There is an ominous, and delicious, aura of fear right from the start of this novel. You can instantly sense that things are going to go wrong, you just don’t know when, much like the feeling you get when watching an Alfred Hitchcock film.
Rather than being annoying, the obvious foreshadowing exacerbates the tension. Sentences like this, “Even later, after they had replaced the water tank and the pipe and there was running water in the bathroom, J. went on bathing in the crystalline stream until the end,” begin early on and continue throughout the novel.
J. and his girlfriend Elena have come to a remote finca (country estate) where they plan to live in the remote and beautiful environment of Colombia. It takes four and a half hours by boat to arrive at their destination from the nearest town. Once they arrive, problem after problem slowly emerges.
Their house is filthy, and apart from the kitchen, basically unusable until Elena clears out the rubbish and scrubs its entirety. Their money, entrusted to J.’s unreliable relative, is gone when he declares bankruptcy. The wares for the store they set up arrive considerably short of what they’d ordered. And over all this potential disaster is the unremitting presence of alcohol, aguardiente, a distilled liquor made in South America from sugar cane.
Forced to consider cutting down the trees on his land for timber to sell, J. writes in his journal, “I’ll be forced to practice the Ancient Art of Axmanship, as the local poets call it. Make way for civilization, you puny fucking kapoks!” This defiance, even though he knows they are far from puny trees.
In the beginning was…it would only make sense, biblically, that the next thing to follow would be “be fruitful and multiply.” But this is the very thing that J. is unable to do. His cattle die, his timber falls, his relationship with Elena fails. He has the opposite of the Midas touch for nothing turns to gold. Nothing prospers.
How ironic that the novel ends with a scene we encountered early on in the novel. It is the scene of a cemetery, perhaps the most peaceful place in all the book, the place that seemed the least sinister to J.
Based on the true story about the author’s brother, In the Beginning Was the Sea is the third book I have read for the IFFP this year. The writing is spare and elegant, bringing both time and place into bas relief. It is a novel I enjoyed very much and will think about for a long time.
Find another review at A Little Blog Of Books, Never Stop Reading and 1stReading’s Blog.
Very nicely written review. I am saving this one for a bit yet but this has greatly increased my interest.
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I suspect you’ll like it, too. It’s an intriguing story which has been beautifully written.
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I recall reading an interview with the author of this one, if I remember correctly I think he is writing about his brother, an intriguing and tragic story.
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Claire, I should have mentioned that! (I think I’ll go
Back and add it to the review.) Yes, it is Tomas’ brother whom he writes about. He has scraps of letters and journals which probably helped him form the story so completely, but there’s no doubt how well he recreates it for us.
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I’m intrigued by the fact that this novel is based on a true story – I might have to put it on my wishlist! It sounds as if you enjoyed this one 🙂
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Yes, Jacqui, I preferred it to F anyway. 😉
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I really enjoyed this one too. It could well be a dark horse for the IFFP…
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Indeed it could. He was so outstanding in creating the mood for us; I felt I was actually there in the best and humidity of Colombia, living in the small town or sunning on the remote beach.
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I love atmosphere in a book, almost more than I love a well written character. I really do think this is one I would enjoy.
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This is a very easy read, not to be confused with “fast and worthless.” The pages are fairly few, but the mood is a character of itself in a way. You feel you are penetrating the darkness, and it is ominous.
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Lovely review, Bellezza. This sounds like a book that would draw me in quickly. (I visited your blog earlier but had some internet/computer issues, so I had to return to leave my comment.)
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Computer issues…yuck. Thanks for taking the time to return, for always leaving comments here, Suko. You are as faithful and sweet as the day is long.
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This has nothing to do with your review of the book, but I love that cover. Somewhere tucked away at home I have an old black velvet Hawai’ian painting that looks very much like it.
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The cover is so indicative of the contents: dark, mysterious, and verdant. You can feel the heat and humidity of Colombia within his words, as well as within this carefully selected cover. I wouldn’t have thought it resembled a black velvet painting, but then again, the ones I’ve seen are usually with fluorescent colors to contrast with the black.
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