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El último día de Terranova
«Estoy de pie frente al mar y tengo miedo a girarme y que todo desaparezca para siempre. Que cuando me vuelva, solo encuentre un inmenso vacío partido por la Línea del Horizonte, una línea fósil, sin recuerdos que se muevan en ella como ahora lo hace Garúa en bicicleta con su lote de libros en las alforjas.»
La vida de Vicenzo Fontana está a punto de entrar en Liquidación Final cuando su librería se ve asediada por la codicia implacable de los especuladores inmobiliarios. Es el año 2014 y Terranova corre peligro de desaparecer tras más de sesenta años de resistencia ante los temporales más duros de la historia. Décadas en las que, dirigida primero por sus padres -Amaro y Comba- y por su tío Eliseo, y luego por él, fue siempre refugio para disidentes, perseguidos, libros prohibidos y contrabandistas de cultura. Un territorio de la memoria con una geografía propia, un sitio donde el exilio nunca ocurrió.
Aunque Terranova fue su hogar, Vicenzo, que arrastra en la vejez las secuelas de una enfermedad infantil, se rebela en su juventud contra los libros. Alejado del ambiente familiar, conoce en Madrid a Garúa, una enigmática chica argentina con la que regresa a Terranova a finales de 1975. En entonces cuando aprende de los libros todo lo importante, aquello que su familia siempre supo: cómo fingen, cómo ayudan, cómo enseñan a amar, cómo acompañan y cómo salvan.
El último día de Terranova es el relato de una lucha silenciosa contra la barbarie. Con la sensibilidad y el dominio del lenguaje que caracterizan su narrativa, Manuel Rivas construye una emocionante historia protagonizada por seres al tiempo valerosos y vulnerables, cuya vida es la suma de todo lo que cuentan, lo que imaginan y lo que jamás llegan a decir.
La vida de Vicenzo Fontana está a punto de entrar en Liquidación Final cuando su librería se ve asediada por la codicia implacable de los especuladores inmobiliarios. Es el año 2014 y Terranova corre peligro de desaparecer tras más de sesenta años de resistencia ante los temporales más duros de la historia. Décadas en las que, dirigida primero por sus padres -Amaro y Comba- y por su tío Eliseo, y luego por él, fue siempre refugio para disidentes, perseguidos, libros prohibidos y contrabandistas de cultura. Un territorio de la memoria con una geografía propia, un sitio donde el exilio nunca ocurrió.
Aunque Terranova fue su hogar, Vicenzo, que arrastra en la vejez las secuelas de una enfermedad infantil, se rebela en su juventud contra los libros. Alejado del ambiente familiar, conoce en Madrid a Garúa, una enigmática chica argentina con la que regresa a Terranova a finales de 1975. En entonces cuando aprende de los libros todo lo importante, aquello que su familia siempre supo: cómo fingen, cómo ayudan, cómo enseñan a amar, cómo acompañan y cómo salvan.
El último día de Terranova es el relato de una lucha silenciosa contra la barbarie. Con la sensibilidad y el dominio del lenguaje que caracterizan su narrativa, Manuel Rivas construye una emocionante historia protagonizada por seres al tiempo valerosos y vulnerables, cuya vida es la suma de todo lo que cuentan, lo que imaginan y lo que jamás llegan a decir.
225 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2015
40 people are currently reading
634 people want to read
About the author
Manuel Rivas
111 books240 followersManuel Rivas Barrós (born 24 October 1957 in A Coruña, Galicia, Spain) is a Galician writer, poet and journalist.
Manuel Rivas Barrós began his writing career at the age of 15. He has written articles and literature essays for Spanish newspapers and television stations like Televisión de Galicia, El Ideal Gallego, La Voz de Galicia, El País, and was the sub-editor of Diario 16 in Galicia. He was a founding member of Greenpeace Spain, and played an important role during the 2002 Prestige oil spill near the Galician coast.
As of 2017, Rivas has published 9 anthologies of poetry, 14 novels and several literature essays. He is considered a revolutionary in contemporary Galician literature. His 1996 book "Que me queres, amor?", a series of sixteen short stories, was adapted by director José Luis Cuerda for his film "A lingua das bolboretas" ("Butterfly's Tongue"). His 1998 novel "O lápis do carpinteiro" ("The Carpenter's Pencil") has been published in nine countries and it is the most widely translated work in the history of Galician literature. It also was adapted to cinema as "O Lápis do Carpinteiro".
Manuel Rivas Barrós began his writing career at the age of 15. He has written articles and literature essays for Spanish newspapers and television stations like Televisión de Galicia, El Ideal Gallego, La Voz de Galicia, El País, and was the sub-editor of Diario 16 in Galicia. He was a founding member of Greenpeace Spain, and played an important role during the 2002 Prestige oil spill near the Galician coast.
As of 2017, Rivas has published 9 anthologies of poetry, 14 novels and several literature essays. He is considered a revolutionary in contemporary Galician literature. His 1996 book "Que me queres, amor?", a series of sixteen short stories, was adapted by director José Luis Cuerda for his film "A lingua das bolboretas" ("Butterfly's Tongue"). His 1998 novel "O lápis do carpinteiro" ("The Carpenter's Pencil") has been published in nine countries and it is the most widely translated work in the history of Galician literature. It also was adapted to cinema as "O Lápis do Carpinteiro".
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 82 reviews
September 1, 2022
“I can picture the eyes poring over the last of the books, weighing their value, their health, color, musculature, and the state of their spines, meanwhile the books are in a state of shock as they feel the ground vanish out from under them.”
The Last Days of Terranova by Manuel Rivas (translated by Jacob Rogers) revolves around a family-owned bookstore in Galicia, Spain that is facing closure and the property to be handed over to real estate developers. As the story begins, we meet Vicenzo Fontana in 2014 as he broods over the imminent closure of The Terranova Bookstore, that has been in his family for decades, the fruition of his mother Comba’s dream to own her bookstore - the plans for which started taking shape in 1935. Her father, Vincenzo’s grandfather, worked very hard, in his lifetime, to make her dreams come true. Finally in 1946, she opened the store, marrying her husband Amaro the following year.
The story of the Terranova Bookstore and its owners is inextricably linked to the changing political and social landscape of the country and the surrounding region and moves through the years of the Francoist regime and the censorship of literature and the exile of intellectuals through the years to the democratic transition in the 1970s and the present day plagued by failing local independent businesses and economic recession. The narrative moves back and forth between various points of time in the past and the present day.
Vicenzo is dejected as he prepares for the liquidation of his inventory. He spends the last few days in his store with his dog, a few of the family's long time employees (who are more like family than staff) , and a new friend who has turned to him for help. As he prepares for the closure of the store and his imminent eviction from the property his memories take him back to the people and the events that have shaped his life.
“What did it matter if one bookstore closed, when so many other shops were closing too? A hole, an empty space, another hole. Emptiness grows, but due to its nature no one notices its reign until they find themselves trapped inside it. The eviction of souls, the cheapening of the imagination, the loss of oxygen.”
Vincenzo’s father, Amaro, a scholar of classical languages known for his passion for Homer’s Odyssey and a member of the Seminary of Galician Studies, loses his teaching job during the regime and devotes his time to the bookstore and writing articles under the pseudonym “Polytropos”, hosting intellectuals and facilitating debates and discussions and along with Vincenzo's Uncle Eliseo, facilitates the smuggling of banned books by emigrants and travelers in false bottomed suitcases across the seas and borders. They earn the reputation of a “banned book provider", acquiring books written by authors in exile and translations of international works banned in Francoist Spain,
braving inquiries, interrogations, informants and targeted raids through the years. Vincenzo, having suffered from polio and undergone a long, painful treatment using Iron Lung apparatus in the Marine Sanitarium as a child, found comfort among the shelves of the bookstore where his love for books and reading was nurtured. He also dreamed of leaving Galicia and did spend some of his early adult years in Madrid, returning with his friend Garua, an Argentinian revolutionary on the run, when it becomes unsafe for them to remain in Madrid in the aftermath of General Franco’s demise in the mid-1970s, gradually becoming more involved with the store.
The vivid descriptions of the bookstore with its owners and their friends, family and patrons, the historical backdrop and the numerous literary references make for an absorbing read. It does take a bit of effort to get used to the jumping timelines. Though we meet several characters whose stories are interwoven throughout the novel, nowhere did I feel that the author digressed from the main narrative and I did not lose interest at any point. With its beautiful prose and nostalgic tone, superb characterizations and relevant themes, this is an immersive and thought-provoking read that not only highlights the role of bookstores, books and literature in the lives of those who find comfort and solace in reading but also emphasizes the power of the written word in preserving history and instigating change and advancement of society as a whole. This was my first time reading Manuel Rivas and I was not disappointed!
“The link between a person’s life and what they like to read is unpredictable. According to the saying, we are what we read. But it could just as easily be said that we are what we don’t read.”
Many thanks to Archipelago Books and NetGalley for the digital review copy of this novel. All opinions expressed in this review are my own. This book is due to be released on October 11. 2022.
The Last Days of Terranova by Manuel Rivas (translated by Jacob Rogers) revolves around a family-owned bookstore in Galicia, Spain that is facing closure and the property to be handed over to real estate developers. As the story begins, we meet Vicenzo Fontana in 2014 as he broods over the imminent closure of The Terranova Bookstore, that has been in his family for decades, the fruition of his mother Comba’s dream to own her bookstore - the plans for which started taking shape in 1935. Her father, Vincenzo’s grandfather, worked very hard, in his lifetime, to make her dreams come true. Finally in 1946, she opened the store, marrying her husband Amaro the following year.
The story of the Terranova Bookstore and its owners is inextricably linked to the changing political and social landscape of the country and the surrounding region and moves through the years of the Francoist regime and the censorship of literature and the exile of intellectuals through the years to the democratic transition in the 1970s and the present day plagued by failing local independent businesses and economic recession. The narrative moves back and forth between various points of time in the past and the present day.
Vicenzo is dejected as he prepares for the liquidation of his inventory. He spends the last few days in his store with his dog, a few of the family's long time employees (who are more like family than staff) , and a new friend who has turned to him for help. As he prepares for the closure of the store and his imminent eviction from the property his memories take him back to the people and the events that have shaped his life.
“What did it matter if one bookstore closed, when so many other shops were closing too? A hole, an empty space, another hole. Emptiness grows, but due to its nature no one notices its reign until they find themselves trapped inside it. The eviction of souls, the cheapening of the imagination, the loss of oxygen.”
Vincenzo’s father, Amaro, a scholar of classical languages known for his passion for Homer’s Odyssey and a member of the Seminary of Galician Studies, loses his teaching job during the regime and devotes his time to the bookstore and writing articles under the pseudonym “Polytropos”, hosting intellectuals and facilitating debates and discussions and along with Vincenzo's Uncle Eliseo, facilitates the smuggling of banned books by emigrants and travelers in false bottomed suitcases across the seas and borders. They earn the reputation of a “banned book provider", acquiring books written by authors in exile and translations of international works banned in Francoist Spain,
braving inquiries, interrogations, informants and targeted raids through the years. Vincenzo, having suffered from polio and undergone a long, painful treatment using Iron Lung apparatus in the Marine Sanitarium as a child, found comfort among the shelves of the bookstore where his love for books and reading was nurtured. He also dreamed of leaving Galicia and did spend some of his early adult years in Madrid, returning with his friend Garua, an Argentinian revolutionary on the run, when it becomes unsafe for them to remain in Madrid in the aftermath of General Franco’s demise in the mid-1970s, gradually becoming more involved with the store.
The vivid descriptions of the bookstore with its owners and their friends, family and patrons, the historical backdrop and the numerous literary references make for an absorbing read. It does take a bit of effort to get used to the jumping timelines. Though we meet several characters whose stories are interwoven throughout the novel, nowhere did I feel that the author digressed from the main narrative and I did not lose interest at any point. With its beautiful prose and nostalgic tone, superb characterizations and relevant themes, this is an immersive and thought-provoking read that not only highlights the role of bookstores, books and literature in the lives of those who find comfort and solace in reading but also emphasizes the power of the written word in preserving history and instigating change and advancement of society as a whole. This was my first time reading Manuel Rivas and I was not disappointed!
“The link between a person’s life and what they like to read is unpredictable. According to the saying, we are what we read. But it could just as easily be said that we are what we don’t read.”
Many thanks to Archipelago Books and NetGalley for the digital review copy of this novel. All opinions expressed in this review are my own. This book is due to be released on October 11. 2022.
January 29, 2022
Não queria ser um escravo dos livros. Queria-os para ler, mas o meu sonho não era propriamente ser livreiro. Achava curioso que aqueles homens e mulheres aproveitassem as suas viagens de ida e volta da emigração para trazerem livros no fundo falso da mala. (...) Admirava-os a eles, não aos livros. O tempo todo a reclamar atenção! A Terranova podia existir sem livros. Comba, Amaro, Eliseo não viviam dos livros, viviam para os livros.
As lágrimas surgem-me das leituras mais insuspeitas: John Banville, Magda Szabó e agora Manuel Rivas, repetente nos últimos dois meses. As relações de amizade e os laços de família que este autor galego tece são tão intensos e complexos, mas ao mesmo tempo tão imperfeitos, que me comovem como poucos.
O “Último Dia da Terranova” não foi bem recebido pela maioria dos leitores do Goodreads, e eu compreendo-os porque é uma obra que exige paciência e compromisso desde o início, por começar in medias res, num discurso cheio de referências e nomes de personagens que só vamos identificar à medida que avançamos. Eu recuei tanto e tantas vezes para me situar, que acabei por voltar à primeira página. E não me arrependo, porque a minha vontade neste instante é devolvê-lo à biblioteca, comprar o meu exemplar e relê-lo de imediato.
Vicenzo Fontana, devido à especulação imobiliária, está prestes a ser despejado da livraria herdada dos pais, onde vive com a sua antiga ama-de leite Expectatión, com a cadela Baleia V, uns quantos gatos e infindáveis recordações.
Comba abriu a Terranova com o dinheiro que o pai ganhou como pescador, era irmã de Eliseo, que o pai proibiu de trabalhar, e casou-se com Amaro, “O Homem Apagado”, o “Homem que Mais Sabe Sobre Ulisses”.
Certo dia Comba foi para as águas-furtadas e já não voltou a descer. Não perdera a memória, escolhera antes uma, estacional, a da primavera da vida. Sentava-se junto ao postigo partido e punha-se a costurar disfarces. Disfarces para mim. Disfarces para os gatos. Disfarces para todos.
(...)
Eles gostam um do outro.
Claro que sim, mamã.
(...)
Eu também gosto muito dos dois, portanto, tenho de tomar conta deles. E por isso vou casar com Amaro. Para estarmos sempre juntos.
Juntos, durante várias décadas da ditadura espanhola, com os riscos e as repercussões que se podem imaginar, gerem este centro de contrabando de livros proibidos, pretexto extraordinário que Manuel Rivas aproveita para estender uma ponte da Corunha para Portugal, com o movimento surrealista e, por exemplo, o espantoso conto do coelho e da couve de Pedro Oom, que já não ouvia desde criança, e para a Argentina, estabelecendo paralelos com a ditadura nos três países, com episódios caricatos que poderão ou não ter sido protagonizados por Jorge Luis Borges e Roberto Arlt.
Em Espanha tinham desmantelado tudo e não estavam para aturar essas ínsuas libertárias. A República que as pessoas tinham metido na cabeça. O país invisível ia e vinha dentro das malas. Até terra levavam nas malas, terra a sério. Como a que levaram para as exéquias de Castelao. Foi o enterro de um profeta na diáspora. Ele queria descansar em terra galega. Mas aqui, na sua terra, mandavam os assassinos, portanto levámos a terra para Buenos Aires.
“O Último Dia da Terranova” deixou-me assombrada com a bagagem literária de Rivas e com a perfusão de temas que ele consegue conciliar e amalgamar num contínuo em que todos eles parecem fluir naturalmente e, depois, voltar ao ponto de partida. Rivas fala de saneamento político, de exílio, da criminalização da homossexualidade, da poliomielite, de Péron, de criminalidade, da imaginação como fuga, do activismo, de revoluções surrealistas e sobretudo de resistência, tanto política como pessoal, enquanto indivíduo e enquanto pessoa integrada numa família, a família de sangue e aquela que se escolhe.
O que acontecia com o tio Eliseo é que passava o dia a desbravar caminhos na fronteira da realidade. Mas não como uma nuvem negra, ele falava de uma penumbra alegre. Dizia que ouvira isso a María Zambrano, quando a visitou em Itália e a ajudou na sua mudança com os gatos para França. Ela fez-lhe essa gentileza, o de pôr nome ao lugar, um país portátil, onde se sentisse bem. O da Penumbra Tocada de Alegria.
As lágrimas surgem-me das leituras mais insuspeitas: John Banville, Magda Szabó e agora Manuel Rivas, repetente nos últimos dois meses. As relações de amizade e os laços de família que este autor galego tece são tão intensos e complexos, mas ao mesmo tempo tão imperfeitos, que me comovem como poucos.
O “Último Dia da Terranova” não foi bem recebido pela maioria dos leitores do Goodreads, e eu compreendo-os porque é uma obra que exige paciência e compromisso desde o início, por começar in medias res, num discurso cheio de referências e nomes de personagens que só vamos identificar à medida que avançamos. Eu recuei tanto e tantas vezes para me situar, que acabei por voltar à primeira página. E não me arrependo, porque a minha vontade neste instante é devolvê-lo à biblioteca, comprar o meu exemplar e relê-lo de imediato.
Vicenzo Fontana, devido à especulação imobiliária, está prestes a ser despejado da livraria herdada dos pais, onde vive com a sua antiga ama-de leite Expectatión, com a cadela Baleia V, uns quantos gatos e infindáveis recordações.
Comba abriu a Terranova com o dinheiro que o pai ganhou como pescador, era irmã de Eliseo, que o pai proibiu de trabalhar, e casou-se com Amaro, “O Homem Apagado”, o “Homem que Mais Sabe Sobre Ulisses”.
Certo dia Comba foi para as águas-furtadas e já não voltou a descer. Não perdera a memória, escolhera antes uma, estacional, a da primavera da vida. Sentava-se junto ao postigo partido e punha-se a costurar disfarces. Disfarces para mim. Disfarces para os gatos. Disfarces para todos.
(...)
Eles gostam um do outro.
Claro que sim, mamã.
(...)
Eu também gosto muito dos dois, portanto, tenho de tomar conta deles. E por isso vou casar com Amaro. Para estarmos sempre juntos.
Juntos, durante várias décadas da ditadura espanhola, com os riscos e as repercussões que se podem imaginar, gerem este centro de contrabando de livros proibidos, pretexto extraordinário que Manuel Rivas aproveita para estender uma ponte da Corunha para Portugal, com o movimento surrealista e, por exemplo, o espantoso conto do coelho e da couve de Pedro Oom, que já não ouvia desde criança, e para a Argentina, estabelecendo paralelos com a ditadura nos três países, com episódios caricatos que poderão ou não ter sido protagonizados por Jorge Luis Borges e Roberto Arlt.
Em Espanha tinham desmantelado tudo e não estavam para aturar essas ínsuas libertárias. A República que as pessoas tinham metido na cabeça. O país invisível ia e vinha dentro das malas. Até terra levavam nas malas, terra a sério. Como a que levaram para as exéquias de Castelao. Foi o enterro de um profeta na diáspora. Ele queria descansar em terra galega. Mas aqui, na sua terra, mandavam os assassinos, portanto levámos a terra para Buenos Aires.
“O Último Dia da Terranova” deixou-me assombrada com a bagagem literária de Rivas e com a perfusão de temas que ele consegue conciliar e amalgamar num contínuo em que todos eles parecem fluir naturalmente e, depois, voltar ao ponto de partida. Rivas fala de saneamento político, de exílio, da criminalização da homossexualidade, da poliomielite, de Péron, de criminalidade, da imaginação como fuga, do activismo, de revoluções surrealistas e sobretudo de resistência, tanto política como pessoal, enquanto indivíduo e enquanto pessoa integrada numa família, a família de sangue e aquela que se escolhe.
O que acontecia com o tio Eliseo é que passava o dia a desbravar caminhos na fronteira da realidade. Mas não como uma nuvem negra, ele falava de uma penumbra alegre. Dizia que ouvira isso a María Zambrano, quando a visitou em Itália e a ajudou na sua mudança com os gatos para França. Ela fez-lhe essa gentileza, o de pôr nome ao lugar, um país portátil, onde se sentisse bem. O da Penumbra Tocada de Alegria.
June 1, 2024
I found this one to be a lot of fun to read. Rivas' sentences and characters are playful, giving the novel a joyful tone despite some somber episodes. The lower average rating probably stems from a lack of a true plot, as Rivas is really more interested in showing the evolution of Spain in the second half of the 20th century. But this is never a boring book. Plus it's set in a bookstore, which can never be a bad thing. Eliseo, Amaro, Garua and Vicenzo are characters that I will remember fondly. Strong four stars. I look forward to reading more Rivas.
December 2, 2022
A love letter to books, literature and bookstores. Beautiful prose.
September 5, 2022
Since I'm a sucker for stories with bookstores as background, I was drawn to this. Once again, archipelago books presents a treasure, a beautifully translated work heretofore unavailable in English. I learned recently that archipelago is not-for-profit, which makes me love them and their presentations even more. Manuel Rivas, the author, is contemporary, from Galicia, but kudos also to translator Jacob Rogers for doing such a fine job in bringing this mixture of history, memory and current event to life.
April 20, 2022
This is a story of endings. The name in the title is the Terranova bookstore and the owner has received a final liquidation notice. The store is located at the end of Spain, Galicia. After seventy years, the bookstore is being forced to close. It’s 2014.
For us book lovers, we know this tune so well. The small independent bookstores all over the world are having a tough time competing with the online world. And yet, there is nothing like going into a small bookstore and finding some gem. Hey, it happened to me. See my most recent review of La ridícula idea de no volver a verte.
This book tells the story of Vincenzo Fontana. As a boy he had polio and spent time in an iron lung. He survived the iron lung (a sort of ending) but his health was always a concern. His parents Amaro and Comba ran the bookstore, and then later, his uncle Eliseo, and finally Vincenzo.
His father Amaro had a passion for Homer’s Odyssey, a tale of the very ending. Under Franco, his views made it a challenge to be a professor, so he was forced to take on the bookstore (another ending). His uncle Amaro, always close to emigrés, had connections to the Surrealist poets (the Portuguese Pedro Oom). However, he ran into problems with the Falange hoodlums who kept the towns people in check. More endings.
A bookstore on the edge. Near the light house. A lot of the books that they sold were banned books. Contraband. A beacon in the dark?
And of course there is Garúa, a young woman from Argentina. A mysterious girl always makes for a good romance. A girl from Argentina in the 1970s? What’s her past? Where does this go? What kind of ending will we get? Now this is a good story.
Add in the issues of the people of Galicia. Under Franco, the language was suppressed. Resistance grew and was crushed. Like the Basque and Catalan, these issues are always under the surface.
So a most unusual bookstore book. And this gives the book so much charm. This was my first time reading Manuel Rivas but it won’t be my last.
A special thanks to Paula who made the introduction. Obrigado.
For us book lovers, we know this tune so well. The small independent bookstores all over the world are having a tough time competing with the online world. And yet, there is nothing like going into a small bookstore and finding some gem. Hey, it happened to me. See my most recent review of La ridícula idea de no volver a verte.
This book tells the story of Vincenzo Fontana. As a boy he had polio and spent time in an iron lung. He survived the iron lung (a sort of ending) but his health was always a concern. His parents Amaro and Comba ran the bookstore, and then later, his uncle Eliseo, and finally Vincenzo.
His father Amaro had a passion for Homer’s Odyssey, a tale of the very ending. Under Franco, his views made it a challenge to be a professor, so he was forced to take on the bookstore (another ending). His uncle Amaro, always close to emigrés, had connections to the Surrealist poets (the Portuguese Pedro Oom). However, he ran into problems with the Falange hoodlums who kept the towns people in check. More endings.
A bookstore on the edge. Near the light house. A lot of the books that they sold were banned books. Contraband. A beacon in the dark?
And of course there is Garúa, a young woman from Argentina. A mysterious girl always makes for a good romance. A girl from Argentina in the 1970s? What’s her past? Where does this go? What kind of ending will we get? Now this is a good story.
Add in the issues of the people of Galicia. Under Franco, the language was suppressed. Resistance grew and was crushed. Like the Basque and Catalan, these issues are always under the surface.
So a most unusual bookstore book. And this gives the book so much charm. This was my first time reading Manuel Rivas but it won’t be my last.
A special thanks to Paula who made the introduction. Obrigado.
January 2, 2017
Really difficult to describe.
It is the first book written in Galician that I have read since 1998 (probably).
I am not a big fan of the author, only one book before this, but I have to say that somehow I enjoyed this book. At least some chapters.
The end (no spoiler) was confusing and it seemed like a way of putting a lot of things together.
The constant changes of the story (past, present) were a bit chaotic, as well.
But you have to say always something good of a book, and I have to say that some chapters/scenes/characters are a good representation of the history of Galicia during the previous century.
It is the first book written in Galician that I have read since 1998 (probably).
I am not a big fan of the author, only one book before this, but I have to say that somehow I enjoyed this book. At least some chapters.
The end (no spoiler) was confusing and it seemed like a way of putting a lot of things together.
The constant changes of the story (past, present) were a bit chaotic, as well.
But you have to say always something good of a book, and I have to say that some chapters/scenes/characters are a good representation of the history of Galicia during the previous century.
January 13, 2023
This novel, narrated by a man in his 60s (not "elderly" as the book description suggests) looks back over the preceding nearly 70 years, as the impending closure of Terranova, the bookstore founded and operated by his family, nears. Rivas' style is immersive—the absence of quotation marks and his tendency to only reveal connections and speakers over time add to this. But this work is alternately funny, wise and heartbreaking with an eccentric cast in the almost fantastic setting of a bookstore (and book smuggling operation) set against political upheavals in Spain and Argentinian from the 1930s through to 2014. I loved this book, my first by Rivas.
A longer review can be found here: https://roughghosts.com/2023/01/13/lo...
A longer review can be found here: https://roughghosts.com/2023/01/13/lo...
January 22, 2023
This book is the ultimate love letter written for bookstores, books, literature and library. Its beautiful, melancholic and sad. It gave warmth with beautiful proses, appreciation for the literatures. Its one of those books where you felt so much love for this art. Though, the story can get slow at times and draggy, i still think its a good story.
January 15, 2023
This is a beautiful book -- a paean to writers, booksellers, philosophers, artists, musicians, seekers after truth. It is the story of Vicenzo Fontana, the bookstore "Terranova" that his family established and in which they lived in Galicia, an Argentinian woman Garua who was the love of Vicenzo's life for not enough years, and the oppressive fascist regimes in Spain and Argentina during the 20th century.
When the story opens in the fall of 2014, Vicenzo is a man in his mid-60s. His bookstore "Terranova" has for years been threatened with eviction, and he has just posted a "total liquidation" sign in the window. But as he walks along the shoreline, his thoughts take him back in time. In the way of a person thinking, things do not come to him in chronological order, but instead from image to image, remembrance to remembrance, person to person. Over the course of the novel, we learn the history from Vicenzo and his family from approximately the early 1930s through sometime in approximately 2015.
Vicenzo's maternal grandparents were Anton, a quartermaster, and Nina, a seamstress. They had two children, Comba (Vicenzo's mom) and Eliseo (Vicenzo's uncle). Anton took every job available and saved every penny, so when he died at sea in the late 1930s there were funds available for Comba to open the "Terranova" bookstore.
Eliseo's best friend was Amaro Fontana (Vicenzo's dad), from a well-off family who lived in the "Big House" in Chor. Amaro and Eliseo spent years in hiding during the civil war (1936-1939) to avoid being coopted into or killed by the warring factions. Amaro taught Greek and English in a secondary school, and he and Eliseo were active members of the "Seminary of Galician Studies." After Franco's coup in 1939, Amaro was purged out of the teaching profession in 1942. Comba opened "Terranova" in 1946, she and Amaro married in 1947, and Eliseo came to live with them at "Terranova."
Vicenzo contracted polio as a child and spent several years beginning around 1957 in an iron lung in a sanitarium in Santiago. It was the visits from and stories told to him by his Uncle Eliseo that made the time bearable for him. When Uncle Eliseo told a story, it was as if it were happening right now. By 1965, Vincenzo was able to return to "Terranova" and begin learning to walk with crutches, and like many teenagers he wanted nothing more than to escape his family and his home.
For a time during his 20s, he was a lyricist for a band "the Urchins." He died his hair green, called himself "The White Duke," and styled himself after David Bowie. His drug usage resulted in his moving to Madrid, where in 1974 he met an Argentinian woman named Garua.
On the day of Franco's funeral, November 3, 1975, Vicenzo and Garua took a train to Galicia and moved in with Vicenzo's family at "Terranova." Over the next several years, Garua (along with the reader) learns all about the history of the Fontana/Ponte family, Henrique "Atlas" Lira who was best friends with Amaro and Eliseo, Expectacion who was the caretaker at the "Big House" and her son Dombodan who was Vicenzo's closest friend, and Eliseo's travels over the decades. The family "Terranova" also learns about, loves, and protects Garua.
Swirling through all of the decades are the art & books & philosophers of the 20th century. And there are likewise deep hurts and painful losses for every character in the novel arising from the brutality of fascists. Each character carries their own regrets for the benefits they obtained at high cost to those who loved them and had less. Not to worry though -- the story ends on a high & joyous note.
I loved this book so much that I had to go back and reread much of it the very next day.
When the story opens in the fall of 2014, Vicenzo is a man in his mid-60s. His bookstore "Terranova" has for years been threatened with eviction, and he has just posted a "total liquidation" sign in the window. But as he walks along the shoreline, his thoughts take him back in time. In the way of a person thinking, things do not come to him in chronological order, but instead from image to image, remembrance to remembrance, person to person. Over the course of the novel, we learn the history from Vicenzo and his family from approximately the early 1930s through sometime in approximately 2015.
Vicenzo's maternal grandparents were Anton, a quartermaster, and Nina, a seamstress. They had two children, Comba (Vicenzo's mom) and Eliseo (Vicenzo's uncle). Anton took every job available and saved every penny, so when he died at sea in the late 1930s there were funds available for Comba to open the "Terranova" bookstore.
Eliseo's best friend was Amaro Fontana (Vicenzo's dad), from a well-off family who lived in the "Big House" in Chor. Amaro and Eliseo spent years in hiding during the civil war (1936-1939) to avoid being coopted into or killed by the warring factions. Amaro taught Greek and English in a secondary school, and he and Eliseo were active members of the "Seminary of Galician Studies." After Franco's coup in 1939, Amaro was purged out of the teaching profession in 1942. Comba opened "Terranova" in 1946, she and Amaro married in 1947, and Eliseo came to live with them at "Terranova."
Vicenzo contracted polio as a child and spent several years beginning around 1957 in an iron lung in a sanitarium in Santiago. It was the visits from and stories told to him by his Uncle Eliseo that made the time bearable for him. When Uncle Eliseo told a story, it was as if it were happening right now. By 1965, Vincenzo was able to return to "Terranova" and begin learning to walk with crutches, and like many teenagers he wanted nothing more than to escape his family and his home.
For a time during his 20s, he was a lyricist for a band "the Urchins." He died his hair green, called himself "The White Duke," and styled himself after David Bowie. His drug usage resulted in his moving to Madrid, where in 1974 he met an Argentinian woman named Garua.
On the day of Franco's funeral, November 3, 1975, Vicenzo and Garua took a train to Galicia and moved in with Vicenzo's family at "Terranova." Over the next several years, Garua (along with the reader) learns all about the history of the Fontana/Ponte family, Henrique "Atlas" Lira who was best friends with Amaro and Eliseo, Expectacion who was the caretaker at the "Big House" and her son Dombodan who was Vicenzo's closest friend, and Eliseo's travels over the decades. The family "Terranova" also learns about, loves, and protects Garua.
Swirling through all of the decades are the art & books & philosophers of the 20th century. And there are likewise deep hurts and painful losses for every character in the novel arising from the brutality of fascists. Each character carries their own regrets for the benefits they obtained at high cost to those who loved them and had less. Not to worry though -- the story ends on a high & joyous note.
I loved this book so much that I had to go back and reread much of it the very next day.
October 7, 2025
86th book read in 2025
This was my monthly read from the stack of Archipelago Books I have accrued via a subscription there. Each book is like a surprise package, often introducing me to a part of the world about which I know little. That was the case here.
The story is set in Spain, in a region known as Galicia, on the northwest coast, with a history going back to the Romans. It is also set in a bookstore, Terranova. I love bookstore stories but this one features an aspect that is particularly relevant to today, with our book bans and the ongoing struggle to maintain such stores versus online and ebook incursions.
So, for me it was an adventure including map study and some history. Terranova was founded by an elderly man who is, as the novel opens, spending the last night of the store’s existence in his office there. The store has fallen into the hands of real estate speculators.
The story is told by his son who lived through much upheaval. He jumps back and forward and gives the history of Terranova, of the effects and oppression from Franco and the Spanish Civil War and the authoritarian regime created by Franco. Most of what I knew about that conflict comes from For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway. Now I know more from a Galician bookstore family.
I loved the writing in this tale. I loved all the references to books that have been banned in various places over the decades and how many of these books were smuggled into Spain and lived as refugees on the Terranova shelves. From 1935 to 2005, I got the sense of an underground network of authors and bibliophiles from around the world. May they live on forever!
This was my monthly read from the stack of Archipelago Books I have accrued via a subscription there. Each book is like a surprise package, often introducing me to a part of the world about which I know little. That was the case here.
The story is set in Spain, in a region known as Galicia, on the northwest coast, with a history going back to the Romans. It is also set in a bookstore, Terranova. I love bookstore stories but this one features an aspect that is particularly relevant to today, with our book bans and the ongoing struggle to maintain such stores versus online and ebook incursions.
So, for me it was an adventure including map study and some history. Terranova was founded by an elderly man who is, as the novel opens, spending the last night of the store’s existence in his office there. The store has fallen into the hands of real estate speculators.
The story is told by his son who lived through much upheaval. He jumps back and forward and gives the history of Terranova, of the effects and oppression from Franco and the Spanish Civil War and the authoritarian regime created by Franco. Most of what I knew about that conflict comes from For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway. Now I know more from a Galician bookstore family.
I loved the writing in this tale. I loved all the references to books that have been banned in various places over the decades and how many of these books were smuggled into Spain and lived as refugees on the Terranova shelves. From 1935 to 2005, I got the sense of an underground network of authors and bibliophiles from around the world. May they live on forever!
June 20, 2021
Un libro moi estraño, con saltos temporais que complican un pouco a trama, e unha maneira moi persoal de introducir diálogos e pensamentos. É un libro para ler pouco a pouco.
December 21, 2015
Un antiguo librero está a punto de ser deshauciado: todo un símbolo en esta España reciente del abuso inmobiliario. Con ese motivo, Manuel Rivas reflexiona sobre los libros, el pasado y sobre las dictaduras que no pasan, que sutilmente permanecen. Dos dictaduras están presentes en la novela, la española y la argentina.
La novela tiene brillantes destellos, grandes momentos que en buena medida lucen por esa prosa lírica que hace tan bella la escritura de M.Rivas. En ciertos momentos, me recuerda a la Juan Marsé.
Pero a la novela le sobran largos y tediosos tramos que parecen construidos como un tejido de citas cultas, como si no hubiera historia que contar (o fuera más corta, o se abandonara) y se pusiera ese mimbre de citas cultas en su lugar.
La novela tiene brillantes destellos, grandes momentos que en buena medida lucen por esa prosa lírica que hace tan bella la escritura de M.Rivas. En ciertos momentos, me recuerda a la Juan Marsé.
Pero a la novela le sobran largos y tediosos tramos que parecen construidos como un tejido de citas cultas, como si no hubiera historia que contar (o fuera más corta, o se abandonara) y se pusiera ese mimbre de citas cultas en su lugar.
dnf
April 18, 2023I was excited to read a book translated from Galician (original title El Último Día de Terranova) and about a bookstore whose name refers to the place I live. Thanks to Archipelago and Netgalley for providing an eARC in exchange for an honest review.
A regretful DNF at 42% but the issue is on my side. I feel that the author Manuel Rivas is writing from a place of erudition and reference that is beyond my literary and political knowledge. The story is that a family-run bookstore owned by Vicenzo is closing and he goes backward in time reminiscing about the time when the bookstore was a conduit for smuggling of anti-establishment books across the Atlantic during Franco's regime. The settings leapfrog from Galicia to Madrid to Coimbra and beyond, the time looping continuously to different points of history with significant political and social changing landscapes. The literary references came fast and furious which I diligently looked up at first then became hopelessly lost. A salute to Manuel Rivas and translator Jacob Rogers for floating this literary life raft over, I am sorry I couldn't board it for the entirety of the journey but do feel enriched and chastened to broaden my literary horizons more.
A regretful DNF at 42% but the issue is on my side. I feel that the author Manuel Rivas is writing from a place of erudition and reference that is beyond my literary and political knowledge. The story is that a family-run bookstore owned by Vicenzo is closing and he goes backward in time reminiscing about the time when the bookstore was a conduit for smuggling of anti-establishment books across the Atlantic during Franco's regime. The settings leapfrog from Galicia to Madrid to Coimbra and beyond, the time looping continuously to different points of history with significant political and social changing landscapes. The literary references came fast and furious which I diligently looked up at first then became hopelessly lost. A salute to Manuel Rivas and translator Jacob Rogers for floating this literary life raft over, I am sorry I couldn't board it for the entirety of the journey but do feel enriched and chastened to broaden my literary horizons more.
January 11, 2023
Al tramonto! At dusk. There are days when someone will come into the bookstore: I’ll know because of the bell at the door, but I won’t get up, because I’m busy or occupied with something, and all of a sudden my heart will skip a beat, because when I look up, I’ll see someone with their back to me, in a colorful wool hat, fur coat, hippy skirt or flight pants, and I won’t say a word, I’ll watch their every movement, as they stand up on tiptoes, outstretch their arm, and pull out one of the Libros del Mirasol relics. Yes, yes. Precisely that one, El cazador oculto, The Hidden Hunter, the last copy.
This book was unique in that it deals with an aging bookstore owner- an outcast- and the final liquidation of the store by real estate speculators. There are interesting bits of information on books- both lost and modern- that deal with the pages of history that this Terranova bookstore is witness to. Rivas executes his novel with remarkable finesse as he demonstrates his mastery of modern literary techniques. Drifting back and forth between memory and time the narrative deals with the course of history that the store takes- from its inception by the owner's father to the time when it was being run by his uncle- at a time when the bookshop was home to literary and political dissidents and iconoclasts from several walks of life- till the time when the communist regimes in both Spain and Argentina were sounding their death knells.
On the hindsight I can't say that I liked it enough. A lot of it was rather digressive and whimsical and there are not many incidental relevances to grab the reader's attention here. I can very well guess the writer here singing a paen to his lifelong love of books. He even does not leave modern metafiction behind as Gombrowicz gets a mention here with his Ferdydurke. That seemed interesting as Witold Gombrowicz is one of my favorites. A lot that is politically forbidden during those regimes in Spain and Argentina is dealt with in here in the guise of books..
This book was unique in that it deals with an aging bookstore owner- an outcast- and the final liquidation of the store by real estate speculators. There are interesting bits of information on books- both lost and modern- that deal with the pages of history that this Terranova bookstore is witness to. Rivas executes his novel with remarkable finesse as he demonstrates his mastery of modern literary techniques. Drifting back and forth between memory and time the narrative deals with the course of history that the store takes- from its inception by the owner's father to the time when it was being run by his uncle- at a time when the bookshop was home to literary and political dissidents and iconoclasts from several walks of life- till the time when the communist regimes in both Spain and Argentina were sounding their death knells.
On the hindsight I can't say that I liked it enough. A lot of it was rather digressive and whimsical and there are not many incidental relevances to grab the reader's attention here. I can very well guess the writer here singing a paen to his lifelong love of books. He even does not leave modern metafiction behind as Gombrowicz gets a mention here with his Ferdydurke. That seemed interesting as Witold Gombrowicz is one of my favorites. A lot that is politically forbidden during those regimes in Spain and Argentina is dealt with in here in the guise of books..
March 10, 2016
Tengo sentimientos encontrados tras la lectura de esta novela.
La trama principal parte del presente con el inminente desahucio de un librero, pero hay otras tramas secundarias, ambientadas en distintos momentos del pasado que, si bien podrían ser por sí mismas motivos de otra novela, se entremezclan de una forma que me ha resultado algo caótica.
Los personajes vislumbran una personalidad con un atisbo de encanto que quizás exigiría su desarrollo en una novela con más páginas (me quedo con el tío Eliseo). Con las diferentes historias de cada uno de ellos pasa lo mismo.
La novela resulta ser un homenaje a la literatura en general y a los libreros en particular, con algunos pasajes brillantes pero con una estructura que no me ha acabado de convencer.
La trama principal parte del presente con el inminente desahucio de un librero, pero hay otras tramas secundarias, ambientadas en distintos momentos del pasado que, si bien podrían ser por sí mismas motivos de otra novela, se entremezclan de una forma que me ha resultado algo caótica.
Los personajes vislumbran una personalidad con un atisbo de encanto que quizás exigiría su desarrollo en una novela con más páginas (me quedo con el tío Eliseo). Con las diferentes historias de cada uno de ellos pasa lo mismo.
La novela resulta ser un homenaje a la literatura en general y a los libreros en particular, con algunos pasajes brillantes pero con una estructura que no me ha acabado de convencer.
April 14, 2016
Me gusta mucho Rivas, pero en el presente libro creo que se enreda en una suerte de subtramas que distraen al lector y lo alejan de la trama principal.
March 4, 2016
En el cierre de librerías hay una crisis del lugar humano, decía Manuel Rivas en una entrevista para un periódico donde hablaba de su última novela El último día de Terranova, una ficción donde el autor nos contará lo que significa el cierre de una librería y la pérdida de memoria que esto supone.
El último día de Terranova se inicia con el inminente cierre de la librería familiar a causa de la especulación urbanística y donde Vicenzo Fontana, el dueño que la regenta en A Coruña, colgará un cartel en la puerta de la misma... http://www.abrirunlibro.com/2016/01/e...
El último día de Terranova se inicia con el inminente cierre de la librería familiar a causa de la especulación urbanística y donde Vicenzo Fontana, el dueño que la regenta en A Coruña, colgará un cartel en la puerta de la misma... http://www.abrirunlibro.com/2016/01/e...
March 6, 2024
id say this was a solid 3.5/5. i think it attempted a little too hard to be whimsical and poetic and the plot got a little lost. but the parts that went quickly went really quickly. loved the mystical banned books spanish civil war thread. loved the imagery of terranova and the descriptions of expectación and garúa. just wish the perspective/timeline had been a little more cohesive but that’s my opinion🤷♀️
January 14, 2016
Manuel Rivas escribe de maravilla, pero en esta ocasión, a pesar de pasajes destacables y personajes con mucho encanto, el desorden, la cronología alterada sin demasiado sentido, me ha hecho alejarme por momentos (muchos) de la historia.
May 21, 2019
Una librería como escenario, el fascismo español, la dictadura argentina.
“Trece perales, diez manzanos, cuarenta higueras” 🖤
“Trece perales, diez manzanos, cuarenta higueras” 🖤
June 1, 2020
Está escrito de una manera diferente y envolvente que te mantiene siempre interesado en lo que sigue.
April 9, 2023
There are a number of elements of "The Last Days of Terranova" that make it immediately appealing to me. The novel is about an independent, family-owned bookstore, which is named for the time the founder, the protagonist’s grandfather, spent in Newfoundland (terranova); the protagonist is disabled, and is about my age, a little older actually. These elements predispose me to like the book, and it is a very likable book because Rivas is a superb storyteller. He does not tell a family saga that is Comic and/or Tragic–capital C, capital T–but a story that is sad and funny, a story that reflects the thoughtful, reflective, readerly, and cultured nature of a family for whom the bookstore is a sanctuary and books provide means of making sense of the world, particularly during and in the aftermath of the Franco dictatorship. A bookstore in Franco’s Spain, that’s the grist, the sand in the oyster, that makes this novel work, giving it both its spine and its wistful nostalgia.
Rivas is from Galicia, and he writes the novel in Galician. The bookstore is in the seaside town of A Coruña, Galicia, in the northwest of Spain. The founder of the bookstore worked in Newfoundland, as many from Northwest Spain did for centuries, but the cold drove him home to the warmth of Spain to start the bookstore. The time period runs from Republican Spain to the Franco dictatorship to the current moment of the novel, the second decade of the 21st C. The novel spans three generations, but focuses primarily on the grandson, his parents, and uncle. The book begins in the current moment when the bookstore, like businesses in the rest of the town, has suffered an economic downturn and closure is a threat. Rivas then hopscotches back and forth to various key moments in the history of the family, bookstore, region, nation, and world: for example, the death and funeral of Franco. Typically, the family and bookstore timelines intersect with other larger historical forces.
The major themes: 1. The family and the bookstore’s perseverance through Franco, and the dictatorship’s dogged efforts to censor books; the bookstore becomes a successful locus for clandestine books, which the government, despite raids and torturing members of the family, never find. Rivas portrays the bookstore as an eminently defensible space. 2. Rivas threads together both the Franco and 1970s “Dirty War”Argentine dictatorships to illustrate the global reach of fascism. An Argentine character escapes to Spain, only to be hunted down by Argentine foreign agents. She finds refuge in the bookstore. 3. Disability: The protagonist, Vicenzo, contracted polio in the 1950s and spent time in an iron lung; throughout the rest of his life, he uses crutches. 4. Conformity and free spirits: How do free spirits, which are of course attracted to bookstores, navigate a world dominated by repression, suppression, and oppression?
I like how Rivas weaves his themes together: for example, how he uses disability to comment on dictatorship. Because of an internal political squabble, the dictatorship made a polio vaccine available much later than other countries: as a result, per capita, more people suffered from polio and its aftereffects in Spain than in other countries.
The novel did not end like I feared it might. Rivas mitigates the “death of bookstore” plot, metonym for the death of culture. The ending is neither Tragic nor Comic (in the unifying sense of classical comedy) but has an “it takes a village” vibe as characters keep on keeping on despite the difficulties and losses.
Rivas is from Galicia, and he writes the novel in Galician. The bookstore is in the seaside town of A Coruña, Galicia, in the northwest of Spain. The founder of the bookstore worked in Newfoundland, as many from Northwest Spain did for centuries, but the cold drove him home to the warmth of Spain to start the bookstore. The time period runs from Republican Spain to the Franco dictatorship to the current moment of the novel, the second decade of the 21st C. The novel spans three generations, but focuses primarily on the grandson, his parents, and uncle. The book begins in the current moment when the bookstore, like businesses in the rest of the town, has suffered an economic downturn and closure is a threat. Rivas then hopscotches back and forth to various key moments in the history of the family, bookstore, region, nation, and world: for example, the death and funeral of Franco. Typically, the family and bookstore timelines intersect with other larger historical forces.
The major themes: 1. The family and the bookstore’s perseverance through Franco, and the dictatorship’s dogged efforts to censor books; the bookstore becomes a successful locus for clandestine books, which the government, despite raids and torturing members of the family, never find. Rivas portrays the bookstore as an eminently defensible space. 2. Rivas threads together both the Franco and 1970s “Dirty War”Argentine dictatorships to illustrate the global reach of fascism. An Argentine character escapes to Spain, only to be hunted down by Argentine foreign agents. She finds refuge in the bookstore. 3. Disability: The protagonist, Vicenzo, contracted polio in the 1950s and spent time in an iron lung; throughout the rest of his life, he uses crutches. 4. Conformity and free spirits: How do free spirits, which are of course attracted to bookstores, navigate a world dominated by repression, suppression, and oppression?
I like how Rivas weaves his themes together: for example, how he uses disability to comment on dictatorship. Because of an internal political squabble, the dictatorship made a polio vaccine available much later than other countries: as a result, per capita, more people suffered from polio and its aftereffects in Spain than in other countries.
The novel did not end like I feared it might. Rivas mitigates the “death of bookstore” plot, metonym for the death of culture. The ending is neither Tragic nor Comic (in the unifying sense of classical comedy) but has an “it takes a village” vibe as characters keep on keeping on despite the difficulties and losses.
February 9, 2022
Me costó seguir la trama de la novela (si es que la tiene, en el sentido tradicional de la palabra trama), pero me gustaron mucho algunas frases, las referencias a Odisea, a Arlt, a Borges. Me parece que logra muy bien conectar la historia argentina con la española, a través del viaje, el exilio y la literatura.
February 25, 2022
Es un libro en el q cuesta entrar y aunque a medida q se lee lo vas cogiendo el gusto ,se queda cojo,lo más interesante son las alusiones a otras obras y autores
abandoned
February 26, 2023I really wanted to love this book, but I had to tap out at page 206. I think my complete ignorance of Galician history is what made this book inaccessible to me.
March 12, 2024
Al principio me costó trabajo entender hacía dónde iba y no me enganchó. Incluso me pregunté si había algún problema con la traducción por algunos pasajes no claros. Es un poco enredado. Pero más allá de la mitad del libro toma mucha claridad y mis sospechas de temas se confirmaron. Al final puedo decir que me gustó y tiene mucho contenido. Pero hay que perseverar para leerlo.
November 27, 2024
La verdad es que me apena puntuar tan bajo a mi paisano Manuel Rivas, pero tengo que reconocer que la novela se me hizo larga y tediosa. Narrada desde un pretendido punto de vista onírico se convierte en un deslavazado relato que no llega a enganchar en ningún momento, jugando con el surrealismo de manera poco acertada. Tras mis últimas decepciones con Rivas he llegado a la conclusión de que el único terreno donde me encuentro cómo con él es en el de los relatos. Su pluma en novela y ensayo se me hace demasiado farragosa.
February 17, 2016
Unha preciosa e nostálxica historia sobre as librerías, e a función que desempeñan nas sociedades. Máis alá de lugares para mercar libros, Rivas fala delas como eses espazos de encontro humano, no que se unen historias e se constrúe a memoria. Moitos espazos e moitos estilos, unha prosa esixente, que só pode vir da pluma deste autor.
Reseña completa aquí: http://lecturafilia.com/2016/02/12/a-...
Reseña completa aquí: http://lecturafilia.com/2016/02/12/a-...
April 25, 2016
Definitivamente no me gusta Manuel Rivas, tiene una forma de escribir extraña y confusa que me desconcierta y me saca por completo de la historia.
Ya me pasó con Los libros arden mal, tras 2 intentos los abandoné sin llegar ni a la página 100. Con este he querido darle otra oportunidad, pero no ha podido ser tampoco. :-(
Ya me pasó con Los libros arden mal, tras 2 intentos los abandoné sin llegar ni a la página 100. Con este he querido darle otra oportunidad, pero no ha podido ser tampoco. :-(
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