Madera de Boj

by Camilo José Cela

Sacristanes pecadores y alucinados, hombres lobo, pescadores de sardinas y cazadores de ballenas, curas, meigas, sordomudos, suicidas, choronas, curanderas, fornicadores, sirenas, vírgenes martirizadas. las vidas y andanzas de todos ellos acompañan en un continuo fluir a náufragos, desaparecidos y ahogados, habitantes que danzan, como suspendidos, en ese territorio que está entre la vida y la muerte, o quizás más allá de la vida y la muerte.

Madera de Boj nos sitúa en aquel lugar que los romanos entendieron como el fin del mundo, el "Finis Terrae" y, desde allí, Camilo José Cela dirige su mirada maestra hacia la fachada marítima gallega convirtiéndose en puntual notario de la capacidad destructora de la Costa de la Muerte: da fe de los naufragios porque "al tiempo se le puede dar marcha atrás si se le mece con inteligencia y con cariño".


Con una prosa magnífica e innovadora, Camilo José Cela vuelve a sorprendernos con un viaje por una Galicia que nace del alma y vive en el alma; un viaje salpicado por el verdoso tinte de la lujuria y siempre pasado por el filtro del humor y del amor.

Genres: Fiction, Spain, Contemporary

323 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1999

About the author

Camilo José Cela Trulock was a Spaniard writer from Galicia. Prolific author (as a novelist, journalist, essayist, literary magazine editor, lecturer ...), he was a member of the Royal Spanish Academy for 45 years and won, among others, the Prince of Asturias Prize for Literature in 1987, the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1989 ("for a rich and intensive prose, which with restrained compassion forms a challenging vision of man's vulnerability.") and the Cervantes Prize in 1995.

In 1996 King Juan Carlos I granted him, for his literary merits, the title Marquis of Iria Flavia.

His son, Camilo José Cela Conde is also a writer.

See also http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camilo_J...

Reviews

[Luís · Rating 3 out of 5]

The coastal coast of Galicia dominates Madeira de Buxo, which uses the ancient land/sea opposition exemplified by the inventory (which runs through the entire text) of ships that sank in the region. It is one of the guiding threads of the narrative, or the litany, as you like, and represents the instability surrounding existence. The other is Dick's (the narrator's ancestor) desire for a house built with boxwood beams, an unrealized and romantic longing, an attempt at fixation and security in the ongoing flux of things. Therefore, we struggle between what is familiar to us and what is unknown, which we associate with danger and death: "we would all like to know the mystery of death. It turns out that God is very quiet and does not usually say the words of things to men, maybe that's free will..."
It's a strange book, reporting many facts tersely and emotionally. It reveals itself to be unruly and unbridled. Good book, but difficult to read. Difficult to follow.

[Teresa · Rating 1 out of 5]

As cinco dezenas de páginas que li devem ser suficientes para expiar, no mínimo, metade dos meus pecados...


_____________
Prémio Nobel da Literatura 1989
Camilo José Cela nasceu em Espanha (Padrón - Galiza) em 11 de maio de 1916 e morreu em Espanha (Madrid) em 17 de janeiro de 2002.

[Богиня Книдска · Rating 1 out of 5]

Не, това не мога да го дочета. Стилът 'поток на съзнанието' ми идва твърде в повече.

[Jenna · Rating 3 out of 5]

I actually read more than half of this, albeit with some skipping around, so I'm not counting it as abandoned even though I'm putting it down, since there is no story line, just the accretion of sentences describing life and death. Lots of death - so many shipwrecks recounted with a tallying of rescues and lives lost. Then the interspersed observations about people in the village, mentioned, skipped over, circled back to, building a slow steady picture of the village as if you lived there, without needing a narrative arch to know people. This is highly experimental writing of course, and so I found some sections captivating and others exhausting, hence the skimming and skipping. If I read and discussed with others I'm sure that I would get more out of it, for example contemplating the layered means of the touchstone boxwood, with physical strength and healing properties. Even with the articulation needed in writing this review, I like the book more than I thought and changed my stars from 2 to 3.

[Juan José · Rating 5 out of 5]

Catalogo de desastres marítimos, leyendas de Galicia... Un libro escrito a la manera joyceana de "stream of conscious". Libro raro, pero que se disfruta por el lenguaje mismo con el que está construido.

[Becky · Rating 3 out of 5]

No ha estado mal. No suelo interesarme por libros sin trama o sin personajes, pero estoy intentando leer otro tipo de literatura a la que estoy acostumbrada, para darles una oportunidad, y aunque no me ha parecido una maravilla de lectura tampoco me ha desilusionado con este estilo literario. Es un libro que por momentos he cogido con hambre y por momentos me ha dado mucha pereza.

Cosas que me gustaron: me parece que se aprecia mucho más si se lee en su versión original y por una persona galega o muy familiarizada con el galego y su cultura. Está plagado de referencias muy específicas a Galicia e idiosincrasia. El libro presenta mucha información sobre Galicia y sus habitantes de forma desordenada y a primera vista inconexa. Realmente es un reflejo "de la vida misma" que desdibuja las fronteras entre la vida y la muerte, "como la vida misma". No me ha dejado del todo indiferente, creo que transmite justo lo que pretende.

Cosas que no me gustaron: es machacón y repetitivo, y aunque creo que es parte del ambiente que pretende crear, se pasa un poco. Lo habría publicado más corto, mencionando la mitad de accidentes marítimos (a veces menciona 15 seguidos, creo que no hacen falta tantos a lo largo de tantas páginas para quedarnos ya con la sensación de pesadez que se pretende). Esa es la principal pega que le veo a la obra, innecesariamente larga y machacona cuando con la mitad de páginas y sin dejarse nada o casi nada en el tintero podría haber seguido transmitiendo esa sensación de que todo da muchas vueltas de manera liosa que pretende transmitir. Y por último, y aunque no me sorprende me decepciona, sería un puntazo que se tratara a las mujeres con un mínimo de dignidad, ya que a lo largo de todo el libro las mujeres solo tienen cabida como fulanas, cocineras o sacos de boxeo. Me sorprende que después de mencionar a todo el pueblo, no mencione una sola mujer que haga algo más allá de ser hermosa, o ser fea pero acostarse con muchos hombres, o prostituirse, o parir hijos, o cocinar que te cagas a los hombres, o sacarse tíos de encima... En fin, ya sabéis por donde voy, siempre en relación a los tíos, y aún encima ni en estas relaciones salen bien paradas.

[Carlos · Rating 1 out of 5]

El Cela éste se nota que era un desgraciado de cuidado y medio loco porque esto carece de un sentido en general. Son todo datos y fragmentos de historias en frases básicamente, sin puntos. En orden, habrían 10 págs salvables de 300... Algunos microrelatos tienen buena pinta pero ya está.

"Me he propuesto terminarlo como castigo nocturno." No sé porqué hice tremenda memez. Un libro abominable y casposo. El "Naked Lunch" de un abuelo facha cocido en una barra de bar apunto de abrirse la cabeza contra baldosas pegajosas.

[Paula · Rating 3 out of 5]

Sigue el estilo de libros anteriores de Cela, como Mazurca para dos muertos, San Camilo 1936 o Cristo versus Arizona, pero no me ha parecido que estuviera a la altura. No tiene ni la intensidad ni la fuerza de estos otros. Lo dejé a la mitad.

[Teresa Plata]

Me lo tendré que reeler

[Catarina Lopes · Rating 1 out of 5]

não gostei

[Fernanda De Fuentes · Rating 1 out of 5]

Not my kind of book

[Zach Tarr · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's September, the month that marks the season of change. Just saying September out loud is like the switching on of some semiotical bat signal inside your mind, one which forces you to search your closet to find your favorite jeans and best flannel shirt, the word itself is at least a reminder to check Starbucks to see if pumpkin spice lattes have returned. Nostalgia during this time of year is important, I mean, how else are you expected to confront the returning 'beginning of the end' of another year? How many more do you have left? Years, I mean... Probably not many... Do you hear the ocean yet? The sea that comes and goes like a heartbeat of a pendulum of a grandfather clock. Tick - it's summer, tock - it's winter. Each change of seasons is like cresting and then receding waves, creating winds that come and go whoosh, whoosh, whoosh in between reminding you that time is passing. Maybe if you focus on repeating your seasonal habits more enthusiastically, that sound will become a little more distant. Everybody has to make do with what they have, for time marches on for all of us, and the barometer that foretells joy and misfortune has yet to be invented. Maybe there's a good book to distract you.

Don't worry fam', I got you. Luckily, the death of another hellashish summer brings another rebirth of Hispanic Heritage Month, perfect timing to introduce some Day of the Dead lovers into your life and let them brighten you up a little. But, since Hispanic heritage doesn't officially start until the 15th, I'm going to cheat a little by bragging about a Galician writer. Let's read about how he approached death, maybe in doing so, we can ignore the fact that we're unconsciously doing the same. So, who better to share in the decay of time than with your boy, Camilo Jose Cela? Whose career shined brightest through his prose on the cycles of life/death. He loved to show the dependency of the two on one another, and in doing so, he was often able to dissolve the line that separated them. His last novel, Boxwood, did the same, but he kind of switched it up a little bit. This book is a little garbled, like life itself. It's a fictional firsthand account from a local Galician who is sharing some of the local folklore with another local. They talk about witches, ghosts, superstitions, oddball remedies, mermaids, cooking recipes, shipwrecks, and the other locals. There is no plot, because "life has no plot, when we believe that we are going to one place to perform certain heroic deeds the compass wavers wildly and carries us helter-skelter wherever it wishes: to the schoolyard, the brothel, the clink, or directly to the graveyard, also death begins to weave its disorienting, bewildering dance, the bagpipe drones with a hoarse sound, why in my family have we not been able to build a house with boxwood beams?"

Is this book as badass as Cela's other novels? No, but it's definitely a fitting book for him to go out on. Dude never stopped being a Spaniard, all of these mystical stories that are being told in this book, are all meant to be representative of how a location generates a culture, maybe not a culture, but some sort of invisible set of stories that helps to link everyone together. something for them to pass and share to keep the old storytellers and cray cray (but in a good way) people alive. It can range from the fantastical to local gossip. But they interchange with the real and unreal. Cela was always big on the fact that you only live as long as someone remembers you, hence the focus on the day of the dead, which I don't think he ever directly talked about, anyways, it's an event where we remember to keep the dead alive, not as flesh, but as a legend. It turns a grave into something more than just bones and stones. The only problem is that there's no permanence, even a good story can be forgotten. Cela had some very good stories, but sadly, this book is one that's been mostly forgotten. But to show you how good of a writer he was, just take the title of the book. This is just another great example of his ability to interchange perspectives and unite dichotomies. Boxwood is a type of wood that was popular for creating miniature sculptures. They're known for their lasting durability. The only mention of Boxwood in the novel is about a minor character who wanted to build a house out of boxwood, so it could last, but he couldn't, because the branches are so small. In the same way that Cela wants to make a story that could make him live forever, only his words are not enough. The only boxwood he can look forward to is the box of wood he was ultimately buried in. The ocean gets us all, but that's ok, because "The underbelly of all these horizons is gold, it does not envelop gold, gold foxes, gold rorquals, gold gulls, but is enveloped by gold leaving no room for the foxes rorquals or gulls, through Cornwall, Brittany, and Galicia there wends a way strewn with crosses and nuggets of gold which leads to the heaven of those seafarers perished at sea"

Life is good. Hope y'all make some legendary stories

[Howard · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is the last novel of the celebrated Spanish Nobel author, 3 years before he died in 2002. I normally write a precis on the story and the main characters however I can't; this is because there are neither. The reason being this is a sort of stream of conciousness reflective word picture with the occassional E A Poe poem extract. The thread on which the narrative hangs is shipping accidents around the Galician coast literally naming ships and the number of hands lost, perhaps cargo aftermath. Folk history and folk lore, boxwood as a construction material and repeated names are threaded though too e.g Father Xiao who exists but is dead or James E Allen who no longer plays cricket, a lot of cousins and acquaintances of the unnamed narrator etc. There is no story but huge cast. Quite often there are pages and pages of a single sentence linking all the ideas and people. There are nonetheless a lot of imaginative things happening which probably have some historical basis but one can't be sure.

Here is a short extract at random to give you a flavour:

, the Basque tuna boat Playa de Arrizar was struck and sunk by the French container Artois, one perished, six went missing and there were five survivors, among seafarers a dead man is one whose body the sea gives up while a missing person is someone the sea swallows up forever and never returns, pancakes laced with aguardiente are the key to Telmo Tembura's heart and memory, when you ply him with pancakes, aguardiente and a cheap cigar Telmo Tembura tells eerie tales of Pindo Hill and the earthquake that altered the course of the river Xallas, people's characters are like jam stains,

This is a strangely interesting existential read, and possibly unique in style. The book is difficult and challenging but not actually a strain to read i.e. it is readable. Though I usually seek out such alternative novels and often invariably end up disappointed - it curiously holds your attention. I think the idea is to reflect the passage of time and life in an atomic, unchanging, repetitive way yet reflect the ever changing colour of lives and people. A clever different read but please don't expect a story.
I think the last sentence of the book summaries Cela's idea/concept: "there wends a way strewn with crosses and nuggets of gold which leads to the heaven of those seafarers perished at sea".

[Adelina · Rating 2 out of 5]

Странна, необикновена книга, за която не мога еднозначно да кажа: харесах/не харесах. Още след първите страници ми напомни "Врява и безумство" на Фокнър заради дългите изречения, в които се преплитат мисли, нямащи никаква връзка помежду си. В тази книга обаче настроението е по-ведро. Имах чувството, че книгата е писана на някой оживен испански площад, където авторът е записвал всяко изречение, дочуто от хилядите разговори около него. Страниците са изпълнени с круширали кораби, морски вълни, неверни жени и всякакви чудати личности. Изреченията се простират на по няколко страници, тук-там се вмъква диалог между неназовани герои и фрази на галисийски. Спокойно може да се чете без ред - отваряш на случайна страница и се забавляваш от необичайните съвместявания на събития, поверия и мечти без да се страхуваш, че ще пропуснеш нишката на събитията - такава няма.

[Nikos Pappas · Rating 5 out of 5]

ψάχνοντας ποιον άλλο Λατινοαμερικάνο να διαβάσω, έστω Ισπανό, 100 χρόνια μοναξιάς μετά από την πρώτη επαφή με τον Μαρκές, έπεσα στον Θέλα. αν διαβάσουμε τη ζωή του, φαίνεται κλασική φρανκική συντηρητικούρα, με την ενδιαφέρουσα αντίφαση εργασίας στο Τμήμα Λογοκρισίας και θύμα της ίδιας Υπηρεσίας, ταυτόχρονα, χωρίς, λέει, να χάνει την πίστη του στον Caudillo. άβυσσος. H Κυψέλη είναι το magnum opus, Η οικογένεια του Πασκουάλ Ντουάρτε ξεκίνησε την παράδοση των ισπανόφωνων τίτλων με ονοματεπώνυμο (πώς λέμε, Ποιος σκότωσε τον Παλομίνο Μολέρο, ο Θάνατος του Αρτέμιο Κρουζ και πάει λέγοντας) και θεωρείται ο ισπανικός Ξένος (μερσί Μερσώ). παρ' όλα αυτά κόλλησα στο Πυξάρι, το οποίο βρήκα ποίηση και λυρισμό γεμάτο.
ίσως διένυα περίοδο κυνικού ντεφορμαρίσματος.

[Pete · Rating 5 out of 5]

It's a beautiful book that is best read in one sitting and though you may be confused throughout the whole thing, it is worth finishing.

[Moureco · Rating 1 out of 5]

Não me obriguem a ler mais Cela!... não tenho qualquer intenção de terminar este livro!

[Ο σιδεράς · Rating 2 out of 5]

K

[SONNY CASH]

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