Longlisted for the 2025 Oxford-Weidenfeld Translation Prize
Luckily I am not the same person I was before, that would mean I hadn't learned anything. And I did learn, I think I learned a lot. I have reinvented and renamed myself. Inés Experey is not a bad name, it reminds me of who I was and at the same time it banishes my old self (get out, Eresto Pereyra!) And her as well (get out, Charo).
Though Yours. Yours is another story.
'Time of the Flies' (2024), Francis Riddle's translation of Claudia Piñeiro's 'El tiempo de las moscas' (2022) is a direct sequel to Tuya (2005), literally 'Yours' although translated by Miranda France as 'All Yours' (2012). That isn't made clear in the novel's English language blurb, perhaps because the earlier book is from a different publisher, Bitter Lemon Press, who had published Piñeiro's work in English until Charco Press took over from Elena Knows - Bitter Lemon Press promoting the works more as crime fiction, whereas Charco "intends to relaunch Piñeiro in English as a writer of ethical weight and commitment".
And unfortunately reading this novel stand alone is a rather unsatisfactory experience. While Time of the Flies is a new and different story, there are a lot of references back to the previous novel, including things the reader knows but the characters don't.
Time of the Flies opens with Inés being discharged from prison after a 15 year sentence for the crimes she committed in 'All Yours'. The story then picks up a year later - Inés together with Marta, a close friend from her time inside, have set up a business together, FFF, standing for Fumigations Females Fly. Actually it is more two businesses under one brand - as Inés has retrained as a pest-controller, while Marta works as a private investigator, both specialising in female clients.
Although the one animal Inés refuses to eliminate are flies, which are instead her passion, one which started when she discovered a floater in her eye, which she mistook for a trapped fly, leading her to read books on flies from the prison library.
The novel's plot revolves around a wealthly client, Mrs Bonar, who hires Inés to fumigate her house, but then after a number of visits reveals her true intention. She wants Inés, who is licensed to obtain various products, to obtain for her a pesticide fatal to humans, so that Mrs Bonar can murder her husband's lover, just as Inés (whose backstory she reveals she knows) did 16 years earlier. And Inés needs the generous money Bonar offers to pay for an operation Marta urgently needs.
Marta decides she will use her PI skills to investigate (particularly as there is no obvious Mr Bonar) and a complication arises when she sees Inés estranged daughter Laura, who cut off all contact after her mother was jailed, visiting Mrs Bonar's house. And what the reader of All Yours knows, but not Inés and, unfortunately, not the reader of this book who hasn't read the earlier one, is that the 16 year old Lali was pregnant at the time 16 years ago when Inés committed her crime.
This generally is the type of crime fiction where the reader - at least the reader of both books - knows more than some of the characters, and Mrs Bonar's true intention is clearer to even those new to the novels than it is to Inés and Marta, so the story can drag a little as we wait for them to catch up.
What does redeem the novel in a literary sense are the sections on flies, particularly when it links to two authors in particular, Marguerite Duras and Augusto Monterroso:
And there it is, Glantz's article entitled 'The Fly and the Dinosaur' dedicated to the Guatemalan writer Augusto Monterroso. And also a photocopy of 'The Flies' from Monterroso's Perpetual Movement, along with his short story The Fly that Dreamed it Was an Eagle. Laura looks at the sentences she underlined in Glantz's text: 'Yes, I agree with Tito: there are only three possible themes: love, death, and flies.' (...) 'I'm convinced that literature could not exist if flies did not exist' (...) 'Yes, the fly is the most perfect archaeological vestige, the "last transmitter of our clumsy western culture".' She still likes what she underlined when she read it, in her last year of university, if she's not mistaken, and this surprises her because usually when she comes across notes she made in books she wonders why she did so. A person has the right to change as a reader, to change what they'd underline, she thinks. She continues reading, and even though she sometimes finds new phrases that she likes, she'd mark the same ones again. And she takes comfort in the fact that, at least when it comes to Margo Glantz, Monterroso, and flies, she hasn't changed; it's somehow reassuring on a night like this one. She puts the photocopies back into the book, closes it, and takes it to bed with her.
And the chapters which interrupt the story with a Greek chorus of commentary, one which directly quotes various feminist writers, such as Duras, Rebecca Solnit, Toni Morrison, Lina Meruane, Vivian Gornick, Natalia Ginsburg, Chimanadna Ngozi Adichie, Angela Davies and Paul B. Preciado. That Preciado is transgender but a feminist writer is important in relation to the novel's plot, with the Greek chorus debating but ultimately rejecting TERF views.
I suspect had I known to have read All Yours previously this would have been a 4 star read - and I'd strongly recommend readers start there (as do the top Spanish-language reviews on this site). But on my experience a mid 3 star.