La habitación alemana

by Carla Maliandi

¿Podemos afirmar que La habitación alemana, primera novela de Carla Maliandi, inventa un género nuevo? Esa sería sin dudas una exageración. Pero sí podemos decir que el texto gira en torno a lo que bien podríamos llamar ¿novela de no aprendizaje¿: una protagonista ¿mujer, joven¿ viaja a Alemania atrapada por conflictos sentimentales y no dejan de sucederle toda clase de peripecias y accidentes -algunos trágicos, otros cómicos-. Nunca logra comprender del todo su situación. En lugar de avanzar y aprender, sigue siempre a tientas, en la perplejidad, en la vacilación. Escrita con un tono vertiginoso, esa vacilación se vuelve suspenso: estructurada en capítulos breves, los leemos queriendo saber cómo continúa, qué pasará, cómo se resolverá. Terminamos de leer cada capítulo y queremos más. Siempre más. Y Maliandi no se priva de llevarnos de la mano hasta el final de una novela que, pronto, se convierte en inolvidable.

Genres: Fiction, Literary Fiction, Contemporary, Latin American, Novels, Spanish Literature, 21st Century

160 pages, Paperback

First published March 1, 2017

About the author

Carla Maliandi was born in Venezuela in 1976 and is the daughter of Argentinian philosophers Ricardo Maliandi and Graciela Fernández who were forced to escape Argentina’s military regime. She is an award-winning playwright, theatre director, university lecturer and writer. She has written and directed five theatre plays, which were all staged in Buenos Aires as well as in different international theatre festivals. She has also co-written several other plays. She is part of the writers’ collective Rioplatensas as part of which she directs a literary journal and a TV programme. Her plays Espejo en el desierto (Mirror in the desert) and Regen (Rain) appeared in an anthology published by the National Theatre Institute of Argentina, and her short story Indio (Indian) was included in a short story collection entitled Zona de cuentos (Short Story Zone). The German Room is her first novel and was chosen by several critics as one of the best books to come out of Argentina in 2017. It will be published in France (Métailié) and Germany (Bernberg Verlag). She lives in Buenos Aires.

From https://charcopress.com/authors

Reviews

[Juan Naranjo]

Aunque, en apariencia, LA HABITACIÓN ALEMANA es una historia sencilla y de emociones contenidas, la escritora argentina Carla Maliandi consigue crear una atmósfera tan opresiva como en el mejor de los thrillers. Porque el horror, la tragedia, la angustia… no necesitan de eventos demasiado extraordinarios para salirnos al paso. En la misma cotidianidad, la más mundana y ordinaria, hay elementos de sobra como para que la tensión nos empuje hacia el precipicio.

Una chica argentina huye de su vida y vuelve al pueblecito alemán en el que pasó parte de su infancia. Sin dinero, sin un plan y sin billete de vuelta, entiende esa escapada como una huida momentánea. Pero las cosas empiezan muy pronto a complicarse. Las nuevas personas que allí conoce la meten en una espiral que, por momentos, consigue que olvide el caos que ha dejado en casa… aunque quizás se está introduciendo en uno aún peor. Porque allí, sola y sin recursos, carece de estrategias y de posibilidad para enfrentarse (o entender) lo que le está pasando.

De este libro me ha encantado la sensación de no saber nunca lo que sucedería en la siguiente página. La autora tiene el don de la sorpresa verosímil: todo es inesperado, pero todo encaja. El otro rasgo por el que creo que destaca es por lo bien que trenza lo mágico (¿lo imaginariamente mágico?) con lo real. Me encanta cuando en una novela de corte realista, lo insólito hace su aparición de forma progresiva y convence, a la vez, a personaje y lector de que hay más capas de las que vemos con nuestros ojos.

En definitiva, una lectura originalísima, sorprendente y muy recomendable. Que vivan las autoras argentinas, que no paran de darme alegrías.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DC4Jmh...

[Gumble's Yard - Golden Reviewer · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Maybe the time will come when I want nothing more than to return to Buenos Aires, or maybe it will never happen. I try to imagine the feeling my parents must’ve had, the forced decision to stay so far from home. But I don’t have anything keeping me from going back, from picking my life right where I left off. Though the life I had before is impossible now. I stop on the bridge”

Charco Press is an exciting new, small UK publisher which “focuses on finding outstanding contemporary Latin American literature and bringing it to new readers in the English-speaking world”. In 2017/early 2018 it published its first set of 5 novels. All of them were by Argentinian authors: “Die, My Love” – which I was, as a judge, delighted to shortlist for the 2017/18 Republic of Consciousness Prize for small presses and which then went on to be longlisted for the 2018 Man Booker International Prize; the deeply allegorical “President’s Room”; the delightfully playful “Fireflies”; and the flamboyant “Slum Virgin”; the short story collection “Southerly”.

Its 2018 set of five novels by contrast features authors from five different countries. These include the cynical-realism “Fish Soup” (from Colombia), and three auto-fictional books: a meditation on a relationship with a military, political father “The Distance Between Us” (from Peru); an examination of grief and family relationships “The Older Brother” (from Uruguay) and an exploration of family relationships in exile from dictatorship “Resistance” (from Brazil).

This the last of the five books is a return to Charco’s Argentinian roots.

The book is set in the German university town of Heidelberg – the birthplace of the first party narrator whose academic Argentinian parents took refuge there in the 1970s from the Argentinian military junta. As an aside the author herself was the daughter of two philosophers who took refuge in Venezuela (where she was born).

At the start of the book she has just landed in Germany “with my life in a shambles, without having told anyone in [her home] Buenos Aires what I was doing”. Effectively she is retracing her parents’ steps but in her case fleeing not from a dictatorship but instead seeking refuge from her own life and the seemingly irreversible breakdown of her relationship with her boyfriend (culminating in a big fight after which she slept with someone she met casually).

And effectively having seen her plans for her adult life crumble – not just her relationship with her boyfriend but also her desire for a child (the two having tried and failed for two years to have children – something to which she traces the start of the deterioration of their relationship) – the place where she looks to take refuge is her own childhood and in what she describes as a “tiny make-believe” town – she even stays on the University campus despite not being a registered student.

At the University she is befriended by a compatriot – Miguel Javier a Tucumano (from the North West) who has just fulfilled a lifetime dream by winning two scholarships to Europe – and by a Japanese student Shanice who left her Japanese university after a number of suicides. Quickly they work out that the narrator is pregnant – and then things take a turn for the slightly sinister and surreal.

Shanice herself commits suicide – and her over-intense Mother stays after the funeral, seemingly reluctant to return to Tokyo and seemingly wanting to experience life as she believes Shanice might have lived it in future – so that she too ends up in a state of exile, of refuge from reality and in her case taking refuge in her daughter’s life (rather than her parent’s life).

And the narrator befriends from distance Miguel Javier’s sister – who, to his disgust – says she will consult an odd-clairvoyant to ascertain the father of the child. Miguel Javier considers the psychic a dangerous influence and suffers his own dilemma, suddenly realizing that his own embrace of voluntary exile (in his case a hard-earned exile into his own ambition) renders him unable to protect his family from danger.

Her stay at the University is facilitated by a chance reunion with a close childhood friend – one of her father’s students Mario – now himself a lecturer – and who has not returned to Argentina since the 1970s, treating exile as a permanent state. He introduces her to Joseph – a Turkish photographer (and it seems Mario’s lover) – whose debut exhibition is on the clash of cultures experienced by Turks living in Germany.

The slightly mystical ending of the book, a dream-like encounter the drifting narrator has with Shanice’s mother and with some mysterious mini-bison-like animals reminded me, in a good way, of Murakami (and for example his “Wild Sheep Chase”).

The translation is by Frances Riddle – who also translated the very different “Slum Virgin”. Just as with that book, and all of Charco’s titles, although I cannot judge the fidelity to the original (due to my own lack of Spanish) the effect in English is very natural.

Overall this is a fascinating examination of exile in its widest sense and a worthy addition to Charco’s very impressive list of publications.

[julieta · Rating 2 out of 5]

No logré conectar con este libro. Me pareció bien escrito y todo lo demás, pero de alguna manera todo me pareció predecible. No eres tú, soy yo...

[Tony]

Our unnamed female narrator flees Argentina in the midst of an existential crisis (is there any other kind?) and returns to Heidelberg, Germany where she spent a somewhat idyllic youth. The crisis follows her, is added to. In short order she finds out she is pregnant. She has the father narrowed down to two suspects.

She meets an ensemble cast in Germany, and they are entertaining enough. Things get even more interesting when another Argentine asks her to contact his sister back in Buenos Aries, which leads to the advice of a spooky psychic. Stay away from the crazy Japanese lady whose daughter killed herself. Or stay away from the psychic.

Ominous reads well, and did here. Very well, in fact. I hardly minded that this was yet another female protagonist who just didn't know what to do with herself.

Sometimes a very good writer, as here, can write a very good story, as here, and still write herself into a corner. There could be no epilogue here. The ending would have to be arty and vague. And that's eye of the beholder stuff. Which is to say I loved reading this book, but felt disappointed at the end.

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 4 out of 5]

Todo está roto, vaya donde vaya. Y ahora estoy a miles de kilómetros de mi país, sin saber hablar bien, sin saber qué hacer.

No matter where I go I’m still broken. And now I’m thousands of miles from home, in a place where I barely speak the language and I have no idea what to do.   

The German Room is the latest novel from the wonderful Charco Press. They are best known for the excellent Die, My Love which was longlisted for the Man Booker International and which we shortlisted for the Republic of Consciousness Prize, but I have read 9 of their 10 books (including this), and all our strong, my favourite being Fireflies. Their mission statement:

Charco Press focuses on finding outstanding contemporary Latin American literature and bringing it to new readers in the English-speaking world. We aim to act as a cultural and linguistic bridge for you to be able to access a brand new world of fiction that has, until now, been missing from your reading list.

Translation quality is also, rightfully, key to their approach and this, translated by Frances Riddle from Carla Maliandi's 2017 debut novel La habitación alemana is no exception:

We also consider our translators to be a critical part of the equation. They are the conduits bringing our authors' voices to you, and it is their interpretation, their attention to the nuances, that makes the difference. We select contemporary translators, to give our authors a modern voice.

The protagonist and narrator spent her first 5 years as a child in the German city of Heidelberg, her parents in exile from the then Argentine regime. (There is some loose overlap with the author who was born in Venezuala, her parents again exiles from Argentina, and then lives in Heidelberg from age 2 to 4 and later, briefly, aged 12.)

Now in her 30s and having split up with her long-term partner, she flees Buenos Aires to the German city, where she initially takes a room in a hostel intended for the exclusive use of University students.

This isn't a coming of age novel, rather a trying to make life stand still novel:

I don’t know, maybe all my life I’ve idealised my childhood here, maybe I remembered this city as a place where time passed in a different way.  Here we hoped that everything would get better so that we could go back, and in the meantime, we were in limbo, far away, happy.

There she encounters a rich cast of international characters including her landlady, a talkative fellow countryman in his mid 20s, a former student of her father's from her childhood, now a professor of literature, a physic whose dire warnings are relayed to her from Argentina, and a Japanese student, who later kills herself, and her eccentric mother.

I know that what she was projecting wasn’t happiness, it was anxiety, it was a horrible sadness disguised with bright colours and screeching music.

Heidelberg itself is another character in the novel - and indeed was the author's original choice as a title for the book. A city that has somehow escaped the bombardments and other onslaughts of history.

And the novel ends on a wonderfully magic-realist type note.

Recommended

Interviews with the author:
https://www.eternacadencia.com.ar/blo...
 
https://www.pagina12.com.ar/27069-al-...
 

[Karen·]

This is a novel that is haunted by the past, peopled with ghosts and shot through with dreams. The nameless narrator, a young woman in her thirties, has left her home in Argentina, where she had a job, a partner and a dog. She leaves without planning or considering, and reasons for her going are never adequately explained. She washes up in Heidelberg, one of the few German cities that wasn’t bombed, the city of her earliest childhood. She finds that she barely still speaks the language, and certainly doesn't understand the rules and customs of the student residence she has found refuge in. In search of breakfast on her first morning she observes, in the café, an elderly man and his dog, and immediately begins to speculate on his wartime experience. She doesn't share the apparent ease and joy of the students around her, describing herself as a fake student, a solitary tourist, a refugee.

That word refugee is used, perhaps, in jest. But it is a condition that haunts this whole narrative. Our narrator's exile is self-imposed, and yet the trajectory is one that almost forces thoughts of those refugees that took the opposite path, from Germany to Argentina.

Then there is a far more direct engagement with refugees fleeing Argentina following the 1976 military coup. For that is the reason for the narrator's parents being in Heidelberg. It is the background of her childhood friend Mario, also a refugee from Argentina, whose boyfriend Elvio disappeared - was disappeared - in the state terrorism that brutally eliminated leftist 'subversive' ideas.

The trauma of the past does not take centre stage here, but casts shadows, shifts the axis off centre, gives everything a feel of being decidedly off kilter. The ominous can take quite concrete forms: a malignant tumour, Frau Wittman's prejudice against Turks. But it can also be truly, terrifyingly spooky in the warnings of a psychic or the ubiquitous Mrs Takahashi.

There's a strong narrative drive that always kept me interested, a delicious mix of the humorous and the poignant, and enough levels of symbolism to engage the longer thought processes. A cracking read.

[Alice · Rating 4 out of 5]

Novela entretenida, ágil, con ritmo vertiginoso. Buena historia y buenos personajes, aunque ambos podrían haber estado más desarrollados y eso hubiera enriquecido el texto. La peculiaridad de los personajes la hace amena e interesante y genera ganas de saber qué va a pasar. Creo que el problema o por lo menos lo que no me gustó es que abre muchas historias y no cierra ninguna. El final es demasiado abierto aunque la imagen que describe es muy bella. Un 3.5 es, creo, la valoración correcta. Para leer de un tirón. Espero con ganas otro libro de la autora!

[Violely · Rating 4 out of 5]

Desde que agarré este libro me pasaron un montón de cosas particulares. Yo leo por impulso, de repente se me ocurre que tal libro es el siguiente y lo busco en mi biblioteca y lo comienzo a leer, eso me pasó con este, a tal punto que no sabía bien de qué se trataba ni nada de su autor, sólo sabía que estaba muy bien recomendado por personas con las que comparto lecturas. Lo comencé creyendo que era un autor el que escribía, pasaba las páginas y pensaba que bien que transmite la personalidad de la protagonista, unas páginas más: pará!, no puede ser un hombre y vi la portada y no, no lo era. Tiene imágenes en un código difícil de transmitir desde la mirada de un hombre, desde algunas sutiles hasta otras más profundas como un sueño onírico que aparece en el inicio de la novela. En el recorrido marqué un montón de páginas y entendí por qué inconscientemente había elegido ese libro. Seguramente a muchos lectores nos pasa igual, yo siento que muchas veces los libros vienen a hacerme pensar, reflexionar, en los temas que necesito hacerlo o me permite la continuidad del análisis en algo que ya venía viendo. Es como charlar con un amigo de eso que te viene dando vueltas y encontrar allí respuestas, idas y vueltas, cosas con las que coincidís más, otras menos pero que siempre vienen bien. A veces me abren la cabeza, otras me enojan pero no por eso dejan de gustarme.
En cuanto a lo específico de la escritura de la novela, puedo decir que es muy particular, podemos no estar de acuerdo con las decisiones de la protagonista pero compartís su recorrido y la querés seguir acompañando. Quizás se pueda decir, tampoco estoy tan segura, de que se equivoca una y otra vez, que corre cambiando de manzana sin estar segura nunca ni aprender en el recorrido, pero igualmente es una travesía que disfrutás, que te alimenta. Luego de la reflexión de un par de días, lo leí en un par de sentadas, me hace acordar de alguna manera a "También esto pasará" de Milena Busquets, con la diferencia de que esta historia si está bien escrita y la otra no, jeje. En síntesis me gustó mucho y llegó en el momento indicado. Por último, también decir que me marcó el camino de un próximo libro que si bien lo tenía en vista, todavía no tan cercano: Enero de Sara Gallardo.

[Professor Weasel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Oh my god, this book is amazing! Do you ever find yourself in one of those reading funks where you just pick up book after book and sigh, because it all seems so wearisome? Well, this book was EXACTLY what I needed. Thank God for Charco Press!

The plot of this book is very simple (and dare I say it, Magic Mountain-esque). An Argentinean woman in her 30's travels to Heidelberg in Germany, the city where she was born and lived for five years as a child when her parents fled Argentina due to the dictatorship. Her time in Heidelberg involves meeting a lot of strange and funny characters and this is what creates a lot of energy and momentum in the book. This was a reading experience in which I literally had NO IDEA what was going to happen next, which made it very exciting and fun. There's also one moment in the first 25 pages that is genuinely very SHOCKING. Basically I liked how this was a book where a lot of things HAPPENED (the psychic, the Japanese woman having a nervous breakdown... I coud go on and on). It also helps that the chapters are all relatively short and move at a brisk pace.

I really related to the narrator, a woman in her 30's feeling a bit lost (lol) and like her life is in shambles. I really connected to her feelings of just wanting to RUN AWAY and TEAR APART your stable, perfect life (don't worry, I'm not going to do this myself, I'm just sayin'!) vs. figuring out what it means to be an adult and be responsible for your actions and their consequences. I really loved the melancholy, regretful tone that came through at times. I've been listening to a lot of Joni Mitchell lately and she has soooo many songs about wanting to just be free, to not be tied down, and this book dealt w a lot of those themes as well. It's a relatively simple plot but one that I think a lot of people can relate to - what kind of person do I want to be? What kind of life do I want to live? How do you avoid having a shitty life, one in which you feel bloated and tired all the time and everything is an impossible struggle?And how do you figure that out if you don't really know who/what you are? (An Argentinean woman born in Germany, etc.)

I also really loved the theme of communication and translation in the book - there are so many languages and identities present here (German, Argentinean, Japanese, Turkish, Hungarian, Albanian...).

I absolutely loved this.

Something suddenly became clear to me: I didn't want to buy a set of coffee mugs ever again, or straighten pictures on the wall, or decide where to put the rug that looks rustic but isn't. I don't want to go to the plant shop and ask which ones like sun and which are houseplants. I don't want to choose the fabric for the curtains, or the colour of the bedspread, or the size of the bookcase. I'd rather live like a refugee forever, sleeping in other people's beds, having coffee out of strange mugs, mugs that I didn't choose and that I don't care about because i don't even remember the name of the street of the house I woke up in." (pg. 21)

"It's annoying and funny at the same time. I look around the room, they're experiencing what they'll remember in the future as the best time of their lives, their student years, their foreign adventure far away from their parents. In ten years they'll probably be exhausted, they'll have kids, good jobs, and they'll look back fondly on those days in Heidelberg, days they'll never get back. But I don't belong to this group. Even if I crossed the whole world looking for a place to feel at home, I wouldn't belong anywhere." (pg. 23)

"A happy exile, an exile you don't want to return from, isn't exile." (pg. 27)

"Here the time passes in a strange way and nothing is the same. How much longer will I be able to disappear from the internet too, from the lives of others? How much longer will the e-mails continue to pile up, their demands for explanations? A forgotten person is like a dead person, and no one wants a dead person to show up in the world of the living." (pg. 43)

(I think this section encapsulates one of the main themes of the book) "[She says] 'We're all masses of chaotic little particles, little leaves blown around by the wind. You want to go east but the wind blows you west. You want to go north but the wind pushes you south. It's not up to us.' The Tucumano says he thinks the opposite is true, that everything, absolutely everything, depends on us, that we're victims of our own decisions. His entire life he's seen the direct consequences of his own actions." (pg. 83)

[Rachel Louise Atkin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not gonna lie I am convinced that everything Frances Riddle touches turns to gold. This is such a great, messy but warming book about a young woman from Argentina who moves to Germany and finds out she’s pregnant. Whilst she’s in Germany she meets a bunch of people from all over the world including a neighbour from Japan and her slightly deranged mother who becomes her closest friend, and a old Argentine family friend she uncovers some secrets about. The book is about being completely adrift and having no idea where you’re going next but not feeling the pressure to figure it out. The pregnancy is almost a metaphor for the beginning of the rest of her life, but the baby doesn’t ever seem to move or grow or change with-in her but exists in a stasis as she enjoys her period of limbo in her German rented room. I really adored the writing and the main protagonist and felt really attached to the story. The ending was also really lovely and hopeful. I would definitely recommend reading this as it’s all author I’ve not tried before but 100% going to be looking forward to more of her work because I really enjoyed this.

[Barbara · Rating 4 out of 5]

The unnamed protagonist is a 30-something woman who flees Buenos Aires for Heidelberg after breaking up with her long-time boyfriend. She lived in Heidelberg as a child when her now-dead father taught at the university, and hopes to recover the feelings of security in the city she experienced as a young girl.

She moves into a student residence hall with vague plans to enroll in post-graduate studies, and immediately is sought out by an intense fellow Argentine, Miguel Javier. She also refers to him in her head as Tucumano as he is from the northern city of Tucumán. He is in Heidelberg studying economics, hoping to understand the causes of poverty. It seems ironic to me that people from the Global South go to the United States and Europe to study the causes of their own conditions of poverty and underdevelopment. But having worked in a university in Washington DC for over 25 years, I have seen this over and over. Some get their degrees and return to their home countries to work for social progress and social justice. Others remain in the United States, and often their careers involve little or no work in their countries of origin. It is not easy to return, and for some, it is next to impossible.

The self imposed exile of this woman leads her to form new relationships - with a Japanese student, with a person who was a family friend from their years in Heidelberg, and with a Turkish-German man, her age. There is something that draws people to this woman although she remains unaware of her appeal to others. She is a tremendous observer, but often, she is oblivious to her surroundings. She longs for home, and at the same time is conflicted about returning.

There is a melancholy tone to this story. It is the kind of melancholy that tango music evokes. It is the kind of melancholy I associate with the Southern Cone of Latin America - in the reflections of the Uruguayan writer Eduardo Galeano who I was fortunate enough to see in Washington a couple of years before his death. It is the melancholy I felt living in Porto Alegre, Brazil on Sundays in the winter into spring months, when streets were empty. I have found this same emotion in novels of Argentine writers including Things We Lost in the Fire by Mariana Enríquez and Shantytown by César Aira. It is a mood I savor just as many love fado music of Portugal (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WimC9...) and Mourna from Cape Verde (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERYY8...).

This book is another outstanding publication of Charco Press located in Edinburgh, Scotland.
Charco Press focuses on finding outstanding contemporary Latin American literature and bringing it to new readers in the English-speaking world. We aim to act as a cultural and linguistic bridge for you to be able to access a brand new world of fiction that has, until now, been missing from your reading list.
They select the translators to bring these book to English-speaking readers. Thanks to Charco Press for gifting me this book when my original order of Feebleminded was lost in the mail. https://charcopress.com/

[Kyle C · Rating 4 out of 5]

A strange, unsettling novel. The narrator is an Argentinian woman who, following a break-up, has abruptly returned to Heidelberg, Germany, a place where she and her family had lived briefly as refugees after the military coup in 1976. She takes a room in student housing and spends her time aimlessly wandering the city and nostalgically recalling childhood memories. She befriends an Argentinian man (whom she often just refers to as Tucumano—the man from Tucuman) who tells her she is pregnant and, afterwards, she goes to a Karaoke party with a Japanese student (who shortly afterwards commits suicide and leaves the narrator all her belongings). Suddenly, the narrator is involved in a ménage à trois and is being stalked by the mother of the Japanese student, a woman who, like the narrator, sleeplessly meanders along the streets. It is a haunting novel about displaced souls, roaming in search of memories and familiar places, unable to name their desires or find purpose. What is clear is that neither the narrator nor the Japanese mother can return back to their far-flung homes—Buenos Aires and Tokyo. Like desperate Demeter scouring the world for her stolen Persephone, they are searching for an impossible vestige of what they have lost.

This is a beautiful novel in which the idea of "world literature" is both a salve and a crux—the Argentinian narrator flees to a German city to surround herself with international students, a provincial Argentinian and a Japanese woman. She tries to take a course in comparative literature; she reconnects with a childhood friend who is now a literature professor. There is a desperate naive hope that some other place in the world will offer an alternative home, an escape and a sanctuary from the anguishes and conflicts of one's native home, but it's all a hopeless mirage.

[Justine Kaufmann · Rating 4 out of 5]

“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨: ‘𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘺’, ‘𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦’. 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘈𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢’𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥.”


The German Room by Carla Maliandi follows a woman in her 30’s as she leaves her home of Argentina for Heidelberg, the city she spent the first five years of her childhood during her parents’ exile in the 1970’s from the Argentinian military junta. Unlike her parents, our protagonist has fled to Heidelberg to take refuge from her life back home which has fallen to shambles. Fittingly, The German Room is described as a ‘non-coming of age tale’. She is exposed to various situations and characters, which includes discovering early on during her stay that she’s pregnant; however, in this place where time moves differently, she merely fumbles along, unsure what to do with her life. Yet despite the fact that this story is a ‘parenthesis’ that the narrator has opened in her life, the reader is kept on their toes up until the very end.

For me personally, I think this short novel will continue hold a special place in my heart. As someone who has ran off to and around Germany by myself several times over the last decade, especially at various crossroads during my life, I found that Maliandi perfectly capture the beauty, melancholy, and stillness of time when one is wandering aimlessly around old towns along the river, contemplating just what exactly to do next with one’s life.

[Tommi · Rating 4 out of 5]

“I’m not here to study anything. I’m here to sleep, to get well, and to find a bench in Markplatz where I can sit and think calmly and eat a pretzel.” Feigning student status, the narrator of Carla Maliandi’s novel arrives from Argentina to Heidelberg, her German childhood home, without a plan. Her backstory unfolds slowly over the course of the novel, yet The German Room is more dominantly about what happens next. The reader is never quite sure where the story will go, as, like the quote demonstrates, there is not much of a plot to begin with, but it is here exactly where Maliandi excels: keeping readers at their toes as a series of events and characters enter, exit, and re-enter the narrator’s living-in-the-moment-sort-of existence in Heidelberg – with unexpected ferocity. Seemingly light in themes and effortless in prose, Maliandi, whose background as a successful playwright in Argentina is visible here, is brilliant at conveying interesting characters, most notably in the figure of a Japanese mother, who comes to haunt the narrator time and again. The way the narrator runs into old acquaintances borders on implausible, but it is likely an intended narrative strategy, and, ultimately, a feature that makes The German Room a distinctive work, an episodic yet absorbing read from an author never before translated into English. Charco Press continues to deliver, and Frances Riddle’s translation is as smooth as you can get – what else is there to say?

[Pau Jorba · Rating 3 out of 5]

Creo que estoy en un pequeño bache lector y quizá no he prestado toda la atención que el libro se merece, pero sinceramente no me ha convencido mucho. Tiene un punto sobrenatural que ojalá lo hubiese explotado más.

[Bert · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Something suddenly became clear to me: I didn't want to buy a set of coffee mugs ever again, or straighten pictures on the wall, or decide where to put the rug that looks rustic but isn't. I don't want to go to the plant shop and ask which ones like sun and which are houseplants. I don't want to choose the fabric for the curtains, or the colour of the bedspread, or the size of the bookcase. I'd rather live like a refugee forever, sleeping in other people's beds, having coffee out of strange mugs, mugs that I didn't choose and that I don't care about because i don't even remember the name of the street of the house I woke up in." (p. 21)

[Yecronopia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excelente novela

[Mike E. Mancini · Rating 5 out of 5]

"This is not the right way to do things, but it's the way I've done them and here I am."

The nameless narrator of The German Room will return to this idea over and over again, albeit without ever repeating the quoted sentence above. The strength in showing the reader, rather than telling us, is where this slim novel shines brightest. It has a trickle down effect in that many of the characters' dialogue with one another is strong: they say what they mean, and mean what they say, but their actions betray them, opening up different paths and creating some wonderful conflict every few pages.

Carla Maliandi is the author of The German Room, a debut novel with a confident, assured tone. An award winning playwright, it is unsurprising to find many of the scenes take place in small rooms, with two or three characters talking, many places like restaurants, or student halls, are returned to over again.

The stylistic flourishes in the prose are invisible, or non-existent, really. Ms. Maliandi instead places us squarely in the mind of our nameless narrator, and never for a sentence, diverges from it. This in itself is a kind of style. The first-person narrator in a novel is nothing to brag or gush over; it's the author's ability to never break the spell once cast that deserves attention and praise. We are never told, or have more information, than our narrator does or should have.

There is a fairly large, well-rounded and extraordinarily compelling cast that surrounds our narrator. A novel that ends without an answer to questions; or creates more mystery as it nears the finish, instead of resolutions; these can lead to an unsatisfying finale. Not so with The German Room. Characters this well realized are a literary pleasure bar none: an ensemble cast of flawed, broken, weak and strong, talented and not-so-much; by book's end the reader is left with that strange yet acute desire to follow them all, to whatever it is that they will do next.

I hope my intention to leave out any and all plot elements does not go without notice. I dont give a shit about plot--we've heard it all before. The nature of the delivery is one of a sensitive ear, an observant eye--tuned into a variety of wavelengths that represent the human condition at its very best and, unavoidably, it’s worst.

[Miglė · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a refreshing and pleasurable read this "un-coming of age" novel was!

Told in an original, but unpretentious voice, it's a story of an Argentinian woman who (without telling anyone) goes to Germany and sort of floats there, being bumped around by strange interpersonal currents, obstinately refusing to make any decisions. Even though the narrator feels disconnected from her surroundings (including her own pregnancy), the novel has this strange tension of things happening to her, and people wanting something from her, being caring or dangerous, or both – like there's some external current transporting her somewhere, even if some of it is her own actions.

I don't want to oversell this book as it might not be for everyone - there's no clear resolution and the author doesn't try to make you feel empathetic towards the characters - but I picked it up with no prior expectations and ended up enjoying it immensely.

[Santiago González · Rating 4 out of 5]

Encierro al aire libre

Qué decir de una novela que te hace lamentar que haya terminado el viaje en subte para no poder seguir leyéndola?

Tiene momentos divertidos, inquietantes, cuatro o cinco personajes que dan para novelas decimonónicas. La deriva de la mediana edad y una bomba de tiempo argumental. Lo bueno es que, como dice la contratapa, esta es una novela del nuevo género de "no-aprendizaje". Un arco dramático que se tensa pero no termina de dispararse.

Es muy fácil de recomendar a todos los argentinos que andan cruzando los 30-40 años. La van a disfrutar (conozco a otras dos personas que la leyeron y a ambas les gustó mucho). Y se lee muy rápido, un signo de los tiempos que agradece

(acabo de caer que le puse 4 estreilitas, igual que a la de Cercas. Esta novela no está a la altura de nada de lo que haya escrito Cercas, pero vale por su disfrute).

[Irene Ramírez · Rating 3 out of 5]

3,5⭐️
Es curioso porque ha sido una novela fácil y rápida de leer pero al terminarla he sentido como si llevase mucho tiempo familiarizada con los personajes.
Me ha encantado haber entrado tan de lleno en la historia que, aunque a simple vista parezca no ser nada del otro mundo, es increíble cómo en ningún momento me esperaba lo que iba a ocurrir después.
Aunque es una lectura agradable, también me ha dado angustia el sentir de los personajes, el cómo se relacionan entre ellos, y creo que esa mezcla de emociones me ha dejado con esta sensación inusual.
Tengo que decir que lo que menos me ha convencido es ese final abierto. O quizás es que tenía ganas de seguir leyendo esta historia

[Tundra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Maybe this is the new midlife crisis novel. The one that happens in your 30’s instead of your 40’s. This is a quirky and compelling story about how events can take control of your life rather than the other way around. I really liked the characters who were unique individuals with many human failings. A thought provoking story.

[Francisco · Rating 4 out of 5]

Es su primer novela. Gran debut. Lamenté las interrupciones de la vida cotidiana porque no quería parar de leerla.

[Sofia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Este libro me agarra a punto de mudarme a Alemania con más dudas que certezas así que es exactamente lo que necesitaba. Es lindo, simple y fácil de leer.

[Sol Ciucci · Rating 3 out of 5]

3,5 ⭐️

[Leandro Lavanchy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Que lindo es elegir un libro totalmente al azar y que nos guste. ¿O no fue el azar? ¿Quizás la portada despertó algo en mi? No lo se. Lo que si me propuse es no leer la contratapa, porque entiendo que algunas veces nos “spoilean” las cosas. Quise adentrarme de cero en esta novela.
Y que buena decisión. Me lleve una grata sorpresa con esta novela. Difícil tarea catalogarla; pero eso ya seria entrar en detalles que no me interesan demasiado. Vamos a lo concreto: la novela.
Creo que el objetivo de la autora fue llevarnos por un camino recto, sin ninguna vuelta. Primera persona, acción, acción, acción. Simple pero muy efectivo. Pero también creo que quiso jugar con la intriga de los lectores. Por ejemplo, si no me equivoco, a lo largo de la novela no sabemos el nombre de la protagonista. Ningún tipo de introducción. Solo sabemos que su infancia tuvo lugar en Alemania. Y que ahora de mas grande, vuelve a ese pequeño pueblo alemán. ¿A que? Otra de las incógnitas (que a lo largo de la historia, incluso ella se plantea).
Los personajes también se describen solos mediante las acciones a mi entender. Hay breves descripciones pero no son tan ricas como las acciones que ejecutan. Estas nos dan una pauta de como son ellos. Después todo depende de nosotros y nuestra imaginación. Y es por eso que se vuelve tan atrapante: uno quiere saber si la protagonista hace lo que nosotros creemos que es el paso a seguir o no.
Ademas tiene un valor agregado: capítulos cortos. Lo cual le da un dinamismo que hace mucho no experimentaba y me pareció perfecto. Esta novela me recordó el poder de las acciones y cuanto hablan sobre uno.
Pase por muchos estados. Sobre todo tensión intriga. Ganas de más todo el tiempo.
Me hubiese gustado que dure mas. O quizás esa fue la intención de la autora. Novela corta, rápida y con estos elementos. Lo demás, se los dejo a su imaginación.

[Patricia · Rating 3 out of 5]

le pondría 2 1/2 pero no se puede... es una historia que no dice mucho, escrita con ritmo vertiginoso, que nos dan ganas de seguir leyendo. Hay personajes interesantes que quedan a medio camino...inclusive, o más que ninguno la protagonista. Difícil de entender el punto de su viaje, es tambien dificil de entender el punto de la novela. ¿La memoria? podría serlo si estuviera más trabajada, una lástima, había un tema interesante ahí.
No está lograda, lamentablemente. Como todas las novelas nuevas, noto con inquietud, que están escritas sin editar, corregir, etc...hay repeticiones, obviedades, dialogos no muy coloquiales, cosas que se dijeron de una forma, se vuelven a decir de otra, etc...en fin, parece una moda...
el final es totalmente inverosímil y que no tiene mucho que ver con el resto de la novela.
Entretenida...hasta ahí.

[Selin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Was so happy to be whisked away into the world of this book for a little while, and I didn’t want it to end.. the 5 stars is purely on emotional connection and enjoyment as i think this book is a bit messy (there are so many themes and they arent all tackled effectively or coherently) and the ending is so abrupt- so temper your expectations BUT the power of the characters here and the authors ability to weave this ridiculous plot is definitely something else. I will definitely read everything Carla Maliandi has written if I can get my hands on it in english!

The figure of Miguel Javier is so real i definitely have met him before.. are we sure he doesnt have a turkish twin somewhere out in the world?

[Agos Juana · Rating 5 out of 5]

Maravilloso. Escrito con un lenguaje simple que permite dibujar cada imagen y personaje mencionados. La historia transcurre en un pequeño pueblito de Alemania, Heidelberg y en escenarios bien definidos: una pensión estudiantil, una colina, el departamento del amigo de un amigo, una universidad, una casita con patio. La protagonista, de la que no se menciona nombre, va narrando lo que le pasa a ella y a otros personajes y sus sensaciones y pensamientos sin complicaciones y con una franqueza absoluta.
Una historia sencilla llena de otras pequeñas historias que permiten ver la vida a diez mil km de distancia, como si estuviera pasando delante de los propios ojos.

[Danna · Rating 1 out of 5]

An Argentinian 30-something attending grad school in Germany falls pregnant and has to deal with a weird mother of her dead Japanese dorm mate. Doesn't quite fit together, right? That's how I felt up to the 60% mark, where I've gladly abandoned this ebook.
I can't help but wonder what's the point of this book. It doesn't offer a beautiful writing style, there are no engaging plotlines and the protagonist lives as if she's a ghost rather than an actual human being. She displays no emotions, despite being a lonely older woman in the company of strangers and having some hardships thrown her way, she is indifferent and it's really annoying. The whole atmosphere is wei