Gastón Fernández’s hermetic collection of 100 psalm-like poems marks the English-language debut of this legendary Peruvian writer of the late twentieth century.
Fernández lived most of his adult life in Belgium, working as an art historian. While publishing his scholarship mostly in French, he produced literary works semi-secretly in his native Spanish. Shared only with close friends, very few of these works were published in his lifetime. Apparent Breviary is his lone collection of poems, notable as much for their silences as what they say, their use of negative space as a counterweight to speech, and the hallucinatory effect of their sequence.
I would put this book at a 3.5 if I could. I appreciate the motive, obsession, and translation work behind the book more than I enjoyed the content. This type of poetry just isn’t my thing, especially now that I’m not in grad school. That being said, if someone (like the translator) writes compellingly about how a work has lived rent-free in their brains for ten years, I’m generally willing to give it a whirl.
These are sparse poems that are always implying and almost never declaring. They’re almost more like outlines, and the interesting use of space almost makes them even look like sketches. There are some beautiful lines, some notable images, but they didn’t capture me like they did the translator. It feels like the closest I have come to the mindset that Bible translators deal with: a word may only be used once in the collection, but it has multiple meanings in English and so the translator has to figure out some sort of reasonable solution. Respect the hustle.
The edition is very well put together: strong spine, sturdy pages, eye-catching font—beautiful work.
8th book read from this year’s AWP! Almost halfway through my purchases!