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Last Date in El Zapotal
A junkie looking for one last fix in a town full of ghosts .
This is a ghost story. A junkie has gone to El Zapotal to die – to rent a room in this crumbling backwater, melt into one last fix, and not come back. For someone so ready to no longer be alive, though, he can’t stop clinging to the past. His old dog, Kid, who he abandoned. His love, Valerie, who he introduced to drugs. There’s no such thing as a good memory.
El Zapotal doesn’t want him either. The people aren’t welcoming, the streets are empty except for strays, and he’s having trouble pacing his supply. As the drugs run out, the line between what’s real and what’s not blurs to the point of illegibility, and we’re left wandering a tenderly described hinterland of despair, hunger, and regret. García Elizondo has given us an homage to Pedro Páramo , a descent for the ages, a long goodbye with no clear line between the living and dead.
This is a ghost story. A junkie has gone to El Zapotal to die – to rent a room in this crumbling backwater, melt into one last fix, and not come back. For someone so ready to no longer be alive, though, he can’t stop clinging to the past. His old dog, Kid, who he abandoned. His love, Valerie, who he introduced to drugs. There’s no such thing as a good memory.
El Zapotal doesn’t want him either. The people aren’t welcoming, the streets are empty except for strays, and he’s having trouble pacing his supply. As the drugs run out, the line between what’s real and what’s not blurs to the point of illegibility, and we’re left wandering a tenderly described hinterland of despair, hunger, and regret. García Elizondo has given us an homage to Pedro Páramo , a descent for the ages, a long goodbye with no clear line between the living and dead.
152 pages, Kindle Edition
First published November 6, 2019
About the author
Mateo García Elizondo
3 books50 followersMateo García Elizondo (Ciudad de México, 1987) es licenciado en Letras Inglesas y Escritura Creativa por la Universidad de Westminster en Londres, y cuenta con un posgrado en Periodismo por la London School of Journalism. Ha escrito artículos para medios como National Geographic Traveler Mexico y PijamaSurf. Es guionista del largometraje Desierto (2015, ganador del premio FIPRESCI en el Festival de Cine de Toronto), así como de los cortometrajes Domingo (2013, selección oficial en el Festival de Cine de Morelia) y Clickbait (2018, mejor corto gore en Feratum FilmFest, mención honorífica FICMA 2018).
Su ficción ha aparecido en medios impresos como Epoka Magazine, Revista Alba y Huun. Arte/pensamiento desde México. Vol.1, y su trabajo como guionista de narrativa gráfica ha sido publicado por editoriales como WP Comics Ltd, Premier Comics, Swampline Comics y revistas como Entropy. Una cita con la Lady, publicada por Anagrama en castellano y Feltrinelli Editori en italiano, es su primera novela.
(Fuente: Anagrama)
Su ficción ha aparecido en medios impresos como Epoka Magazine, Revista Alba y Huun. Arte/pensamiento desde México. Vol.1, y su trabajo como guionista de narrativa gráfica ha sido publicado por editoriales como WP Comics Ltd, Premier Comics, Swampline Comics y revistas como Entropy. Una cita con la Lady, publicada por Anagrama en castellano y Feltrinelli Editori en italiano, es su primera novela.
(Fuente: Anagrama)
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January 21, 2025
Juan Rulfo'nun Pedro Paramo'suna selam çakan bir Beat romanı - sanırım Kız'la Randevu'yu tek cümlede özetlesem böyle derdim.
Öncelikle Mateo Garcia Elizondo'nun kim olduğunu söyleyeyim, zira kendisinin damarlarında kan yerine edebiyat akıyor olabilir. Anne tarafından Kolombiyalı Gabriel Garcia Marquez'in, baba tarafından ise Meksikalı Salvador Elizondo'nun torunu. Elizondo bizim dilimize çevrilmediği için hiç okumadım ama Meksika edebiyatının boom kuşağının en önde gelen yazar ve şairlerinden biri ve çoğu boom yazarının aksine büyülü gerçekçilikten uzak durmuş bir isim. Torun Elizondo omuzlarında büyük bir miras taşıyor ve haliyle bu mirasın ağırlığından hoşnut değil, dedeleriyle anılmak istemiyor, çok anlaşılır, o nedenle bu faslı burada kapatıyorum ve kitaba geçiyorum.
Bir eroin bağımlısının son günlerini okuyoruz kitapta. Kitabın adındaki "Kız", argoda eroin anlamında kullanılan bir sözcük, anlatıcımız kendini öldürmeye yetecek dozda uyuşturucuyu yanına alıp bilmediği bir köye gidiyor, orada ölmeye yatmak üzere bir oda tutuyor, işte tüm bu süreçte zihninden geçenleri ve sayıklamalarını okuyoruz.
Ben aslında böyle halüsinatif metinleri pek sevmem ama Kız'la Randevu'yu sevdim. Metnin Pedro Paramo'yu hatırlatması boşa değil; hikayenin geçtiği El Zapotal köyü, Rulfo'nun Comala'sının bir modern zaman versiyonu gibi. Onun da sokaklarında ölüler dolaşıyor, orada da hayalle gerçeklik iç içe geçiyor. Comala'daki gibi bir şiddet yok belki ama modern zamanın en büyük dehşetlerinden biri olan uyuşturucu ve bağımlılık başrolde, bu açıdan aslında Pedro Paramo'dan daha bize yakın bir hikaye anlattığı ve tam da bu nedenle belki daha ürkütücü. Beat Kuşağı romanlarını hatırlatmasının sebebi de işte bu uyuşturucu meselesi ve bir bağımlının halüsinasyonlarını, gerçeklikten kopup geri gelmelerini bolca okuyor olmamız.
Epeyce depresif ve karanlık bir metin, sonlara doğru anlatıcı gibi biz de gerçeklikle bağımızı yitiriyoruz ki bağımlılık tam da böyle bir şey olduğu için bunu yapması yazara eksi değil artı yazıyor kanımca. Çok iyi yazılmış, güçlü ama zor bir minik kitap. Bir ilk roman olarak ayrıca etkileyici olduğunu da not edeyim.
Öncelikle Mateo Garcia Elizondo'nun kim olduğunu söyleyeyim, zira kendisinin damarlarında kan yerine edebiyat akıyor olabilir. Anne tarafından Kolombiyalı Gabriel Garcia Marquez'in, baba tarafından ise Meksikalı Salvador Elizondo'nun torunu. Elizondo bizim dilimize çevrilmediği için hiç okumadım ama Meksika edebiyatının boom kuşağının en önde gelen yazar ve şairlerinden biri ve çoğu boom yazarının aksine büyülü gerçekçilikten uzak durmuş bir isim. Torun Elizondo omuzlarında büyük bir miras taşıyor ve haliyle bu mirasın ağırlığından hoşnut değil, dedeleriyle anılmak istemiyor, çok anlaşılır, o nedenle bu faslı burada kapatıyorum ve kitaba geçiyorum.
Bir eroin bağımlısının son günlerini okuyoruz kitapta. Kitabın adındaki "Kız", argoda eroin anlamında kullanılan bir sözcük, anlatıcımız kendini öldürmeye yetecek dozda uyuşturucuyu yanına alıp bilmediği bir köye gidiyor, orada ölmeye yatmak üzere bir oda tutuyor, işte tüm bu süreçte zihninden geçenleri ve sayıklamalarını okuyoruz.
Ben aslında böyle halüsinatif metinleri pek sevmem ama Kız'la Randevu'yu sevdim. Metnin Pedro Paramo'yu hatırlatması boşa değil; hikayenin geçtiği El Zapotal köyü, Rulfo'nun Comala'sının bir modern zaman versiyonu gibi. Onun da sokaklarında ölüler dolaşıyor, orada da hayalle gerçeklik iç içe geçiyor. Comala'daki gibi bir şiddet yok belki ama modern zamanın en büyük dehşetlerinden biri olan uyuşturucu ve bağımlılık başrolde, bu açıdan aslında Pedro Paramo'dan daha bize yakın bir hikaye anlattığı ve tam da bu nedenle belki daha ürkütücü. Beat Kuşağı romanlarını hatırlatmasının sebebi de işte bu uyuşturucu meselesi ve bir bağımlının halüsinasyonlarını, gerçeklikten kopup geri gelmelerini bolca okuyor olmamız.
Epeyce depresif ve karanlık bir metin, sonlara doğru anlatıcı gibi biz de gerçeklikle bağımızı yitiriyoruz ki bağımlılık tam da böyle bir şey olduğu için bunu yapması yazara eksi değil artı yazıyor kanımca. Çok iyi yazılmış, güçlü ama zor bir minik kitap. Bir ilk roman olarak ayrıca etkileyici olduğunu da not edeyim.
July 7, 2026
Que la muerte llegue tarde tiene algo de comedia miserable. Uno hace sus preparativos, organiza el desastre, se presenta en el sitio convenido con su equipaje de ruina cuidadosamente dispuesto… y la muy señora no aparece a la hora. Mal asunto, porque entonces toca esperar. Pero esperar, en ciertas condiciones, puede ser mucho peor que morirse. Y es que morirse no siempre sale como uno lo planea.
Eso le ocurre al narrador de Una cita con la Lady, un yonqui sin nombre que llega a El Zapotal —el culo del mundo, la última parada de un autobús que tomó sin rumbo—, con una intención bastante clara: terminar de una vez. Lleva una lata con su kit de drogata, opio, heroína y un cuaderno que ya parece confesionario y testamento. Lleva también un cansancio viejo, de esos que ya rozan una forma avanzada de conocimiento. “Vine al Zapotal para morirme de una buena vez”, dice, y la frase coloca el libro en su sitio desde la primera línea: el viaje apunta al final. La rehabilitación, el arrepentimiento con banda sonora edificante y el valor terapéutico de las segundas oportunidades pertenecen a otra novela. Aquí alguien llega a un pueblo medio muerto para hacer coincidir su cuerpo con su deseo de desaparecer.
La trampa, claro, está en que el cuerpo tiene sus propios horarios. Y la Lady —la droga, la muerte, la amante química, la cita final— también. Y sin ella, ¿qué queda? Nada. O peor aún: la conciencia. Esa que no hay forma de pinchar.
La novela de Mateo García Elizondo se mueve en ese tiempo suspendido de las esperas feas: cuando la cabeza va por un lado, las tripas por otro y la memoria se dedica a abrir puertas que nadie le ha pedido que abra. El narrador escribe, recuerda, delira, se arrastra por Zapotal, se cruza con presencias que tienen algo de vecinos y algo de aparecidos, y va dejando en el cuaderno lo que todavía puede formularse antes de que todo termine de deshacerse. La trama —si puede llamarse así— avanza como un tránsito. Un hombre metido en un bucle de cuerpo en huelga, memoria rota, fiebre, mala leche y pensamientos que se quedan encendidos. Demasiado vivo para desaparecer, demasiado roto para seguir.
Y ahí está buena parte de la fuerza del libro: una novela sobre un adicto al borde de la muerte puede hundirse muy fácilmente en dos pantanos, y García Elizondo los bordea con bastante pulso. El primero es el tremendismo: convertir cada página en una exhibición de vómito, temblor y aguja. El segundo es el lirismo de postal oscura: embellecer la destrucción hasta hacerla casi elegante. Una cita con la Lady mantiene el equilibrio. Hay cuerpo, desde luego: hay mono, sudor, degradación, hambre química, una relación con la droga que dejó atrás la fiesta hace mucho tiempo y ahora se limita a una administración de daños. Y, junto a eso, una sequedad que impide que el libro se ponga estupendo. También un humor que aparece a dentelladas, una lucidez torcida que se cuela incluso en el derrumbe. La prosa tiene imágenes, sí, pero rara vez se mira demasiado al espejo.
Esto se agradece muchísimo, porque el material pedía a gritos el exceso. Un pueblo llamado Zapotal, un adicto que quiere morir, fantasmas, culpa, cuaderno, heroína, ecos rulfianos… Con esos ingredientes, otro escritor habría montado una procesión de símbolos con incienso literario. García Elizondo aprieta la frase, deja que el deterioro se cuele en el ritmo y permite que la voz pierda estabilidad sin convertir la confusión en fuegos artificiales. Hay momentos en que la narración parece caminar con fiebre: avanza, se detiene, vuelve sobre una imagen, se distrae con un recuerdo, regresa al cuerpo, se ríe de sí misma y de pronto descubre que la risa también cansa. La prosa se arrastra, pesa, se queda pegada. Y ese pulso enfermo es la respiración misma del libro.
Zapotal, por supuesto, carga con una sombra enorme: Comala. Sería absurdo fingir que Pedro Páramo no ronda por aquí, porque ronda. Está en el pueblo detenido, en los muertos que parecen demasiado presentes, en esa sensación de que el paisaje está esperando al personaje desde antes. Pero el mundo de Una cita con la Lady es más sucio, más químico, menos mítico. Si Comala parece levantada sobre murmullos, Zapotal parece levantado sobre resaca, polvo, enfermedad y mala digestión espiritual. Hay algo de Rulfo, sí, pero pasado por la aguja, por el cuaderno de un tipo que ya no distingue del todo entre aparición, recuerdo, síndrome de abstinencia y ajuste de cuentas. En ese territorio, la lucidez y la alucinación se parecen demasiado.
También asoma Malcolm Lowry y su Bajo el volcán, sobre todo en esa idea del descenso como paseo terminal, con el cuerpo convertido en brújula averiada. Y hasta puede entenderse esa fórmula que ha circulado alrededor del libro, Trainspotting en Comala: es buena, vende bien, se recuerda y tiene bastante puntería. Pero Irvine Welsh trabajaba desde una energía coral, callejera, salvaje, casi punk, con una pandilla que amortiguaba el golpe y repartía la toxicidad entre varios cuerpos; García Elizondo la concentra en una sola conciencia y la sigue hasta donde puede seguirla. La explosión de grupo deriva aquí en una combustión lenta, en una habitación mal ventilada, aunque la habitación sea un pueblo entero.
Lo que me interesa del protagonista es su falta de pose. Está hecho polvo, desde luego, pero conserva la lucidez torcida de quien todavía puede observar su propia ruina sin convertirla en estatua. A ratos da pena, a ratos irrita, a ratos resulta casi cómico en su obstinación de muerto con retraso. Ese matiz salva la novela de la solemnidad. Porque la adicción, tal como aparece aquí, está hecha de ridículo, dependencia, cálculo, miseria logística, pequeñas negociaciones con el cuerpo. Arrastra esa humillación tan concreta de necesitar algo que ya ni siquiera promete placer, solo una tregua.
Por eso la Lady —ese hallazgo narrativo y simbólico— funciona tan bien: porque nunca se queda quieta en una sola casilla. En ella caben la heroína, la muerte que no llega cuando debe, la amante química, la promesa de apagar el ruido, la cita a la que el narrador acude con una puntualidad suicida. Hay algo casi romántico en esa espera, pero de un romanticismo podrido, de motel barato, con las sábanas pegajosas y el alma hecha un trapo. La novela juega con esa ambigüedad sin convertirla en acertijo: la Lady manda antes de que podamos fijarla en una sola definición.
Uno termina recordando Una cita con la Lady como si la hubiera leído dentro de un cuarto sin aire. A mí, al menos, me dejó la sensación de estar ahí encerrado con él. Pero en realidad el libro respira —si esa palabra se puede usar aquí sin llamar a emergencias— a través de Zapotal y de sus figuras laterales. Las demás criaturas son apenas presencias: un susurro, una sombra, restos, manchas, cuerpos entrevistos desde una conciencia alterada. Su fuerza está en esa condición lateral: funcionan como interferencias en la frecuencia del narrador. Cada aparición parece preguntar lo mismo de otra manera: cuánto queda de mundo cuando uno ya ha decidido abandonarlo.
Y lo más interesante es que el mundo, por poco que quede, insiste. Ahí está la crueldad del asunto. El narrador quiere irse, pero el cuerpo insiste. La memoria insiste. El pueblo insiste. Los muertos, o lo que sea que se le aparece, insisten. Hasta el lenguaje insiste. Porque en este libro escribir sirve para aguantar unas horas más. El cuaderno es confesionario, testamento y último refugio de una conciencia que registra la experiencia mientras se pudre. El dolor queda ahí, con su tristeza limpia, respirando mal.
Quizá por eso me ha convencido tanto. Porque su brevedad engaña. Son unas doscientas páginas, pero pesan como una noche larga: la novela te obliga a quedarte en una temperatura mental que no apetece habitar. Y, aun así, hay placer lector. Un placer raro, desde luego, nada confortable: el de una voz sostenida con pulso, el de una atmósfera que no se desinfla, el de un debut que podría haber convertido los apellidos ilustres de su autor —nieto de Gabriel García Márquez y de Salvador Elizondo— en coartada, pero elige meterse en un callejón bastante menos decorativo.
Esas herencias literarias están a la vista, claro, pero la novela las ensucia, las intoxica y las lleva a un territorio donde la tradición mexicana del pueblo espectral se cruza con la literatura de la adicción, el delirio y el cuerpo vencido.
El resultado conserva aristas: algunas insistencias forman parte del propio mecanismo del libro y pueden fatigar a quien necesite una narración más aireada. Pero incluso esa fatiga juega a favor de la experiencia. De Zapotal no se sale fresco, duchado y con ganas de comentar el simbolismo tomando una taza de café. Se sale como si uno hubiera pasado la noche en ese cuarto. Como si hubiera aguantado el mono de otro y no supiera muy bien qué hacer con eso.
Y eso, para mí, vale cinco estrellas.
Porque Una cita con la Lady tiene algo que muchas novelas más pulidas no consiguen: una voz que parece necesaria. Áspera, febril, nada complaciente. Necesaria. Como si ese narrador, antes de desaparecer, hubiera tenido que dejar escrito el temblor exacto de su última espera. Y cuando cierras el libro, la Lady sigue ahí: esa presencia que se ha quedado un rato más de la cuenta en la habitación.
DC
Eso le ocurre al narrador de Una cita con la Lady, un yonqui sin nombre que llega a El Zapotal —el culo del mundo, la última parada de un autobús que tomó sin rumbo—, con una intención bastante clara: terminar de una vez. Lleva una lata con su kit de drogata, opio, heroína y un cuaderno que ya parece confesionario y testamento. Lleva también un cansancio viejo, de esos que ya rozan una forma avanzada de conocimiento. “Vine al Zapotal para morirme de una buena vez”, dice, y la frase coloca el libro en su sitio desde la primera línea: el viaje apunta al final. La rehabilitación, el arrepentimiento con banda sonora edificante y el valor terapéutico de las segundas oportunidades pertenecen a otra novela. Aquí alguien llega a un pueblo medio muerto para hacer coincidir su cuerpo con su deseo de desaparecer.
La trampa, claro, está en que el cuerpo tiene sus propios horarios. Y la Lady —la droga, la muerte, la amante química, la cita final— también. Y sin ella, ¿qué queda? Nada. O peor aún: la conciencia. Esa que no hay forma de pinchar.
La novela de Mateo García Elizondo se mueve en ese tiempo suspendido de las esperas feas: cuando la cabeza va por un lado, las tripas por otro y la memoria se dedica a abrir puertas que nadie le ha pedido que abra. El narrador escribe, recuerda, delira, se arrastra por Zapotal, se cruza con presencias que tienen algo de vecinos y algo de aparecidos, y va dejando en el cuaderno lo que todavía puede formularse antes de que todo termine de deshacerse. La trama —si puede llamarse así— avanza como un tránsito. Un hombre metido en un bucle de cuerpo en huelga, memoria rota, fiebre, mala leche y pensamientos que se quedan encendidos. Demasiado vivo para desaparecer, demasiado roto para seguir.
Y ahí está buena parte de la fuerza del libro: una novela sobre un adicto al borde de la muerte puede hundirse muy fácilmente en dos pantanos, y García Elizondo los bordea con bastante pulso. El primero es el tremendismo: convertir cada página en una exhibición de vómito, temblor y aguja. El segundo es el lirismo de postal oscura: embellecer la destrucción hasta hacerla casi elegante. Una cita con la Lady mantiene el equilibrio. Hay cuerpo, desde luego: hay mono, sudor, degradación, hambre química, una relación con la droga que dejó atrás la fiesta hace mucho tiempo y ahora se limita a una administración de daños. Y, junto a eso, una sequedad que impide que el libro se ponga estupendo. También un humor que aparece a dentelladas, una lucidez torcida que se cuela incluso en el derrumbe. La prosa tiene imágenes, sí, pero rara vez se mira demasiado al espejo.
Esto se agradece muchísimo, porque el material pedía a gritos el exceso. Un pueblo llamado Zapotal, un adicto que quiere morir, fantasmas, culpa, cuaderno, heroína, ecos rulfianos… Con esos ingredientes, otro escritor habría montado una procesión de símbolos con incienso literario. García Elizondo aprieta la frase, deja que el deterioro se cuele en el ritmo y permite que la voz pierda estabilidad sin convertir la confusión en fuegos artificiales. Hay momentos en que la narración parece caminar con fiebre: avanza, se detiene, vuelve sobre una imagen, se distrae con un recuerdo, regresa al cuerpo, se ríe de sí misma y de pronto descubre que la risa también cansa. La prosa se arrastra, pesa, se queda pegada. Y ese pulso enfermo es la respiración misma del libro.
Zapotal, por supuesto, carga con una sombra enorme: Comala. Sería absurdo fingir que Pedro Páramo no ronda por aquí, porque ronda. Está en el pueblo detenido, en los muertos que parecen demasiado presentes, en esa sensación de que el paisaje está esperando al personaje desde antes. Pero el mundo de Una cita con la Lady es más sucio, más químico, menos mítico. Si Comala parece levantada sobre murmullos, Zapotal parece levantado sobre resaca, polvo, enfermedad y mala digestión espiritual. Hay algo de Rulfo, sí, pero pasado por la aguja, por el cuaderno de un tipo que ya no distingue del todo entre aparición, recuerdo, síndrome de abstinencia y ajuste de cuentas. En ese territorio, la lucidez y la alucinación se parecen demasiado.
También asoma Malcolm Lowry y su Bajo el volcán, sobre todo en esa idea del descenso como paseo terminal, con el cuerpo convertido en brújula averiada. Y hasta puede entenderse esa fórmula que ha circulado alrededor del libro, Trainspotting en Comala: es buena, vende bien, se recuerda y tiene bastante puntería. Pero Irvine Welsh trabajaba desde una energía coral, callejera, salvaje, casi punk, con una pandilla que amortiguaba el golpe y repartía la toxicidad entre varios cuerpos; García Elizondo la concentra en una sola conciencia y la sigue hasta donde puede seguirla. La explosión de grupo deriva aquí en una combustión lenta, en una habitación mal ventilada, aunque la habitación sea un pueblo entero.
Lo que me interesa del protagonista es su falta de pose. Está hecho polvo, desde luego, pero conserva la lucidez torcida de quien todavía puede observar su propia ruina sin convertirla en estatua. A ratos da pena, a ratos irrita, a ratos resulta casi cómico en su obstinación de muerto con retraso. Ese matiz salva la novela de la solemnidad. Porque la adicción, tal como aparece aquí, está hecha de ridículo, dependencia, cálculo, miseria logística, pequeñas negociaciones con el cuerpo. Arrastra esa humillación tan concreta de necesitar algo que ya ni siquiera promete placer, solo una tregua.
Por eso la Lady —ese hallazgo narrativo y simbólico— funciona tan bien: porque nunca se queda quieta en una sola casilla. En ella caben la heroína, la muerte que no llega cuando debe, la amante química, la promesa de apagar el ruido, la cita a la que el narrador acude con una puntualidad suicida. Hay algo casi romántico en esa espera, pero de un romanticismo podrido, de motel barato, con las sábanas pegajosas y el alma hecha un trapo. La novela juega con esa ambigüedad sin convertirla en acertijo: la Lady manda antes de que podamos fijarla en una sola definición.
Uno termina recordando Una cita con la Lady como si la hubiera leído dentro de un cuarto sin aire. A mí, al menos, me dejó la sensación de estar ahí encerrado con él. Pero en realidad el libro respira —si esa palabra se puede usar aquí sin llamar a emergencias— a través de Zapotal y de sus figuras laterales. Las demás criaturas son apenas presencias: un susurro, una sombra, restos, manchas, cuerpos entrevistos desde una conciencia alterada. Su fuerza está en esa condición lateral: funcionan como interferencias en la frecuencia del narrador. Cada aparición parece preguntar lo mismo de otra manera: cuánto queda de mundo cuando uno ya ha decidido abandonarlo.
Y lo más interesante es que el mundo, por poco que quede, insiste. Ahí está la crueldad del asunto. El narrador quiere irse, pero el cuerpo insiste. La memoria insiste. El pueblo insiste. Los muertos, o lo que sea que se le aparece, insisten. Hasta el lenguaje insiste. Porque en este libro escribir sirve para aguantar unas horas más. El cuaderno es confesionario, testamento y último refugio de una conciencia que registra la experiencia mientras se pudre. El dolor queda ahí, con su tristeza limpia, respirando mal.
Quizá por eso me ha convencido tanto. Porque su brevedad engaña. Son unas doscientas páginas, pero pesan como una noche larga: la novela te obliga a quedarte en una temperatura mental que no apetece habitar. Y, aun así, hay placer lector. Un placer raro, desde luego, nada confortable: el de una voz sostenida con pulso, el de una atmósfera que no se desinfla, el de un debut que podría haber convertido los apellidos ilustres de su autor —nieto de Gabriel García Márquez y de Salvador Elizondo— en coartada, pero elige meterse en un callejón bastante menos decorativo.
Esas herencias literarias están a la vista, claro, pero la novela las ensucia, las intoxica y las lleva a un territorio donde la tradición mexicana del pueblo espectral se cruza con la literatura de la adicción, el delirio y el cuerpo vencido.
El resultado conserva aristas: algunas insistencias forman parte del propio mecanismo del libro y pueden fatigar a quien necesite una narración más aireada. Pero incluso esa fatiga juega a favor de la experiencia. De Zapotal no se sale fresco, duchado y con ganas de comentar el simbolismo tomando una taza de café. Se sale como si uno hubiera pasado la noche en ese cuarto. Como si hubiera aguantado el mono de otro y no supiera muy bien qué hacer con eso.
Y eso, para mí, vale cinco estrellas.
Porque Una cita con la Lady tiene algo que muchas novelas más pulidas no consiguen: una voz que parece necesaria. Áspera, febril, nada complaciente. Necesaria. Como si ese narrador, antes de desaparecer, hubiera tenido que dejar escrito el temblor exacto de su última espera. Y cuando cierras el libro, la Lady sigue ahí: esa presencia que se ha quedado un rato más de la cuenta en la habitación.
DC
June 23, 2024
That’s where I live now, that’s what this whole town is: limbo. That’s what heroin is too. You’re halfway between the world of the living and the world of the dead, and neither wants to deal with you.
Last Date in El Zapotal (2024) is Robin Myers translation of Una cita con la Lady (2019) by Mateo García Elizondo. It begins (translation and original):
I came to El Zapotal to die once and for all. I emptied my pockets as soon as I set foot in the town, tossing the keys to the house I left behind in the city, my credit card, anything with my name or photograph. All I've got left are three thousand pesos, twenty grams of opium, and a quarter-ounce of heroin, which had better be enough to kill me.
«Vine a Zapotal para morirme de una buena vez. En cuanto puse un pie en el pueblo me deshice de lo que traía en los bolsillos, de las llaves de la casa que dejé abandonada en la ciudad, y de todo el plástico, todo lo que tenía mi nombre o la fotografía de mi rostro. No me quedan más que tres mil pesos, doscientos gramos de goma de opio y un cuarto de onza de heroína, y con esto me tiene que alcanzar para matarme.»
The opening lines a very deliberate echo of Rulfo's Pedro Páramo's “Vine a Comala porque me dijeron que acá vivía mi padre, un tal Pedro Páramo.” ("I came to Comala because I was told my father lived here, a man called Pedro Páramo" in the translation by Douglas J. Weatherford).
Our narrator has come to El Zapotal for a last date with his "skinny bride", heroin, one he expects, hopes even, to be fatal, having lost many of his friends to the same drug, his dog through neglect and his love, Valerie, to an OD. El Zapotal, founded as an encampment for the lumber trade, really is at the end of civilisation, with the forest fighting back by reclaiming the village:
From what I've heard, the village was founded as an encampment for the lumber trade, because that's all this place has to offer, the only thing of interest.To encourage the expansion of the settlement, the government brought in prostitutes from all over the state, and the outpost started by lumberjacks and whores became El Zapotal. Besides the mostly humble houses, there's a scattering of farms, a couple of sawmills, a chapel, two abandoned haciendas, a convenience store, and a cantina. The dirt road into town exists only for the lumber lorries, laden with amputated trunks, plus the occasional bus, like the one that brought me here. These are the only means of transport into this wasteland, supplying enough beer, cigarettes and Coca-Cola to give the village an illusory air of civilisation.
The town, rather like Comala, exists, particularly in the narrator's mind in a liminal state, with him unclear if the interactions he has are imaginary, if those he interacts with are real or ghosts, and indeed which state he is in:
When your mind is no longer preoccupied with sensation, with seeking pleasure and dodging pain and disgust, there's a void that opens up, and it starts to fill with shadows, fantastical forms sculpted from the residues of sanity that wash up on the shores of consciousness. Your memory falters, and you fall into a spiral of oblivion that corrodes everything your life once was. But some still-active part of the brain recycles everything that's been buried and anaesthetised, turns it all into a kind of perpetual daydream, totally indistinguishable from everyday life. Reality takes on the bizarre texture of hallucination, and your memories of your life and your dreams become more or less indistinguishable: vague, fragmentary, garbled, and absurd.
Myers translation captures this liminal sense perfectly, and in an afterword she explains how she captured the two types of dream in the prose: "oneiric curiosity and nightmarish dread".
While a nod to Rulfo's work, the novel's key inspiration lies in the tradition of beat literature, and that on the experience of drugs in particular, such as William S. Burroughs (see e.g. this Spanish-language interview). More accurately, the author explains his interest in the process of altered consciousness, where near-death experiences and those of certain drugs, allow him to explore the topic.
But that's ultimately the big issue I had with this book - that's probably my least favourite sub-genre of literary fiction, so a reluctant 2 stars for personal taste as not a novel I appreciated at all, while one I would commend in terms of its literary quality amongst its type.
Last Date in El Zapotal (2024) is Robin Myers translation of Una cita con la Lady (2019) by Mateo García Elizondo. It begins (translation and original):
I came to El Zapotal to die once and for all. I emptied my pockets as soon as I set foot in the town, tossing the keys to the house I left behind in the city, my credit card, anything with my name or photograph. All I've got left are three thousand pesos, twenty grams of opium, and a quarter-ounce of heroin, which had better be enough to kill me.
«Vine a Zapotal para morirme de una buena vez. En cuanto puse un pie en el pueblo me deshice de lo que traía en los bolsillos, de las llaves de la casa que dejé abandonada en la ciudad, y de todo el plástico, todo lo que tenía mi nombre o la fotografía de mi rostro. No me quedan más que tres mil pesos, doscientos gramos de goma de opio y un cuarto de onza de heroína, y con esto me tiene que alcanzar para matarme.»
The opening lines a very deliberate echo of Rulfo's Pedro Páramo's “Vine a Comala porque me dijeron que acá vivía mi padre, un tal Pedro Páramo.” ("I came to Comala because I was told my father lived here, a man called Pedro Páramo" in the translation by Douglas J. Weatherford).
Our narrator has come to El Zapotal for a last date with his "skinny bride", heroin, one he expects, hopes even, to be fatal, having lost many of his friends to the same drug, his dog through neglect and his love, Valerie, to an OD. El Zapotal, founded as an encampment for the lumber trade, really is at the end of civilisation, with the forest fighting back by reclaiming the village:
From what I've heard, the village was founded as an encampment for the lumber trade, because that's all this place has to offer, the only thing of interest.To encourage the expansion of the settlement, the government brought in prostitutes from all over the state, and the outpost started by lumberjacks and whores became El Zapotal. Besides the mostly humble houses, there's a scattering of farms, a couple of sawmills, a chapel, two abandoned haciendas, a convenience store, and a cantina. The dirt road into town exists only for the lumber lorries, laden with amputated trunks, plus the occasional bus, like the one that brought me here. These are the only means of transport into this wasteland, supplying enough beer, cigarettes and Coca-Cola to give the village an illusory air of civilisation.
The town, rather like Comala, exists, particularly in the narrator's mind in a liminal state, with him unclear if the interactions he has are imaginary, if those he interacts with are real or ghosts, and indeed which state he is in:
When your mind is no longer preoccupied with sensation, with seeking pleasure and dodging pain and disgust, there's a void that opens up, and it starts to fill with shadows, fantastical forms sculpted from the residues of sanity that wash up on the shores of consciousness. Your memory falters, and you fall into a spiral of oblivion that corrodes everything your life once was. But some still-active part of the brain recycles everything that's been buried and anaesthetised, turns it all into a kind of perpetual daydream, totally indistinguishable from everyday life. Reality takes on the bizarre texture of hallucination, and your memories of your life and your dreams become more or less indistinguishable: vague, fragmentary, garbled, and absurd.
Myers translation captures this liminal sense perfectly, and in an afterword she explains how she captured the two types of dream in the prose: "oneiric curiosity and nightmarish dread".
While a nod to Rulfo's work, the novel's key inspiration lies in the tradition of beat literature, and that on the experience of drugs in particular, such as William S. Burroughs (see e.g. this Spanish-language interview). More accurately, the author explains his interest in the process of altered consciousness, where near-death experiences and those of certain drugs, allow him to explore the topic.
But that's ultimately the big issue I had with this book - that's probably my least favourite sub-genre of literary fiction, so a reluctant 2 stars for personal taste as not a novel I appreciated at all, while one I would commend in terms of its literary quality amongst its type.
January 23, 2025
Liminality, memory, loss regret over missed chances; this account of a trip by a junkie to the titular village in the middle of nowhere ponders the potential for rebirth and change at any point in one’s life
Then I remember that dying is no easy feat. Inevitable, sure, but not always easy.
A dead-end trip turns into a meditation on what life and death mean. An interesting read, if done many times before. We follow a junkie who is setting out to die, but clearly has not yet come to terms to what this final shot should entail: They don’t understand that I’m not suicidal. I don’t want to kill myself, I don’t even want to die. I don’t want anything at all – I haven’t wanted anything for a long time. My desire’s all dried up. I’m dead in life, that’s all..
In a village far removed from the world he checks in. The setting of Last Date in El Zapotal reminded me a lot of Way Far Away, which I read last month.
Heroin is the lady he seeks the titular last date with, but there is definitely also regret about having sucked a female lover into addiction and death. Any sadness about loss friends is however uncomfortable, and leads to efforts to lose oneself: What I’ve got is called life, and nothing can cure me of that but the stuff I was shooting up five minutes ago.
Lincoln in the Bardo later in the novel comes to mind, and while the conclusion has a bit sweet resolution, indicating potential for rebirth and change at any point in one’s life, I found this an interesting enough read and I would be keen to read more from Mateo García Elizondo!
Quotes:
It’s been a long time since I’ve managed to control the part of my mind that takes logical decisions, although I know it still exists. I know I’ve still got some reason in me, I just don’t really know what governs it.
I need to consider the possibility that I’m alone, really alone, on the verge of death in a ghost town – and delirious to boot, concocting fantasies to keep myself company, to feel like I could be of interest to someone. I’d better get used to the idea that for the first time, this enterprise I embarked on so many years ago – and will never return from – is starting to scare me a little.
I’m not unfamiliar with the sensation of sinking; I’ve done it all my life. I know you never hit the bottom.
There’s no solace or companionship in the voices of the dead. All you hear is their absence
I’ve spent most of my days famished and wretched, ignored by others, my body in a state of partial decomposition. In a sense, death has been my element, my natural state, for quite a while.
Sometimes people are filled with desires they can never satisfy during their lives. Not even death can fix that. Their souls roam the world, trying to sate their hunger, but they can’t. Their bellies are big as mountains, but their mouths are tiny and narrow as pins. They’re condemned to being hungry forever.
In death, we’re really alone. Like in life, only more.
There was a time I would have thought he was ignoring me for being a disgusting junkie, trying to drive me away. Now I know that the living ignore the dead to be left in peace. That’s all. They don’t do it on purpose; it’s a habit they’ve acquired so they can carry on without endless sermons or complaints from them.
Then I remember that dying is no easy feat. Inevitable, sure, but not always easy.
A dead-end trip turns into a meditation on what life and death mean. An interesting read, if done many times before. We follow a junkie who is setting out to die, but clearly has not yet come to terms to what this final shot should entail: They don’t understand that I’m not suicidal. I don’t want to kill myself, I don’t even want to die. I don’t want anything at all – I haven’t wanted anything for a long time. My desire’s all dried up. I’m dead in life, that’s all..
In a village far removed from the world he checks in. The setting of Last Date in El Zapotal reminded me a lot of Way Far Away, which I read last month.
Heroin is the lady he seeks the titular last date with, but there is definitely also regret about having sucked a female lover into addiction and death. Any sadness about loss friends is however uncomfortable, and leads to efforts to lose oneself: What I’ve got is called life, and nothing can cure me of that but the stuff I was shooting up five minutes ago.
Lincoln in the Bardo later in the novel comes to mind, and while the conclusion has a bit sweet resolution, indicating potential for rebirth and change at any point in one’s life, I found this an interesting enough read and I would be keen to read more from Mateo García Elizondo!
Quotes:
It’s been a long time since I’ve managed to control the part of my mind that takes logical decisions, although I know it still exists. I know I’ve still got some reason in me, I just don’t really know what governs it.
I need to consider the possibility that I’m alone, really alone, on the verge of death in a ghost town – and delirious to boot, concocting fantasies to keep myself company, to feel like I could be of interest to someone. I’d better get used to the idea that for the first time, this enterprise I embarked on so many years ago – and will never return from – is starting to scare me a little.
I’m not unfamiliar with the sensation of sinking; I’ve done it all my life. I know you never hit the bottom.
There’s no solace or companionship in the voices of the dead. All you hear is their absence
I’ve spent most of my days famished and wretched, ignored by others, my body in a state of partial decomposition. In a sense, death has been my element, my natural state, for quite a while.
Sometimes people are filled with desires they can never satisfy during their lives. Not even death can fix that. Their souls roam the world, trying to sate their hunger, but they can’t. Their bellies are big as mountains, but their mouths are tiny and narrow as pins. They’re condemned to being hungry forever.
In death, we’re really alone. Like in life, only more.
There was a time I would have thought he was ignoring me for being a disgusting junkie, trying to drive me away. Now I know that the living ignore the dead to be left in peace. That’s all. They don’t do it on purpose; it’s a habit they’ve acquired so they can carry on without endless sermons or complaints from them.
January 24, 2025
Kız’la Randevu bir bağımlının sona doğru çıktığı yolculuğu anlatan bir roman. Bağımlılıkla ilgili metinler hep riskli çünkü hem ajitasyona hem de kolaya kaçmaya çok müsaitler konu gereği. Kız’la Randevu da en çok bu tuzaklara düşmemesiyle kalbimi kazandı. Hayalle gerçek, ölüm ve yaşam gibi iç içe geçiyorlar ve bu belirsiz hal adım adım sona yaklaşan karakterin ruh haliyle çok güzel örtüşüyor. Üstelik okuyucu da bu belirsizlikten nasibini alıyor. Bir karabasan gibi üstüne çöken yolculuğa -az çok ne olacağını kestirse de- ortak oluyor. Bu bir yazarlık becerisi. Hem de bir ilk roman için büyük bir şey. Herkese hitap etmeyebilir ama ben oldukça sevdim.
July 31, 2024
It's My Wife, It's My Life
Review of the Charco Press paperback edition (June 25, 2024) translated by Robin Myers from the Spanish language original Una cita con la Lady [A Date with the Lady] (November 6, 2019).
I could appreciate more the hallucinations and the encounters between the living and the dead in this novel, as the rather hapless addict wanders through the village and its outskirts. He even takes on final requests from some of the dead that he encounters. He hovers between both worlds and at some point he makes a crossover which isn't obvious to the reader at first. You could say I read it more as a metaphor for the experience of living. Heroin may be the crutch for the narrator's existence, but each of us have our own crutches, i.e. our reasons for living, don't we? And is it just me or do we not encounter the dead in our own dreams at times?
The painting "This was All Folly" by Tomas Harker, was used as the cover illustration for the original Spanish language edition "Una cita con la Lady" (2019) published by Editorial Anagrama, Barcelona. Image sourced from JacksonsArt.com.
I realize that most would not enjoy the surface subject matter here, but for me it became a 5-star, because I just couldn't stop reading it and couldn't help but be fascinated by it.
Soundtrack
The choice was obvious on this one, and it also provided for my lede header. It is Heroin by Lou Reed as recorded on The Velvet Underground debut album The Velvet Underground & Nico (1967). You can hear the track on YouTube here or on Spotify here.
Trivia and Links
The English language synopsis for Last Date in El Zapotal describes it as "an homage to Pedro Páramo" (1955), which was a novel by Mexican author Juan Rulfo (1917- 1986). You can read more about that novel and its influence at a Wikipedia article here (Note: Plot spoilers).
Review of the Charco Press paperback edition (June 25, 2024) translated by Robin Myers from the Spanish language original Una cita con la Lady [A Date with the Lady] (November 6, 2019).
I ask the girl why if they're dead, I can see them but they can't see me.
'The dead see only what they damn well please,' she says.
Which is something the living do as well. - excerpt from "Last Date in El Zapotal."
Last Date in El Zapotal may seem like a book about death, but it's really a book about living. And about (here I am, editorialising flagrantly now) how difficult it is to stop. - excerpt from the Translator's Note by Robin Myers.The Translator's Note (printed at the back of the book) was actually the first thing that I read from this recent Charco Press book and it probably had a great influence on the way I approached the novel itself. I think most people would otherwise find a book about a heroin addict who has retreated to an obscure village in order to die through the use of his final fix to be not only depressing but rather distasteful.
I could appreciate more the hallucinations and the encounters between the living and the dead in this novel, as the rather hapless addict wanders through the village and its outskirts. He even takes on final requests from some of the dead that he encounters. He hovers between both worlds and at some point he makes a crossover which isn't obvious to the reader at first. You could say I read it more as a metaphor for the experience of living. Heroin may be the crutch for the narrator's existence, but each of us have our own crutches, i.e. our reasons for living, don't we? And is it just me or do we not encounter the dead in our own dreams at times?
The painting "This was All Folly" by Tomas Harker, was used as the cover illustration for the original Spanish language edition "Una cita con la Lady" (2019) published by Editorial Anagrama, Barcelona. Image sourced from JacksonsArt.com.
I realize that most would not enjoy the surface subject matter here, but for me it became a 5-star, because I just couldn't stop reading it and couldn't help but be fascinated by it.
Soundtrack
The choice was obvious on this one, and it also provided for my lede header. It is Heroin by Lou Reed as recorded on The Velvet Underground debut album The Velvet Underground & Nico (1967). You can hear the track on YouTube here or on Spotify here.
Trivia and Links
The English language synopsis for Last Date in El Zapotal describes it as "an homage to Pedro Páramo" (1955), which was a novel by Mexican author Juan Rulfo (1917- 1986). You can read more about that novel and its influence at a Wikipedia article here (Note: Plot spoilers).
December 6, 2019
La idea que me hice de esta novela, después de leer por primera vez la sinopsis, hará cosa de dos meses, era que se trataba de una especie de novelización del De-loused in the Comatorium, el disco de The Mars Volta, dónde efectivamente, a través de una imaginación alucinógena y alucinada, se cuenta la historia de Cerpin Taxt, el yonqui chicano que intenta suicidarse en El Paso y eso da pie a ese viaje por mundos a cada cual más extraño e infernal. En cierta forma, Una cita con la Lady, si bien no sigue ese mismo patrón, si comparte el punto de partida.
En verdad se trataría de los personajes del Yonqui de William Burroughs paseándose por la Comala de Pedro Páramo. El protagonista llega al imaginario Zapotal y se encuentra con un pueblo que parece el último agujero del planeta, un lugar empobrecido, de aire fantastmal y decadente. Su propósito es consumir la heroína y el opio que le queda en la reserva y extinguirse en ése, el rincón más olvidado que ha podido hallar. Sin querer revelar mucho más, diremos que hacia el final la historia da un viraje considerable y algunas de las insinuaciones realizadas durante la narración cobran enorme relieve y pasan a primer plano narrativo.
Se trata de la historia de un hombre sumergido en el consumismo más puro, el de la droga, tanto que se autoalimenta de su propio apetito hasta crear un bucle que absorbe todo lo que puede y lo que no, lo excluye y lo aleja. Vamos sabiendo que de sus allegados algunos se hicieron yonquis como él y murireron y los que no, lo abandonaron. En medio de una desolación absoluta, fascinado por ese intenso mundo lisérgico, se planta y decide apartarse y perecer, pues ya no le queda ni intereses ni deseos por nada que exista en el mundo ni impulso vital.
Él se considera algo intermedio entre los vivos y los muertos, un ente que vaga por el mundo sin otro propósito que proporcionarse su amada sustancia. La expresiva escritura de García Elizondo recrea ese ambiente obsesivo y lóbrego, los temas se van reiterando sutilmente con ocurrentes variaciones, de forma que al final la atmósfera del libro logra atrapar hasta el ánimo del lector y contagiarle ese singular tono, tan poco simpático y vitalista.
Se trata de un libro escrito por alguien de poco más de treinta años y en su primera novela publicada. Cómo se sabe, no se trata de un cualquiera, él ha tenido el privilegio de ser nieto de los escritores Gabriel García Márquez y Salvador Elizondo, por lo cuál él ha tenido más fácil el poder iniciarse en el mundo de la ficción, ahora bien, una vez leído este Una cita con la Lady no me cabe duda que él ha sabido demostrar mérito propio y que vale para esto de narrar historias poco convencionales y atrapantes. Han sido dos días de lectura febril. Sin duda sería una gran noticia que alguien como él, un narrador dispuesto a explorar la ficción desde ángulos poco usuales, iniciara con este libro una extensa obra. Yo por lo menos así lo esperaré. Pero por favor, que no me busquen en Zapotal.
June 9, 2021
Vine por las drogas, me quedé por los fantasmas.
January 5, 2020
Una voce narrante potente descrive il viaggio di un’eroinomane verso la fine. Ambientato in un villaggio sperduto, in cui nessuno vorrebbe vivere, il racconto si snoda lungo la linea di confine tra vita e morte. Realtà e allucinazioni si alternano, finché diventa impossibile distinguere le une dalle altre e i ricordi si trasformano nel tempo perduto, in una dimensione di tempo sospeso.
Affascinante, poetico e tragico.
Affascinante, poetico e tragico.
May 7, 2020
Está muy bueno.
Cuenta la historia, narrada en primera persona de un drogadicto que llega a un pueblo (Zapotal) con el claro objetivo de morirse, desde el principio honestamente la atmosfera del lugar te recuerda a Comala, en Pedro Páramo, cuya premisa inicial es semejante: una persona que llega a un pueblito sospechosamente solitario, oscuro y misterioso.
Es una idea original sobre una base ya conocida de la relación entre el mundo de los vivos con el mundo de los muertos en el que los límites físicos no están bien definidos por lo que en ciertos momentos llegan a coincidir de tal manera que nunca sabes bien dónde estás parado.
Se nota muchísimo la influencia de su abuelo, el maestro Gabo, en la narrativa de Mateo que refleja situaciones claras de realismo mágico, destacando la amenidad con la que relata esta historia, el registro oral está muy presente lo que te mantiene siempre entretenida y expectante a lo que va sucediendo.
Cuenta la historia, narrada en primera persona de un drogadicto que llega a un pueblo (Zapotal) con el claro objetivo de morirse, desde el principio honestamente la atmosfera del lugar te recuerda a Comala, en Pedro Páramo, cuya premisa inicial es semejante: una persona que llega a un pueblito sospechosamente solitario, oscuro y misterioso.
Es una idea original sobre una base ya conocida de la relación entre el mundo de los vivos con el mundo de los muertos en el que los límites físicos no están bien definidos por lo que en ciertos momentos llegan a coincidir de tal manera que nunca sabes bien dónde estás parado.
Se nota muchísimo la influencia de su abuelo, el maestro Gabo, en la narrativa de Mateo que refleja situaciones claras de realismo mágico, destacando la amenidad con la que relata esta historia, el registro oral está muy presente lo que te mantiene siempre entretenida y expectante a lo que va sucediendo.
August 6, 2024
I really loved this! It’s about a heroin addict who takes the train go a random town with enough heroin left to end his own life, but he ends up getting mixed up with a bunch of drug dealers and strange people who rob him of his stash so he ends up just walking around in a sort of high-limbo waiting to see if he will die.
The way the narrative straddled the line between life and death was fantastic and I found it super easy and enjoyable to read the main character’s voice. The way the afterlife was explored was so clever and how the book tricks you into questioning what is real and what could just be a hallucination because of the drugs is done so well.
I don’t usually like books which are quite hallucinatory but the way this was structured and told was just fantastic and kept you hooked. It was never confusing but always engaging, funny and thought provoking. I really can’t wait to read more from this author because from this book I can tell his writing is completely brilliant.
The way the narrative straddled the line between life and death was fantastic and I found it super easy and enjoyable to read the main character’s voice. The way the afterlife was explored was so clever and how the book tricks you into questioning what is real and what could just be a hallucination because of the drugs is done so well.
I don’t usually like books which are quite hallucinatory but the way this was structured and told was just fantastic and kept you hooked. It was never confusing but always engaging, funny and thought provoking. I really can’t wait to read more from this author because from this book I can tell his writing is completely brilliant.
December 9, 2019
Esta novela pudo haber sido un artículo de Vice.
January 19, 2025
Vov! Baba tarafından dedesi Gabriel Garcia Márquez, anne tarafından dedesi Salvador Elizondo olan, 1987 doğumlu Mateo Garcia Elizondo'nun ilk romanı Kız'la Randevu edebiyat dünyasına harika bir ismin kazandırıldığının müjdesi. Gabo'nun torunu olduğu için omzunda çok ağır bir yük olduğunu tahmin ettiğim, röportajlarından anladığım kadarıyla bunun kendisine sık sık sorulmasından sıkıldığını anladığım genç yazar, eroin bağımlısı bir adamın ölüm yolculuğunu anlatıyor. Marquez'e de ilham olmuş Pedro Paramo'nun izlerini görmenin mümkün olduğu eser, uyuşturucu yolculuğu sebebiyle biraz beat esintisi de verdi bana.
Sürprizi bol, konusu itibariyle okuması biraz zorlayıcı olabilen Kız'la Randevu'yu çok sevdim. Mariana Enriquez'i sevdiği yazarlar arasında sayan Elizondo ne yazsa heyecanla takip edeceğim bundan sonra.
Sürprizi bol, konusu itibariyle okuması biraz zorlayıcı olabilen Kız'la Randevu'yu çok sevdim. Mariana Enriquez'i sevdiği yazarlar arasında sayan Elizondo ne yazsa heyecanla takip edeceğim bundan sonra.
September 24, 2020
¿Qué pasaría si uno de los personajes jonkis de Burroughs hubiera sido el protagonista de Pedro Páramo? Con esta pregunta podríamos dar una idea bastante buena sobre Una cita con la Lady, primera novela de Mateo García Elizondo que automáticamente lo ubica como un talento para no perder de vista.
La novela arranca de forma muy potente, revisitando el pasado del protagonista y todas las formas en que su vida se fue poco a poco desintegrando a causa de su adicción a la heroína. Algo importante de recalcar es que la obra nunca toma un tono moralista o juzgador con respecto a las adicciones, sólo las muestra en su basto espectro de brutales complejidades, y he ahí el gran acierto de esta obra, con escenas que pueden hacer revolvernos en nuestros asientos pero que muestran la dolorosa humanidad de un grupo de chicos perdidos en su deseo de escapar del mundo.
Sin embargo, a medida que la novela avanzaba la trama pasó a ser cada vez más fantástica y a tratar menos sobre el pasado autodestructivo-marginal del protagonista, lo que desde mi punto de vista debilitó mucho el nivel que venía llevando. No digo que haya sido una mala idea mezclar estas dos temáticas a simple vista tan distintas: marginalidad descarnada y realismo mágico; pero en lo personal me resultó muy distractor y creo que la novela habría sido mucho más potente si se hubiera centrado sólo en la temática de adicciones y deterioro humano. Para el final de la novela sentía que estaba leyendo un libro muy distinto al que había empezado, más cercano a La Divina Comedia que a Less Than Zero.
Aún así, tomando en cuenta que ésta es apenas la primera novela del autor, queda claro que tiene talento y que a medida que lo siga puliendo seguramente producirá obras que desde ya espero con ansias.
La novela arranca de forma muy potente, revisitando el pasado del protagonista y todas las formas en que su vida se fue poco a poco desintegrando a causa de su adicción a la heroína. Algo importante de recalcar es que la obra nunca toma un tono moralista o juzgador con respecto a las adicciones, sólo las muestra en su basto espectro de brutales complejidades, y he ahí el gran acierto de esta obra, con escenas que pueden hacer revolvernos en nuestros asientos pero que muestran la dolorosa humanidad de un grupo de chicos perdidos en su deseo de escapar del mundo.
Sin embargo, a medida que la novela avanzaba la trama pasó a ser cada vez más fantástica y a tratar menos sobre el pasado autodestructivo-marginal del protagonista, lo que desde mi punto de vista debilitó mucho el nivel que venía llevando. No digo que haya sido una mala idea mezclar estas dos temáticas a simple vista tan distintas: marginalidad descarnada y realismo mágico; pero en lo personal me resultó muy distractor y creo que la novela habría sido mucho más potente si se hubiera centrado sólo en la temática de adicciones y deterioro humano. Para el final de la novela sentía que estaba leyendo un libro muy distinto al que había empezado, más cercano a La Divina Comedia que a Less Than Zero.
Aún así, tomando en cuenta que ésta es apenas la primera novela del autor, queda claro que tiene talento y que a medida que lo siga puliendo seguramente producirá obras que desde ya espero con ansias.
July 14, 2024
charco press do release bangers icl
▪️the concept of this was so interesting to me and it was fleshed out really well for something i feel could have really been hit or miss
▪️i loved the stream of consciousness as it delved into questions of life and love and what truly makes us fulfilled and connected to the world and reality around us
▪️this kind of lost some momentum within the last 40 pages or so but it's definitely worth sticking with as it does pose some interesting ideas worth contemplating
depressing short read = a happy reader
▪️the concept of this was so interesting to me and it was fleshed out really well for something i feel could have really been hit or miss
▪️i loved the stream of consciousness as it delved into questions of life and love and what truly makes us fulfilled and connected to the world and reality around us
▪️this kind of lost some momentum within the last 40 pages or so but it's definitely worth sticking with as it does pose some interesting ideas worth contemplating
depressing short read = a happy reader
April 19, 2025
*Kız: Argoda eroin, sarıkız, beygir..
Dehşet güzel bir kitap. Dehşet ve güzel bir kitap.
Çevirisi ise öyle mükemmel ki, çevirmenden (Roza Hakmen) başka kitaplar okumaya karar verdim.
Bir bağımlı, yanına ölmesine yetecek kadar kız* alır ve randevusu için Meksika kırsalında bir köye, Zapotal'e gider. Daha başka nereye gidebilirdi ki zaten? Belki Comala'ya..
Bu bir ilk kitap.
Mateo García Elizondo, Gabriel García Márquez ve Salvador Elizondo'nun torunu. Bu (bü)yüklerinden daha ilk kitabında kurtulması çarpıcı bir başarı. En azından benim için, o artık "Kız'la Randevu"nun yazarı.
Ölümden öte köy varsa ve dedeleri oradaysa, alnından öperek gururla karşılayacaklardır.
___
not 1: Karanlık şeyler okumaktan hoşlanmayanların uzak durmasında fayda var. (Ölüm, uyuşturucu kullanımı vb.)
not 2: Bu kitaptan önce/kitapla birlikte/kitaptan sonra okunmasında fayda olduğunu düşündüğüm kitaplar: Pedro Páramo, Tibet'in Ölüler Kitabı, Nasıl Yaşarsak Öyle Ölürüz : Değişimi ve Belirsizliği Şefkatle Karşılamak
p.s. Üçü de bir türlü bitiremediğin ve randevu bekleyen kitaplar.. Millete tavsiye edene kadar otur oku.
Dehşet güzel bir kitap. Dehşet ve güzel bir kitap.
Çevirisi ise öyle mükemmel ki, çevirmenden (Roza Hakmen) başka kitaplar okumaya karar verdim.
Bir bağımlı, yanına ölmesine yetecek kadar kız* alır ve randevusu için Meksika kırsalında bir köye, Zapotal'e gider. Daha başka nereye gidebilirdi ki zaten? Belki Comala'ya..
Bu bir ilk kitap.
Mateo García Elizondo, Gabriel García Márquez ve Salvador Elizondo'nun torunu. Bu (bü)yüklerinden daha ilk kitabında kurtulması çarpıcı bir başarı. En azından benim için, o artık "Kız'la Randevu"nun yazarı.
Ölümden öte köy varsa ve dedeleri oradaysa, alnından öperek gururla karşılayacaklardır.
___
not 1: Karanlık şeyler okumaktan hoşlanmayanların uzak durmasında fayda var. (Ölüm, uyuşturucu kullanımı vb.)
not 2: Bu kitaptan önce/kitapla birlikte/kitaptan sonra okunmasında fayda olduğunu düşündüğüm kitaplar: Pedro Páramo, Tibet'in Ölüler Kitabı, Nasıl Yaşarsak Öyle Ölürüz : Değişimi ve Belirsizliği Şefkatle Karşılamak
p.s. Üçü de bir türlü bitiremediğin ve randevu bekleyen kitaplar.. Millete tavsiye edene kadar otur oku.
August 30, 2024
Briefly, I loved this book and I feel a numerical rating doesn't give that justice. This is such a dark, harrowing, bleak look at life, existence, addiction, and death, and all of that resonated with me deeply. I think the book for me hinged more on its final act, and while it was obvious this story only had one place to go in terms of the character's arc, I wish it had gone in a slightly different direction.
I think for me when a book focuses on existential dread or crises, the meaning of life, and even the afterlife, I prefer when it ends on a darker tone, and here I didn't feel that. If you've read A Short Stay in Hell, for me that's exactly the kind of ending I want in a story like this, and that didn't quite happen here. The connecting tissue between the first 100 or so pages and the final 50 could have been strung together better, but these are nitpicks - this is a fantastic novel and I'm super happy I read it. SO many great lines and passages. Giving a 4 here but closer to a 4.25 or 4.5 for my tastes, if you want a look into a sad, dying addict's quest to end his own life and his chronicling of it, this is a great place to see it.
I think for me when a book focuses on existential dread or crises, the meaning of life, and even the afterlife, I prefer when it ends on a darker tone, and here I didn't feel that. If you've read A Short Stay in Hell, for me that's exactly the kind of ending I want in a story like this, and that didn't quite happen here. The connecting tissue between the first 100 or so pages and the final 50 could have been strung together better, but these are nitpicks - this is a fantastic novel and I'm super happy I read it. SO many great lines and passages. Giving a 4 here but closer to a 4.25 or 4.5 for my tastes, if you want a look into a sad, dying addict's quest to end his own life and his chronicling of it, this is a great place to see it.
June 5, 2025
Yaşamla ölüm arasındaki ince çizgide bir adamın son durak arayışı...
İspanyol edebiyatının en sarsıcı romanlarından biri olan Kız'la Randevu, hayattan vazgeçmiş bir adamın, geçmişin izlerini taşıyarak bir dağ köyüne sığınmasını konu alıyor. O bir bağımlı. Yalnız, yorgun, tükenmiş... Fakat ölüm, sandığı kadar kolay; yaşam ise sandığından daha güçlü.
Yazar, varoluşun en karanlık köşelerine sinematik bir anlatımla ışık tutarken, hikâyesini ajitasyondan uzak, derinlikli ve sarsıcı bir gerçeklikle kuruyor. Okuru yormadan, ama derinden sarsarak... Kimi zaman bir sessizlik kadar yoğun, kimi zaman bir çığlık kadar keskin olan bu roman; hayat, bağımlılık, geçmiş ve kaçış kavramlarını yeniden düşünmeye davet ediyor.
Türkçeye kusursuz bir şekilde çevrilen bu eser, modern edebiyatta unutulmaz bir yer edinmeye aday.
İspanyol edebiyatının en sarsıcı romanlarından biri olan Kız'la Randevu, hayattan vazgeçmiş bir adamın, geçmişin izlerini taşıyarak bir dağ köyüne sığınmasını konu alıyor. O bir bağımlı. Yalnız, yorgun, tükenmiş... Fakat ölüm, sandığı kadar kolay; yaşam ise sandığından daha güçlü.
Yazar, varoluşun en karanlık köşelerine sinematik bir anlatımla ışık tutarken, hikâyesini ajitasyondan uzak, derinlikli ve sarsıcı bir gerçeklikle kuruyor. Okuru yormadan, ama derinden sarsarak... Kimi zaman bir sessizlik kadar yoğun, kimi zaman bir çığlık kadar keskin olan bu roman; hayat, bağımlılık, geçmiş ve kaçış kavramlarını yeniden düşünmeye davet ediyor.
Türkçeye kusursuz bir şekilde çevrilen bu eser, modern edebiyatta unutulmaz bir yer edinmeye aday.
August 31, 2025
The main character’s “Lady” is heroin, mine would be Baja blast freeze 💜
July 3, 2024
A mediation on life and death and the slippery boundary between the two. Our narrator is a junkie who has come to the dead end town of El Zapotal for one last date with his lady—his lady being heroin. One last date and then he’s off to the other side. He’s so deep in his addiction that the pleasures of the earthly realm hold no power over him, they are not enough to entice him to stick around any longer. He’s made it to the threshold of death many times before, but this time he is ready to go all the way.
Writing his experience in his notebook, our narrator hopes to make sense of his last few days and the journey he’ll take from the land of the living to whatever lays beyond. As he wanders through this town in an opium induced stupor, he encounters beings that may or may not be ghosts, some asking for favors, others hoping to guide his passage to the other side.
As the book progresses, the narrator’s (and reader’s) sense of reality becomes distorted, is he still hanging on or has he officially joined the group of specters that haunt this wretched town?
The writing in this book is impressive, though it should come as no surprise as the author is the grandson of both Gabriela García Márquez and Salvador Elizondo. Despite this, I didn’t find myself wanting to pick it up. It’s repetitive and depressing, but so is addiction so I’m sure that’s the point.
I appreciate this book, but I’m glad to be done with it.
Writing his experience in his notebook, our narrator hopes to make sense of his last few days and the journey he’ll take from the land of the living to whatever lays beyond. As he wanders through this town in an opium induced stupor, he encounters beings that may or may not be ghosts, some asking for favors, others hoping to guide his passage to the other side.
As the book progresses, the narrator’s (and reader’s) sense of reality becomes distorted, is he still hanging on or has he officially joined the group of specters that haunt this wretched town?
The writing in this book is impressive, though it should come as no surprise as the author is the grandson of both Gabriela García Márquez and Salvador Elizondo. Despite this, I didn’t find myself wanting to pick it up. It’s repetitive and depressing, but so is addiction so I’m sure that’s the point.
I appreciate this book, but I’m glad to be done with it.
December 4, 2024
⇝
2.5 stars
July 9, 2024
Another oustanding read from Charco Press, this time of a heroin addict who goes to a bleak remote village to die.
In El Zapotal, you can see the dead. It's here that the man hires a room to reach oblivion.
Despite death being everywhere, and the grotesqueness and depressing existence of he and the villagers, this is very much about life and what we squander through trivialities and unfounded fear.
Definitely recommend.
In El Zapotal, you can see the dead. It's here that the man hires a room to reach oblivion.
Despite death being everywhere, and the grotesqueness and depressing existence of he and the villagers, this is very much about life and what we squander through trivialities and unfounded fear.
Definitely recommend.
August 9, 2020
Tiene habilidad para nombrar lo abstracto, que no es menor, y hay ecos de Rulfo, pero me pareció impostada, tremendista. Como si Reygadas hubiera escrito una novela.
February 3, 2024
a disturbing, tender, stream of consciousness. life and death! what more needs to be said
August 7, 2024
A heroin addict seems to have run out of hope, and in accepting his circumstance journeys to an almost deserted Mexican village to die.
He rents a room in this seedy backwater and prepares one last fix, but is haunted by memories of his past that won’t let go.
He becomes stuck in limbo among the bums of El Zapotal and the ghosts of his past so that neither he, nor we as readers, can tell them apart.
It’s a ghost story of a sort, a horror story, and a fable considering damnation and deliverance. But its brilliance is in its language, translation, and style. I’ve read it compared to Rulfo’s Pedro Paramo, which I can see, and I’d add to that the prose of Bukowski, which several times it put me in mind if.
It’s another excellent find from Charco Press who continue to discover tremendous world literature in translation.
Here’s how it starts..
He rents a room in this seedy backwater and prepares one last fix, but is haunted by memories of his past that won’t let go.
He becomes stuck in limbo among the bums of El Zapotal and the ghosts of his past so that neither he, nor we as readers, can tell them apart.
It’s a ghost story of a sort, a horror story, and a fable considering damnation and deliverance. But its brilliance is in its language, translation, and style. I’ve read it compared to Rulfo’s Pedro Paramo, which I can see, and I’d add to that the prose of Bukowski, which several times it put me in mind if.
It’s another excellent find from Charco Press who continue to discover tremendous world literature in translation.
Here’s how it starts..
I came to El Zapotal to die once and for all. I emptied my pockets as soon as I set foot in the town, tossing the keys to the house I left behind in the city, my credit cards, anything with my name or photograph. All I've got left are three thousand pesos, twenty grams of opium, and a quarter-ounce of heroin, which had better be enough to kill me. If not, I'll be too broke to even buy a pack of cigarettes, much less pay for a roof over my head or score some more lady, and then I'll freeze and starve to death out there instead of making slow, sweet love to my skinny bride, just as I've planned.
That should get me through for sure. But I've missed the mark before and I always wake up again. I must have some unfinished business to take care of.
February 2, 2025
aslında birkaç gün önce başladım ama yol boyu bitireceğimden emin olmadığım için buraya eklemedim, bu bağımlılık meselesi dinlemekten hoşlanmadığım bir şey, her an bırakabilirdim, bir şeylere bağımlı olmayı anlasam da hayatın dışında kalmak için bağımlı olmayı anlamıyorum, kendilerini anlatmaya çalıştıklarında da samimi gelmiyor...
bağımlısın geriye kalan her şeyi kaybediyorsun, varlığının hiçbir yansıması yok, seni sevenlere bela oluyor, düzelmek için hiçbir şey yapmıyorsun, tek derdin "kız"la buluşmak, çalışmadığın için o "kız"ın parasını bile başkaları vermeli, "kız"a ulaştığında da ne olduğunun farkında değilsin, ölmek istiyorsun ama bir kez daha çekebilmek için yaşıyorsun ve başına gelenleri yazsan millet okumaktan sıkılıyor...
bu kitap nispeten samimi bir anlatıydı sonlara doğru daha dinlenir oldu...
bağımlısın geriye kalan her şeyi kaybediyorsun, varlığının hiçbir yansıması yok, seni sevenlere bela oluyor, düzelmek için hiçbir şey yapmıyorsun, tek derdin "kız"la buluşmak, çalışmadığın için o "kız"ın parasını bile başkaları vermeli, "kız"a ulaştığında da ne olduğunun farkında değilsin, ölmek istiyorsun ama bir kez daha çekebilmek için yaşıyorsun ve başına gelenleri yazsan millet okumaktan sıkılıyor...
bu kitap nispeten samimi bir anlatıydı sonlara doğru daha dinlenir oldu...
February 11, 2025
‘Hayat bir soğutucuya benzer, zamanın nesneler üzerinde bir etkisi vardır; tırmanıştayken, kopmuşken değerli neyin varsa süt gibi ekşiyip bozulur. Dönüşte tedavi görmüş olsan bile çok önemli bir şeyinin, kolun ya da gözün gibi bir şeyin eksik olduğu hissini yaşarsın, hayata koltuk değnekleriyle devam etmeye mahkummuşsun gibi gelir.’
.
Kendi bedenine veda etmeye hazırlanan kahramanımız nihayet varış noktasına ulaşır ve şöyle der: ‘El Zapotel’e nihayet ölmeye geldim.’ Bundan sonrası anılar, gerçekler, hayaller, yaşayanlar ve ölüler arasındaki yoğun sis bulutu olur. Ne o karar verebilir yaşadıklarının gerçekten mi yaşanıyor olduğuna, ne de biz. Belirsizlikle beraber mekanın ıssızlığına da bulaşırız. Görünür olan tek şey ise sondur.
.
Edebiyatçı bir aileden gelen yazar Mateo Garcia Elizondo, bir bağımlıyı içinde bulunduğu tüm o duygu değişimleriyle anlatabilmeyi başarmış Kız’la Randevu’da. Oldukça karanlık olmasına karşın tek oturuşta bitiveren bir akıcılıkta üstelik.
.
Roza Hakmen çevirisi, Nazlım Dumlu kapak tasarımıyla ~
.
Kendi bedenine veda etmeye hazırlanan kahramanımız nihayet varış noktasına ulaşır ve şöyle der: ‘El Zapotel’e nihayet ölmeye geldim.’ Bundan sonrası anılar, gerçekler, hayaller, yaşayanlar ve ölüler arasındaki yoğun sis bulutu olur. Ne o karar verebilir yaşadıklarının gerçekten mi yaşanıyor olduğuna, ne de biz. Belirsizlikle beraber mekanın ıssızlığına da bulaşırız. Görünür olan tek şey ise sondur.
.
Edebiyatçı bir aileden gelen yazar Mateo Garcia Elizondo, bir bağımlıyı içinde bulunduğu tüm o duygu değişimleriyle anlatabilmeyi başarmış Kız’la Randevu’da. Oldukça karanlık olmasına karşın tek oturuşta bitiveren bir akıcılıkta üstelik.
.
Roza Hakmen çevirisi, Nazlım Dumlu kapak tasarımıyla ~
April 10, 2025
I was debating between four versus five stars so get ready for the breakdown: I felt the last few chapters were a bit dragged out and over explained the moral a bit, like show don’t tell. Still, it was so dare I say enthralling. I am an absolute fool for any book on existentialism. This truly ended up being one of my fav reads and therefore, I had to stick with my ranking system and give her a fiver. It was beautifully written but I just know that it would be so much better in the original Spanish, which I will be reading asap now. It was hard to read at times I admit, the dude isn’t great… but his perspective was portrayed with such craft and understanding. They say each book read is like a life lived, and this one represented that perfectly to me.
[I am not happy with the titles translation though… I think it should’ve stayed the same >:( ]
[I am not happy with the titles translation though… I think it should’ve stayed the same >:( ]
August 13, 2025
Liked the stream of consciousness and how the main straddles between life and death but a bit one note.
January 13, 2021
5 días y 184 páginas después. El primer libro del autor que leo del autor. No sabía nada del autor, hasta que lo vi posteado en varias menciones.
Es una narración buena, pero bastante repetitiva, y aunque tiene los capitulos definidos, hay algo que te hace perderte dentro de la misma historia. ¿Aleatoriedad? Bastante, pero que puedes esperar de un adicto a la heroína. ¿Qué puedes esperar de un libro que narra la historia de una persona que solo se quiere destruir y que cree ver muertos?
Todo iba excelente hasta que se hace esa mezcla de las visiones, cosa que no estuvo mal, pero que es terriblemente experimental. A algunos les puede gustar, o funcionar, pero en lo personal siento que fue demasiado ambicioso al querer narrar cosas tan filosoficas (y alocadas) en tan poco.
No es el hecho de que se hayan visto ya decenas de relatos de drogos, ni que sea una escabrosidad parecida a la de otros realismos mexicanos, sino el hecho de que la novela es un experimento que no acaba de completarse.
Sin embargo, me parece una excelente primer novela, habrá que seguir viendo lo que el autor escribe. Y tenerlo cerca. Hubo unas frases excelentes.
No habrá reseña.
Es una narración buena, pero bastante repetitiva, y aunque tiene los capitulos definidos, hay algo que te hace perderte dentro de la misma historia. ¿Aleatoriedad? Bastante, pero que puedes esperar de un adicto a la heroína. ¿Qué puedes esperar de un libro que narra la historia de una persona que solo se quiere destruir y que cree ver muertos?
Todo iba excelente hasta que se hace esa mezcla de las visiones, cosa que no estuvo mal, pero que es terriblemente experimental. A algunos les puede gustar, o funcionar, pero en lo personal siento que fue demasiado ambicioso al querer narrar cosas tan filosoficas (y alocadas) en tan poco.
No es el hecho de que se hayan visto ya decenas de relatos de drogos, ni que sea una escabrosidad parecida a la de otros realismos mexicanos, sino el hecho de que la novela es un experimento que no acaba de completarse.
Sin embargo, me parece una excelente primer novela, habrá que seguir viendo lo que el autor escribe. Y tenerlo cerca. Hubo unas frases excelentes.
No habrá reseña.
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