Camilo José Cela Trulock was a Spaniard writer from Galicia. Prolific author (as a novelist, journalist, essayist, literary magazine editor, lecturer ...), he was a member of the Royal Spanish Academy for 45 years and won, among others, the Prince of Asturias Prize for Literature in 1987, the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1989 ("for a rich and intensive prose, which with restrained compassion forms a challenging vision of man's vulnerability.") and the Cervantes Prize in 1995.
In 1996 King Juan Carlos I granted him, for his literary merits, the title Marquis of Iria Flavia.
It's definitely unfair to judge Camilo Jose Cela's short stories on the strength of my Spanish reading skills. I was no doubt out of my depth here and missed a lot of the irony woven into his language. At times I got a sense of it, understood that there was a joke, a commentary, some sense of mockery and dark humour, but often I couldn't explain it properly. It wasn't the narrative meaning - I managed to follow most of the stories in this collection - but I was limited in my ability to delve deeper. I was also hampered in this by the length of the stories. The collection houses 25+ stories, mostly unconnected, and I struggled to get into the flow. By the time I was beginning to understand what was going on, the story had come to an end. In fact, the part of this book that I latched onto best was the prologue, in which the author outlines some of his ideas and intentions, as well as sketching some elements of his own life. It is a witty, eloquent introduction to a short story collection and allows you a way in to the author's way of thinking and his sense of humour. It is followed by some more obscure notes by the author but together it helps to set the author's work in context, in time and place and theme.
Thematically, "El bonito crimen del carabinero" is diverse, although connected by a similar tone and a focus on social events and human interraction. As befits their length, they express singular moments, one off converstations, isolated events. The titular story is an exception; it is longer and portrays the skeleton of a more extensive family narrative. There was traces of Garcia Marques in this bizarre, morbid tale, echoes of the Dickensian in the odd aunts and dark motives. It was the stories injected with a little bit of strangeness that interested me the most. Numbers like "Claudius, profesor de idiomas" and "Literary Club" have that stuffy academic feel, no doubt laced with very real authorial experience but not necessarily of interest for the casual reader today. Sometimes, the stories deal with the completely mundane and Cela showcases his ability to create atmosphere and character out of very little - "Unas gafas de color" fits that mould and tells a lot between the lines. "El Capitan Jeronimo Exposito" is one of those that injects a little strangeness into the mix, a bizarre flash of piratal recruitment. Other flashes work well as descriptions rather than stories - "Elgeia de los autobuses..." and "Baile en la plaza" contain little narrative but plenty of imagery.
The last few stories begin to join the dots, characters reoccuring and mapping out more of a history and a narrative. Strangely, I didn't latch on to these characters - perhaps the style of the collection fits the snapshot images better, despite Cela's ability to create intriguing characters with very little effort and time. There is certainly more to this collection than I was able to extract and, like his prose, I would reapproach Cela in translation to really understand it well. As it was, it was an interesting (at times frustrating) Spanish challenge that was just beyond my abilities.
El bonito crimen del carabinero muestra a un Cela provocador y juguetón, que experimenta con el lenguaje y convierte lo cotidiano en algo grotesco y exagerado. Cela cuando era Cela.