Holy pretension, Batman!
I have to go against the grain and say I didn’t care for this one. I read a lot of weird literary fiction, and based on the description, The Tyranny of Flies sounded like it would be a perfect match for me. This is, in fact, some very weird literary fiction—and for a lot of people, I think it’ll work. It very much does what it says on the tin and is a representation of dictatorship and rebellion playing out both in and outside of a family’s home. (I’m updating this to add that I was extremely impressed by the translation—it’s good enough that I think Kevin Gerry Dunn qualifies for having a linguistic superpower. Translating a book, never mind one with such an individual style and a focus on wordplay in its original language, is a monumental task. Though I didn’t like this book at all, I got the sense that the author’s style and intentions were well-preserved. Kudos.)
Unfortunately, for me, anything valuable that this book had to say was completely buried under its stylistic choices, as well as the fact that nothing but a great deal of repetition happens until roughly 60%. Of course, certain things like the toilet humor and the ‘fecal prefix’ are intentional, but I did wonder about the differences between the translation and the original text, as the version I read ended up feeling very strangely structured, repetitive, and at times it sort of drowned in its own prose. There were times when certain trains of thought and perspective shifts became difficult to follow, so I ended up checking out the Spanish reviews, and unfortunately, it sounds like the same was true in the original text.
This probably wouldn’t have been such a big deal if the whole thing hadn't also come off as incredibly pretentious—despite the themes being as minimally explored as the bottom of the ocean, this book thinks that it’s a lot smarter and funnier than it actually is, and there’s nowhere that better demonstrates this than the batshit insane foreword.
The original editor discusses the book in an almost masturbatory fashion, lauding the author as some great creative in the tone most people would use to discuss an author who’s been dead for at least fifty years already. It’s legitimately some of the most aggravating and pseudo-intellectual stuff I’ve ever seen, it goes on for approximately twenty million pages, and I would go so far as to say it’s the most offputting introduction to a book I’ve ever read. I genuinely tried; I even had my boyfriend & his polisci minor read it with me, but neither of us could even begin to parse a solid 50% of the introduction. It honestly reads as a lengthy preemptive excuse for why the book is allowed to be bad.
My other issue was that this is clearly supposed to be a very character-centric novel, and we spend a lot of time in the same enclosed spaces with the same people going over the same things, but the characters never truly felt fleshed out, only defined by a few necessary characteristics for the purpose of telling the story. Had there been more plot to balance this out, or even the slightest amount of additional characterization, it could have worked, but instead it made for a strangely flat cast in what seemed to be intended as a character study/political allegory.
Fundamentally, Elaine Vilar Madruga is a strong writer, and there were some standout lines throughout. She’s very good with abstract imagery and scene-setting, visceral descriptions, etc, and I enjoyed reading her writing, I just didn’t enjoy what the words were saying. Overall, I feel very conflicted even a few days out from finishing, and though I was impressed by the themes presented in The Tyranny of Flies and appreciated what the author was going for, I can’t recommend it, and I really can't bring myself to offer more than one star. Cool idea, horrid execution.
A sincere thank you to the publisher and Netgalley for providing an ARC in exchange for my honest review!