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Stroj Za Pravljenje španjolaca (2010)

by valter hugo mãe(Favorite Author)

4.15 of 5 Votes: 3

languge

English

genre

Fiction

publisher

Vuković & Runjić

review 1: I’m trying to come up with a clever way of translating this Portuguese novel’s title into English, but I guess I’ll just stick to my literal poor excuse for a translation – the spanish making machine. No, I did not momentarily develop an aversion to capital letters. If you ever end up reading this novel you’ll quickly find out that capital letters are as rare in it, as are paragraphs and conventional punctuation… Actually, forget that. I think capital letters might be even rarer.Don’t let it scare you though. It is quite an easy read and save for one or two occasions when I was forced to reread a section trying not to lose track of which character was saying what, I found the book surprisingly fluid. Not that the writing style didn’t bug me. It did,... a lo... moret. But only because I didn’t get its point. I mean, it’s original. I’m not saying it isn’t. It’s refreshing even, and kudos to the writer for managing to tell his story effectively while resorting to such an unusual writing method, but call me old-fashioned, I discovered I like paragraphs and question marks more than I like originality. Furthermore, I occasionally find myself thinking that had the story been written in the ‘conventional’ way, I would have found it as interesting as I did... Not sure what the answer to that is.Now for the story itself... The plot centers around an 84 year-old -man, who sees his life (or what’s left of it) turned upside down when his wife of nearly fifty years unexpectedly dies, leaving him alone and pissed off at the world in general.To add insult to injury, the octogenarian is forced to relocate a few months after said tragic event to a retirement home, where the majority of the plot unfolds.With its clinical ambiance and convenient location (right next to a cemetery, of all places!), the retirement home looks more like a purgatory's waiting room for the protagonist, who spends the first few weeks in his new home refusing to talk to anyone, while cursing against his bad luck for surviving his wife.Don’t expect to immediately sympathize with the main character. You probably won’t. Heck, if he was a real person, be sure he wouldn’t want you to either, but there is something of his tragedy that might touch you and end up making you want to cheer for such an ill-tempered old man despite your better judgment. And that is because he is human, and his struggles and his depression and his anger towards life and his old age are all part of the human condition that we can all connect and relate to. That being said, it’s fair to say this is not a lighthearted book. If anything, it’s bittersweet, even if sprinkled with moments of wonder and humor here and there.It’s an essay on life, death and the good and the bad in between, and chances are you’ll finish it feeling bothered and slightly blue, because you’ll have figured out at some point that if you reach your eighties, you might end up experiencing some of the anguish that the protagonist carries with him throughout the book. Don’t let it turn you away from this story though. Despite the occasional flaw, I found it is an honest portrayal of old age and a possibility to reflect on the value of friendship and life.(+) the writing style;(-) the writing style. (It bugs me, ok? I can’t help it.)(By the way, if you’re wondering what the book’s title really means, my advice is don’t make any sort of assumptions regarding it. a máquina de fazer espanhóis (or, the spanish making machine) is a metaphor. And one that has very little to do with Spain.)
review 2: 'o tempo guarda cápsulas indestrutíveis porque, por mais dias que se sucedam, sempre chegamos a um ponto onde voltamos atrás, a um início qualquer, para fazer pela primeira vez alguma coisa que nos vai dilacerar impiedosamente porque nessa cápsula se injeta também a nitidez do quanto amávamos quem perdemos, a nitidez do seu rosto, que por vezes se perde mas ressurge sempre nessas alturas, até o timbre da sua voz, chamando o nosso nome, ou mais cruel ainda, dizendo que nos ama com um riso incrível pelo qual nos havíamos justificado em mil ocasiões no mundo' less

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