What do you think?
Rate this book


224 pages, Paperback
First published May 18, 2021
‘Every time someone digs into their genes they always find black roots.’
‘Fruit ripened on trees of iridescent green. Explosive orange persimmons. Lumpy loquats. Fuzzy peaches split open to bare the raw flesh.’
‘Hypochondria story. In ancient times it referred to an area beneath or hipo the rib cartilage, or condria, and was a digestive disorder of the liver spleen nervous gallbladder. Centuries later the same hypochondria was used to describe a melancholy disorder marked by indigestion and stomach ailments that were hard to pinpoint.’
‘How much does a breast weigh? A kilo? Half? More? Was one breast always heavier and more cantankerous than the other? And how much did its tumour weigh? What was it made of? The same stuff, of course. Fat, skin, some glands with first and last names. Areolas. Nipples. Lactiferous ducts. Cells identical to themselves multiplying their effort to destroy her.’
'And the doctor distracted her by showing them glands hemorrhoids cloves that were the seat of the nervous system, sympathetic, somatic, and parasympathetic. And antipathetic, Ella thought, but that adjective wasn’t for the doctor, because this specialist was all warmth and goodwill, while El was no longer the person he was when they met. She thought about hatred, the explosion, about fear, about the enigma of the skeletal remains and the lives that came before them. That’s what Ella was thinking about and maybe El was, too, that maybe with time everything would be restored, but maybe not, because there in the night the stupid stars still hung and sprinkled calcium over the universe.'
‘Hadn’t the Mother talked about how cunning rodents were? His brittle voice, his cavalier glance. His sister reminded him that every species had its suicides.’
‘In other words, says Ella, the cells that kill you are the same as the ones that cure you. In other words, says the Mother, correcting the daughter, if those cells don’t defend against foreign bodies, or if they defend you even from your own cells, it means the system has gone bad. 404 error. System gone mad. Please restart.’
‘Space curved around matter. The vibrating universe, the hissing galaxies. The insolent distance of stars. They slept guarded by a milky moon and pastoral constellations. They woke up with the sun in their eyes.’
‘Pain isn’t a priority, she says breathlessly, pain is life, it’s consciousness and possible recovery.’
to be nothing but synapse was to be animal.much as she did in her impressively unsettling earlier novel, seeing red , chilean author lina meruane offers a brutal, disquieting, often times unbearable look at illness and disease. at its skeletal frame, nervous system (sistema nervioso) is the story of astrophysicist ella, her inability to complete her doctoral thesis, and the maladies she invokes to further forestall academic completion — but, really, the tale is an extraordinarily visceral tour of remembered afflictions, infections, syndromes, cancers, and other assorted sicknesses. meruane's prose is intense, blunt, merciless, and utterly exceptional. nervous system traffics in dark matter (physical, existential, and astronomical) and ella's suffering veers dangerously close to the emotional abyss just beyond the event horizon. meruane's new novel is stellar, with an inescapable pull all its own.
some people believed they were adrift on a great space rock spinning in circles, left to its fate; those were people who aspired only not to leave orbit, not to collide with another, similar rock, or the sun.