later this year); her best-known novel, the Sant Jordi prize-winning El temps de les cireres (Cherry Time, 1977); and L’hora violeta (The Violet Hour, 1980). The trilogy portrays the personal struggles of three generations of women in the main events of Barcelona’s twentieth century.

Feminist, communist, mother, journalist, Montserrat Roig conjured time from nowhere for a lot more than her books. She brought up two children. She wrote opinion pieces in several papers and conducted famous television interviews (some are available on YouTube): the qualities of observation and precise description in her fiction are suggestive of this journalistic training. She was a political activist, too, with the PSUC (Catalan Communist Party) during the Franco dictatorship, left the PSUC because of its dogmatism, then returned to it (she was Number 10 on the electoral list for the 1977 elections, one of only 3 women in the first 20) and left it again in 1978 when it supported the monarchy.

Montserrat Roig was a rebel. She was very much of her time, but opened her own path, a pioneer in feminism and historical memory. Her permanent legacy is her profound and shining literature.

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