Cuento originalmente publicado en La furia (1959).
"Las supersticiones no dejaban vivir a Cristina. Una moneda con la efigie borrada, una mancha de tinta, la luna vista a través de dos vidrios, las iniciales de su nombre grabadas por azar sobre el tronco de un cedro la enloquecían de temor. Cuando nos conocimos llevaba puesto un vestido verde, que siguió usando hasta que se rompió, pues me dijo que le traía suerte y que en cuanto se ponía otro, azul, que le sentaba mejor, no nos veíamos".
Silvina Ocampo Aguirre was a poet and short-fiction writer.
Ocampo was the youngest of the six children of Manuel Ocampo and Ramona Aguirre. One of her sisters was Victoria Ocampo, the publisher of the literarily important Argentine magazine Sur.
Silvina was educated at home by tutors, and later studied drawing in Paris under Giorgio de Chirico. She was married to Adolfo Bioy Casares, whose lover she became (1933) when Bioy was 19. They were married in 1940. In 1954 she adopted Bioy’s daughter with another woman, Marta Bioy Ocampo (1954-94) who was killed in an automobile accident just three weeks after Silvina Ocampo’s death.
"Too cruel!" This was the pronouncement of literary critics in her home country of Argentina back in the years when Silvina Ocampo wrote here short stories. The House Made of Sugar serves as a prime example of exactly how cruel Silvina could be on her characters.
THE HOUSE MADE OF SUGAR Terror All Around “Superstitions kept Cristina from living.” Our first-person narrator begins by elaborating on how the love of his life, a young lady he will soon marry, Cristina, is made mad by fear over such objects as a coin with a blurry face, a spot of ink or the moon seen through two panes of glass; and not only with such as coins or ink, but Cristina refuses to cross certain streets, to see certain people, listen to certain pieces of music or eat strawberries in summer.
Harsh Judgement As noted above, back at the time when her tales were first published, many literary critics judged Silvina Ocampo’s treatment of her characters as “far too cruel.” With Cristina, we are given a sense of just how cruel – to be in terror of much of ordinary, everyday life to the point of acute paranoia was, according to those critics, cruelty in the extreme, entirely unacceptable for an author of literary fiction.
Dream House Once engaged to be married, our narrator must find a new place to live, one where no one has lived previously, since, according to Cristina, the fate of any former occupant would exert an influence on her own life (not on his life or their joint lives, he notes somewhat sourly, but only on her life). Finally, he finds such a house, an absolutely perfect house with a phone inside and garden in front, a house so white and gleaming it’s as if it’s made of sugar.
Unfortunate Fact He discovers a family once did occupy the house many years ago. No big deal, he thinks, and proceeds to convince Cristina no one has ever lived there and this house of sugar is the house of their dreams. Cristina believes him, cries out with joy once she takes a tour: “Here it smells clean. Nobody will be able to influence our lives or soil them with thoughts that corrupt the air.” So, a few days later they wed and move in. Do you sense a trace of Gothic horror brewing?
Chinks in The Armor Their happiness runneth over; their tranquility seems like it will never be broken. Then it happened: one day he answered the phone and someone asked for Mrs. Violeta, the person he surmised to be the previous tenant. Ah, if Cristina answered that phone call, that would spell the end of their happy marriage forever. Precautionary measures must be taken: he makes sure the phone remains off the hook and places a mailbox out by the gate and keeps for himself the one and only mailbox key.
Mysterious Gift Then, early one morning there’s a knock at the door – someone has left a package. He races downstairs but Cristina has already ripped open the package and is holding a velvet dress. “When did you order the dress, Cristina, and how did you pay for it?” She replies: “I ordered it some time ago and Mother gave me a few pesos.” This seems strange but he doesn’t say anything so as to offend her. Shortly thereafter, he notices Cristina’s character change: she has become sad, reserved, and nervous; she has lost her appetite and no longer wants to go to the theater or movies. Something is definitely amiss.
Gnawing Suspicion A dog enters their garden; Cristina names the dog Love and takes the dog in as her own. Then one afternoon he comes home unexpectedly and discovers a bicycle lying in the yard. Cristina is speaking with a young woman. He hides behind the door to overhear their conversation. The woman says she always wanted to meet her ever since she was eight-years old girl and calls Cristina by the name of Violeta. The young girl insists Violeta (Cristina) keep her lost dog and she will visit occasionally. Cristina replies how visits would be impossible since her husband doesn’t like strangers. The young girl, in turn, proposes they meet every Monday evening at seven at Columbia Square, on one of the bridges. Cristina tells her that her name is not Violeta, to which the young lady says how she has always been mysterious. At this point she leaves. Meanwhile, the narrator begins to feel a gnawing suspicion since it was as if he had just witnessed a theatrical rehearsal but he says nothing to Cristina.
Violeta Every day the narrator walks to the bridge to check to see if Cristina will come. He doesn’t see her but one day at home Cristina is hugging the dog and asks him if he would like it if she change her name to Violeta. He tells Cristina he wants her to keep her own name. Then, on a Saturday night he finally sees her on the bridge. She shows no surprise when he approaches. They exchange words and Cristina says how she dreams about trips, leaving without ever leaving, leaving and staying and by staying leaving.
Probing Question Then one fateful day when he sees her again on the bridge, he ventures to ask, “If we were to discover that this house was once inhabited by other people, what would you do, Cristina? Would you move away? Cristina replies, “If other people lived in this house, they must have been like those sugar figurines on desserts, or birthday cakes, sweet as sugar. This house makes me feel secure. It is the little garden by the entrance that makes me feel so calm? I don’t know! I wouldn’t move for all the money in the world. Besides, we don’t have anywhere to go. You yourself said that some time ago.”
Ominous Visitor One morning he watches from an upstairs window as a stranger arrives and threatens Cristina, saying if she, Violeta, sees Daniel again she will pay dearly. Cristina replies she doesn’t know Daniel and her name isn’t Violeta. The stranger accuses Cristina of lying. Cristina says she doesn’t want to listen. Hearing this, the narrator rushes downstairs and tells the intruder to get out. He looks closely at the stranger’s feet, hands and neck and realizes it’s a man in woman’s clothing. He doesn’t exchange words with Cristina on this episode but it was around this time that Cristina began singing spontaneously. Her voice was pleasant enough but it felt like a secret world that drew her away. Why?
Identity Theft Then one day Cristina says, “I suspect I am inheriting someone’s life, her joys and sorrows, mistakes and successes. I’m bewitched.” This startling revelation propels the narrator on a search for Violeta and the story takes a few more mysterious and eerily disturbing turns leading up to the concluding short paragraph: “From then on, Cristina had become Violeta, at least as far as I was concerned. I tried following her day and night to find her in the arms of her lovers. I became so estranged from her that I viewed her as a complete stranger. One winter night she fled. I searched for her until dawn. I don’t know who was the victim of whom in that house made of sugar, which now stands empty.”
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For readers of English, The House Made of Sugar is part of Thus Were Their Faces, a collection of Silvina Ocampo's short stories published by New York Review Books
Bueno, otro cuento que mandaron a leer a mi hermana chica y ella como buena hermana y sabiendo que me gusta leer, me pasó de manera voluntaria este texto (no fue necesario entrar con una serpiente depredadora de historias en su pieza, ya aprendió jajaja).
Me encanto! Una historia bien simple, de supersticiones, de locura y de una casa hermosa de azúcar.
La casa de azúcar es muy encantadora: describe cómo las personas cambian según el lugar, la casa y las cosas que los rodean. Recuerdo algunas historias de occidente donde se dice que todas las cosas tienen alma y por ejemplo en el jardín no es bueno desplazar cosas o trasladarlas a otro lugar. La protagonista Cristina acepta el papel de otra mujer que solía vivir en su casa antes que ella. Ella cambia - su comportamiento, sus sentimientos, las cosas que hace son diferentes y al final se aleja de su marido y cada uno toma un camino diferente.
Las supersticiones no dejaban vivir a Cristina. Una moneda con la efigie borrada, una mancha de tinta, la luna vista a través de dos vidrios, las iniciales de su nombre grabadas por azar sobre el tronco de un cedro la enloquecían de temor. Cuando nos conocimos llevaba puesto un vestido verde, que siguió usando hasta que se rompió, pues me dijo que le traía suerte y que en cuanto se ponía otro, azul, que le sentaba mejor, no nos veíamos. Traté de combatir estas manías absurdas. Le hice notar que tenía un espejo roto en su cuarto y que por más que yo le insistiera en la conveniencia de tirar los espejos rotos al agua, en una noche de luna, para quitarse la mala suerte, lo guardaba; que jamás temió que la luz de la casa bruscamente se apagara, y a pesar de que fuera un anuncio seguro de muerte, encendía con tranquilidad cualquier número de velas; que siempre dejaba sobre la cama el sombrero, error en que nadie incurría. Sus temores eran personales. Se infligía verdaderas privaciones; por ejemplo: no podía comprar frutillas en el mes de diciembre, ni oír determinadas músicas, ni adornar la casa con peces rojos, que tanto le gustaban. Había ciertas calles que no podíamos cruzar, ciertas personas, ciertos cinematógrafos que no podíamos frecuentar. Al principio de nuestra relación, estas supersticiones me parecieron encantadoras, pero después empezaron a fastidiarme y a preocuparme seriamente
A parte de la gracia y simplicidad con la que escribe este hermoso cuento, combina cada palabra mundana para enviar escalofríos por la espalda de extraño y perturbador. Una historia muy original en cuanto a la composición y experiencia de los personajes. Lo disfruté mucho y me dio mucho que pensar...
Un cuento sumamente corto que nos narra la historia de una pareja supersticiosa que se muda a una casa con apariencia de azúcar donde suceden sucesos extraños.
Un cuento maravilloso, Silvina nos habla de muchos temas en un minúsculo cuento y deja a la interpretación muchos otros.
La primera vez que lo leí fue a los 17 hoy con 11 años más me sigue produciendo lo mismo y me parece todavía más increíble. Silvina como Alejandra no se iba a enamorar de vos, si escribís así