O Céu de Lima

by Juan Gómez Bárcena, Paulina Wacht (Translator), Ari Roitman (Translator)

José Gálvez e Carlos Rodríguez gostam de pensar que são poetas. Filhos da elite limenha dos anos 1910, passam o tempo escrevendo versos e lendo autores importantes. Quando não conseguem encontrar o novo livro do mestre espanhol Juan Ramón Jímenez, eles decidem criar uma personagem feminina e pedir o livro diretamente ao poeta.

O resultado dessa broma literária foi uma vasta correspondência que culminou com o espanhol apaixonando-se por um fantasma. Baseando-se nesta história real, Juan Gómez Bárcena recria, de forma imaginativa e irônica, as condições sociais de Lima, o empenho de dois jovens poetas e a criação da musa perfeita para Ramón Jiménez, aquela que inspiraria um de seus melhores poemas.

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Spain, Novels, Romance, Poetry, Spanish Literature

248 pages, Paperback

First published April 1, 2014

About the author

Nace en Santander en 1984, aunque posteriormente reside en Córdoba, Budapest, México DF y Madrid. Licenciado en Teoría de la Literatura y Literatura Comparada (UCM), en la actualidad concluye sus estudios en Filosofía (UNED) e Historia (UCM). Es autor de las novelas El héroe de Duranza (Ed. Ir Indo, 2002) y Farmer Stop (Ed. Complutense, 2010) y con sus obras ha obtenido, entre otros, los premios José Hierro de Relato y Poesía del Ayuntamiento de Santander, el Premio Internacional CRAPE de cuento o el Premio de Narrativa Ramón J. Sender, y ha sido finalista del XII Premio Mario Vargas Llosa NH de libro de relatos.

Como reconocimiento a su labor literaria fue becado por la Fundación Antonio Gala y por la Fundación Caixa Galicia, y disfrutó de una residencia en México DF patrocinada por el FONCA. Actualmente reside en Madrid.

Reviews

[Ioana · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you know me even a little from some of my reviews, you'll have noticed how passionately connected I feel to Russian and other Eastern European work and literature. Still, as much as Bulgakov and Petrushevskaya capture my mood and existential stance towards the world, there's a ... spirit, born of my native tongue (Romanian) that no Slavic language can touch completely.

There is just something so sonorous, so poetic, so voluble and ecstatic about Romance languages that, even in the midst of melancholy, renders a hopeful and fervently passionate tone. Which is I think why I've always been pulled to authors who write in Spanish (mostly, Latin American but also, in this case, a Spaniard)-even in translation, the musical quality of their work is preserved somewhat (although obviously not completely, which is why I really need to up my Spanish game already).

[Before preluding with all that, I was afraid perhaps my interpretation was purely personal; I am no linguist by far. An admittedly superficial search led me to this article on the Encyclopedia Britannica, "In comparison with Germanic languages, for instance, [Romance languages] seem musical and mellifluous—probably because of the relatively greater importance of vowels... On the whole, the vowels are clear and bell-like and articulation energetic and precise,... [this, along with intonation patterns] seem to some to denote excitability and emotional expressiveness."

That discussion just makes so much sense with my experience (take my name as a case in point about how much Romanians love vowels), and illuminated for me much of the ... romanticism of Spanish-language work that I identify with on a primal level. For, as American poet Wendell Holmes writes, "Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow"]

Ok, so the point? (this is the first review I am writing after the last day of school; behold my manic excitability manifesting as loosely-related tangents. Oh, how I love GR that way :))

The point: The Sky Over Lima is an evocatively poetic, lyrical retelling of the stranger-than-fiction true story of the two-year correspondence between Spanish Nobel laureate Juan Ramón Jímenez and two young poets (José Gálvez and Carlos Rodríguez) writing as an imaginary woman, Georgina Hübner. Even if there's not much of a story, the book is worth reading simply as an immersion in a lulling, comforting, beautiful world of words.

The plot: Eager to read Jímenez’s work, which was unavailable in Lima in the early twentieth century, José and Carlos appeal to Jímenez directly; imagining they will receive a more favorable response by signing their letters as a woman, they write Georgina into being.

Less a novel, this work is rather a gentle, beautifully crafted, humorous and incisively profound essay on love, identity and writing. There is not much of a plot—chapters meander leisurely through the young poets’ lives, and we learn a bit about their background here, a bit about their struggle to make Georgina come to life there, while being immersed in lovely elucidations about the craft or writing. In fact, The Sky Over Lima is literally a fictionalized account of the common trope, “letters to a young poet”—I would categorize it as a book proffering writing advice, in a “novel” format.

The following quote is perhaps one of my favorites, capturing as it does Gómez Bárcena's incisive analytical prowess that paints such vivid contours around his poetry: on their efforts to create Georgina (and on, interestingly, Germanic languages, such as English):

"To improve their efforts, they consult a book entitled Advice for a Young Novelist, a seven-hundred-page tome that is rather short on advice and long on commandments and whose target audience seems to be not a young writer but an elderly scholar. The author, one Johannes Schneider, repeatedly employs the words dissection, exhumation, analysis, and autopsy. One could not ask for greater honesty, as indeed the book undertakes with Prussian rigor the task of dismembering World Literature, until everything extraordinary and beautiful in that genre is writhing under its scalpel."

In addition to the theme of writing, The Sky Over Lima explores questions of love and identity; for, in writing and baring their soul to an anonymous ‘other’ through heartfelt letters, all three poet protagonists in this novel are essentially finding themselves, falling in love with their own realizations and words. In fact, "in real life", Ramón Jímenez acknowledged the deception that had been perpetrated on him, but still declared himself grateful for what it taught him about himself. For, after all,

"Love is a discourse, my friend, it’s a serial novel, a narrative, and if it’s not written in your head or on paper or wherever, it doesn’t exist, it remains only half done; it does not become a sensation that saw itself as an emotion."

Overall, I highly recommend this debut novel by award-winning Spanish author Juan Gómez Bárcena (who has also published an as-of-yet-untranslated-into-English collection of short stories), especially if you are a patient reader who enjoys beautiful writing and a resonant atmosphere. For me, this work felt a bit too leisurely, too lacking of a concrete drive to sustain my undivided attention. Still, I would absolutely read Juan Gómez Bárcena again and look forward to more of his works.

*I received a copy of this book from the publisher via Netgalley. All opinions are my own.

[rachelle (m00dreads - semi-hiatus) · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.25 ⭐

Criminally underrated. This book has 400 ratings on GR and I’m about to embark on a hopeless one-woman crusade to rectify that.

The Sky Over Lima is a fictionalized account of the very real correspondence between two aspiring poets and their revered Maestro, Nobel Laureate Juan Ramón Jímenez. But how else would they ensure the attention of such a prominent (male) figure if not by hiding behind the perfumed stationery and curlicue penmanship of a woman??

Stripped down to the colloquialisms of today, this book can be summed up in a single sentence: two Peruvian fanboys catfish their Spanish idol to get free merch.

What ensues is your early 20th-century stans playing at being artists, bewailing their painfully uninspired lives of wealth and prestige, until their demons inevitably come out crawling—clad, of course, in blood jewels.

So there you have it folks: yet another book on college boys fucking up someone’s life because they’re Bored, Rich, and Troubled! Not to be boorish but I need the algorithm to summon my fellow girlies from their candlelit corners to give this book more love, so I’m evoking some of GR/booksta’s favorite combos: dark academia!!! Lyrical writing!!

The language is arresting, as hypnotic as the gentle crash of waves on a shore. It’s romantic, heady—Bárcena knows how to seduce with his storytelling and the intoxicating lilt of his prose—but still, miraculously not overdone. It has precisely the kind of intimacy that would have waxed purple had it lacked the gravity to back its aesthetic. Bárcena’s Lima is lush, charged with the political tension engendered by the slow decline of aristocracy and the rapid rise of the nouveau riche. (This isn’t a historical epic of any kind though, so don’t expect detailed sketches of Peru in the 1900s. While there is enough context to lend depth to the characterization, the macro never supersedes the micro.) At the heart of this reconstructed city, Bárcena deftly dissects the connective tissue between art and identity.

My main gripe would have to be the kind of women that his tale paints. There’s a covert criticism here, that women of the era are only valued for their unwitting service as muses to either the whimsies or the genius of men. Carlos’ disillusionment with his ink and paper Georgina came at the cost of a flesh and blood woman who was never named. A woman whose desolate fate was at last entombed by the very forces that his precious manic dream girl fantasy sought to flee. But alas, so runs history: a boy grows into his father’s lapels and a woman is disrobed—of identity, agency, hope.

And there goes my second grievance. I had started rooting for Carlos, empathizing with him, and while I wanted him to come to his own, I wish it hadn’t been ... in such a backwards way. Can’t say the unhinged harlot in me didn’t find some sort of glee in his quasi-Jokerfication though hehe.

Anyway, if you need any more reason to read this book, there is a philanthropic rat (as in an actual rodent!!) cleverly used as a literary device to demonstrate the intricate lattice of all life. It’s the kind of book whose pages you’ll yearn to comb over and over again, feeling each strand on the pads of your fingers like it belonged to your very own manic pixie dream infatuation.

Also I think I’ve finally found my niche in translated historical fiction.

[Makis Dionis · Rating 4 out of 5]

Όσο λυρικό χρειάζεται, με όση πρόζα του πρέπει

[Alfredo Pagoto · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Desengáñese, amigo mío: el amor, tal y como usted lo entiende, lo ha inventado la literatura, lo mismo que Goethe les regaló el suicidio a los alemanes. No somos nosotros los que escribimos las novelas, sino las novelas las que nos escriben a nosotros..."

[Roger Brunyate · Rating 3 out of 5]

Metafiction for Beginners

This prizewinning debut novel by Spanish writer Juan Gómez Bárcena presents as a charming whimsy. Two rich young men in Lima in 1904 rent a garret in which to lead a fantasy life as bohemian poets. Unable to obtain the latest collection by their idol, the real Spanish poet and later Nobelist Juan Ramón Jiménez, they pretend to be a young female fan, whom they christen Georgina Huebner, and write to the master in Madrid begging a copy of his book. The volume duly arrives, and the two continue the correspondence in the young lady's name. The amazing thing is that the deception and the distant poet's response all appear to be true; Gómez Bárcena's contribution is to take us into the lives of the young Peruvians who deceived him.

It is an easy book to read in the sparkling translation by Andrea Rosenberg, but that alone would not have been enough to sustain it. Three things deepened the interest for me—until a fourth knocked me backwards, but more about that in a moment.

The first thing to intrigue me was that, in the most natural way, the book becomes a kind of metafiction. The two friends raise their horizons from forging a few fan letters to composing an entire novel, the romance of the real Juan Ramón and the fictional Georgina, including their own role as Pygmalions. That novel, presumably, is the book we are now reading. But a mere literary conceit, no matter how clever or how approachable, would still not have been enough. What really drew me in was learning about life in Lima in the period, and my increasing sympathy with one of the two young men.

The Lima we see in 1904 is a sharply divided world of rich and poor. There are old families whose fortunes are declining, and new rubber barons making their wealth on the backs of their indigenous laborers. There are dockworkers whose daily pay is not even enough for a loaf of bread, and prostitutes whose debts to their madams rise faster than anything they can earn on their backs. In the middle of all this is Carlos Rodríguez, the more sensitive of the two young men, a naive boy with a social conscience, trying to stand up to the macho expectations of his father, and to work out his feelings for the world around him. Georgina becomes real for him, and her image colors his relations equally with the society girls presented as marriage prospects and the young prostitute he visits weekly to pour out his soul.

Then came the ending. It is psychologically believable, I suppose, and Jiménez's response is a matter of history. In terms of the literary concept with which this all started, it is even elegant. But in terms of my deepening sympathy with Carlos, it came as a slap in the face.

[jeremy · Rating 3 out of 5]

a fictionalized account of literary catfishing at the turn of the 20th century, juan gómez bárcena's the sky over lima (cielo de lima) is a tragicomic coming-of-age romance infused with whisperings of political unrest. beginning in 1904, two young, aspiring peruvian poets, irked by their inability to secure for themselves a copy of juan ramón jiménez's newest collection in their home country, composed a letter to the spanish poet requesting that he send one overseas (himself only a twentysomething at the time; a half-century before winning the nobel prize) – but concealed their identities by pretending to be a young female admirer named georgina. the ruse was maintained for nearly two years, with dozens of letters exchanged across the atlantic.

gómez bárcena's prize-winning debut novel (following an as yet untranslated collection of short stories) is an entertaining, enjoyable tale. as much about the ongoing transatlantic subterfuge as it is the young characters' development, sexual awakening, and poetical aspirations, the sky over lima is amorous and whimsical, often delighting with flourishes of attractive prose and witty metafictional asides. jiménez would go on to pen a poem for his unrequited paramour and, while not mentioned in the novel, would also acknowledge the deception later in his career having learned that georgina had never, in fact, existed at all (but was apparently thankful for what the episode offered him nonetheless). the sky over lima, with such a rich story as its foundation, is a satisfying novel of possibility, passion, and poetry.

the twentieth century would be the death of verse, he added. who gives a damn about fripperies and bourgeois sentiment when the final battle of the class war is being waged all around them? only the wealthy experience that sort of emotion, those existential chasms and desponds, because when men have too much free time, when they do not employ their vital energy in demolishing the walls that divide them from their brothers, then all of that force is used to burrow into themselves, to grub away at themselves and finally concoct all those delicate, artificial emotions. enough looking within, he continued haughtily, we must look beyond ourselves, because in plantations and factories across the globe there are humble men dying, dying in the flesh, not like those pansies who feel like they're dying of emotions that, in reality, no cares about at all. and you can be sure this is only the beginning; now we write novels in order to speak about actions, but in time actions will speak for themselves. that is the real literature, i tell you: action, the force of events, not the words that explain those events. the true novel of the twentieth century will be written not in a garret but in the streets, amid the clamor of protests, assassination attempts, war, revolutions. and of that novel, let it be known, we are already writing the opening chapters.

*translated from the spanish by andrea rosenberg (lina meruane, juan pablo escobar, et al.)

[Bob H · Rating 4 out of 5]

In this haunting novel, two young men in Lima in 1904, of rich families, spoiled, with the leisure to be aspiring poets, try to elicit a book of poetry from the famous Spanish poet of their day. They impersonate a young, lovely woman, Georgina, and begin an exchange of letters. The novel touches on the society of their day, all the fault lines of gender, class, work, and the young men's separation from much of the squalor as they pursue this elegant deception. (Jose's family is old entitled wealth; Carlos' family wealth is built on inhumane Amazon rubber farming).

The complications begin as the letters return from Spain: they need to make Georgina consistent, believable, with emotions and a back-story. They begin, in essence, a novel, one in which they have to borrow character from their lives, their families' and friends' lives, one in which they become enmeshed. More characters enter this novel-in-a-novel (even a rat, with a taste for letters, that lives on the Argentina-to-Spain ship). Their friends become aware of the project and want to take part. And at some point the young men realize that the Maestro is becoming involved, that this novel needs resolution.

The prose is smooth, seems genuine and well-spoken in translation, with no false notes, and the novel evokes a society of a century and more ago in which the reader immerses. Strongly recommend.

[Patricia Aml · Rating 5 out of 5]

Novela fascinante en la que se mezclan tiempos, espacios y ficciones y que nace de un poema de Juan Ramón Jiménez, que a su vez es el cierre de la novela. Hasta llegar a él, el autor nos lleva por la Lima de principios de siglo de la mano de dos personajes, Carlos y José, perfectamente definidos y fiel reflejo de una burguesía déspota y perdida. Con ellos se van entrelazando otros, como el propio Juan Ramón, convertido en interlocutor de una mujer inventada por los dos jóvenes: Georgina. Si primero conocemos cómo se gesta la idea y cómo comienza la relación epistolar entre Georgina y Juan Ramón, pronto asistimos a la escritura de una novela “casi realista” en la que Carlos y José quieren plasmar esa relación epistolar. Este proceso de escritura es también el desencuentro entre ambos, la transformación de su amistad, su relación con las mujeres y el sexo, la evolución de la ciudad y de la sociedad limeña y, en definitiva, la conversión de los dos hombres en todo lo que se esperaba de ellos.

[Sana Abdulla · Rating 3 out of 5]

2 rich kids from Lima, desperate to communicate with their idol, a Spanish poet, play a prank on him. This is clear from the beginning of the book, which must have been beautifully written because it is beautifully translated.
But, nothing much happens for many, many pages, except reading about the rich and idle's angst.
This is a book to be savoured for its melancholy, slow paced style, but it left me waiting for a well rounded end, which it didn't provide.

[Lili Bammens · Rating 3 out of 5]

Aanvankelijk vond ik dit boek wel origineel, grappig en goed geschreven maar na een tijd zakte het wat in. Het was alleszins voor mij een stuk minder sterk dan "Kanada" van dezelfde auteur.
De roman is gebaseerd op werkelijk gebeurde feiten: twee Peruaanse studenten, liefhebbers van poëzie, sturen brieven naar de Spaanse auteur, dichter en latere winnaar van de Nobelprijs Literatuur Juan Ramon Jimenez. Zij ondertekenen de brieven met de naam Georgina Hübner, een fictieve jonge vrouw, in de hoop dat Jimenez van haar gecharmeerd raakt en een gedicht aan haar wijdt. Dat opzet lukt, zowel in de realiteit als in het boek.
Wat ik minder goed vond waren de verschillende zijpaden die bewandeld werden in de roman: huwelijkskandidaten voor de jonge studenten, een staking van het havenpersoneel waardoor de brieven tussen Spanje en Peru langer achter bleven en in het bijzonder de beschrijving van de stakingsleider die in het verhaal geen rol van betekenis speelt en aan wie toch verschillende bladzijdes besteed worden.
Toch heb ik het boek niet tegen mijn zin gelezen, maar aan "Kanada" kan het jammer genoeg niet tippen.

[Arjen · Rating 2 out of 5]

De auteur van dit boek had een ontzettend goed idee om een verhaal rondom op te bouwen: twee vrienden uit Lima starten een correspondentie met een beroemde Spaanse dichter en doen zich daarbij voor als een bevallige jongedame. In de hoop om gratis boeken van hem toegestuurd te krijgen en zodra dat gelukt is dat de dichter verliefd wordt op haar.

Maar het is een oersaai en bij vlagen vervelend boek. Het enige aardige aan het boek heb ik hierboven beschreven, want de wijze waarop de auteur het verhaal opbouwt is traag, weinig inspirerend en gewoon saai. De twee hoofdpersonen bedenken dit plan, krijgen ruzie, maken het weer goed. Dat is zo ongeveer de verhaallijn. Lardeer dat met wat rijkeluisperikelen, bordeelbezoek, cafébezoek en alcohol en dat is zo ongeveer het verhaal af.

Twee sterren.

[Robert Wechsler · Rating 4 out of 5]

Great summer reading of the literary sort. That is, it’s a pretty light, enjoyable, literarily-oriented work: a novel about creating a fictional character interacting with a writer who is external to the story (except that a few of his letters appear in it, and his letters affect the protagonists’ lives). It’s clever, features a wonderful third-person, somewhat omniscient narrator, and its twists save what appears at first to be a dead-end novel. The author’s decision to include very few letters was an excellent one. The translation works on every level.

[Elena Carmona · Rating 3 out of 5]

a tiempo antes de irme a limaaaa

[Vicent Law · Rating 5 out of 5]

¿Qué decir de Juan Gómez Bárcena? Uno de los autores más interesantes de nuestra moderna literatura. De la ciencia ficción y "lo fantástico" a esta obra sobrecogedora en su concepción y desarrollo.

Curiosamente, o más bien por falta de curiosidad, no conocía la historia de Juan Ramón respecto a nuestros queridos poetas adolecentes. Ha sido interesante descubirla a través de la cabeza de Bárcena y su obra.

No obstante, y como suele ser habitual en la buena literatura, la historia en sí misma no es tan relevante como el modo en que se trasmite. La novela, sin embargo, cuenta con ambas facetas dentro de sus bondades.

Pero, ¿qué es buena literatura? Podemos diseccionar una obra, al estilo de los Consejos para un joven novelista y centrarnos en la maravillosa estructura de la que está compuesta, en la verosimilitud de sus personajes y situaciones, en las descripciones, acertadas o no, demasiado prolongadas o escuetas... quizás excesivamente irreales dentro de la cabeza de un personaje, en un momento determinado. Podemos apreciar únicamente el trazo perfecto y colorido de una picelada y sorprendernos y arrodillarnos ante la técnica sublime del artista, en el conjunto de la obra.

Probablemente, eso sea literatura. Pero quizás una literatura cadavérica y fugaz. Una literatura que no palpita, pese a los esfuerzos de su creador... pese a la razón que ha forjado la idea. La eternidad no se alcanza en línea recta, sino que subyace en los recodos del camino, en las trabas de la existencia.

Y a la eternidad le gustan los universales humanos. Las inquietudes y los miedos que cada generación ha de superar en cualquier tiempo y época, son la base del arte, de la creación, de la propia inmunidad del alma, ante la sociedad de cualquier momento pasado, presente y futuro.

El Cielo de Lima es literatura, al menos bajo el punto de vista egoísta de un lector.

Además de ser en sí mismo una lección magistral de creación literaria, a través de las figuras de José, Carlos y el licenciado, cuenta con esa prosa de Bárcena, que genera imágenes tan potentes en las que el lector solo puede asentir y aceptar.

Son muchos los temas tratados en la novela: el ideal frente a "lo real", la creación y su influencia en el creador, en su entorno; la metaficción entre personajes, lectores y creaciones, lo social... que tan bien define Bárcena y que, lamentablemente, es uno de esos universales que nos acompañará hasta el final de los tiempos, maquillándose eternamente frente a espejos de papel.

Quizás, tenga razón Carlos al tornar una realidad cruel en la versión anhelada de una visión ideal. Es posible que podamos desfigurar los recuerdos hasta que se parezcan a aquello que necesitamos obtener. El problema es que, al contrario que nuestro aspirante a poeta, yo sí sé lo que significa: chcę iść do domu.

Sin duda, una obra en su conjunto magnífica.

[Heather Pearson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Set in Peru at the turn of the twentieth century, this is the fictionalized account of a love affair via letter. Spanish poet Juan Ramon Jimenez had fallen in love with Georgina, a young woman in Lima who wrote to him begging for a copy of his recent book of poetry that had not yet been published in her country. They subsequently carried on a correspondence for a few years during which he fell in love with her.

Unknown to Juan, it was actually two young men who collaborated to compose and send the letters of Georgina. It had started out innocently, as they did seek a copy of his book. For what ever reason, they continued with the ruse until it threatened to be exposed.

It was fascinating to read how the author proposed the reasons for why Jose and Carlos continued with this fakery. It felt so real, that it was possible it truly did occur in that manner. Some letters have survived the ravages of time and obviously led the author to create this captivating story. The rest, pure speculation...

I loved this book. It is a unique tale made even more appealing by it's historical accuracies. Jose and Carlos are young men at odds with the futures their fathers have decided for them. Instead, they fancy themselves to be poets, even though they are not published and it seemed they weren't destined to be. They both came from a life of privilege that allowed them the time to indulge in such whimsy as this. I wonder if they regretted their activity afterwards and if they ever tried to make amends for their actions.

This is a highly readable tale which effectively transported me to another time and lifestyle

[Sidney Weber · Rating 3 out of 5]

Cynical look at society

This book tells the story of two immature aristocrats who decide to play a practical joke to establish themselves in their own opinions. The narrator relates their progress from a completely cynical point of view with respect to themselves and their society. The action plays out pretty much as expected without much action, suspense, or character development, but the book is still intresting.

[Gerard Pèrez Fontova · Rating 5 out of 5]

Un canto al amor, a la literatura, a la poesía, a la juventud y a la realidad que es más cruda...

[Stacia · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a clever debut novel & a good one at that.

The Sky Over Lima is a unique historical fiction & metafiction mash-up. It's based on real life events surrounding Juan Ramón Jiménez (a Nobel Prize winning Spanish poet, 1881 to 1958) much earlier in his career. Around 1905, two (male) fans of his in Peru decide to write to Juan Ramón to ask for a copy of his most recent book since it's not available anywhere in Lima. But, they figure he won't answer them -- they're just louche college guys from wealthy families. They jokingly say that Juan Ramón would answer & send the book if a lovely young lady from Lima wrote him. And, thus, a correspondence is born, featuring "Georgina Hübner" of Lima writing to the esteemed poet in Spain.

That's the true part, I looked awhile online to verify &, indeed, these long-distance catfishing events happened. The online Cervantes Library has a couple of photos of a postcard that "Georgina" sent to Juan Ramón in 1904. Their correspondence lasted almost 2 years with Juan Ramón becoming ever more besotted with his Lima friend, even suggesting that he planned to travel to Peru to meet her. (Which obviously creates a conundrum since Georgina isn't real.)

The book itself fictionalizes the lives & motives of the two creators of Georgina -- José Gálvez and Carlos Rodríguez. (Here is the wikipedia page about José Gálvez Barrenechea irl & also a pdf that examines the historical events.) It's more than just the story of the correspondence, though. It really delves into writing, composition, structure, the arcs of writing literature as the months progress with the book sections being: A Comedy, A Love Story, & A Tragedy (which, of course, mirror the course of events both irl & in this particular novel). The book enters meta territory as it breaks both the third wall & the fourth wall, as well as including an unusual character (a rat in the cargo hold of the ship that carries the letters back & forth). It's both humorous & bittersweet.

I also had fun looking on Google maps for various places mentioned in Lima. I've never visited Lima irl or virtually so it was fun to "walk" the streets that are mentioned.

(Side note: Since it's set in 1905 in Lima, you can probably guess that women as characters don't fare so well, generally being presented as saints or whores, even though the fictional Georgina is also a central character; there's also incessant mocking of Carlos for his more feminine ways.)

Overall, though, I think it's a cool metafictional historical novel. (And now I'm contemplating reading some of Juan Ramón's poetry.)

Here's an excerpt from the beginning of the book.

[Jeroen Decuyper · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ik had meer verwacht van dit boek, met op de cover de veelbelovende lofzang "Een briljante debuutroman voor hart en hoofd. Betoverend geschreven." Het gegeven en het uitgangspunt van het verhaal intrigeerde me en dat was meteen ook de reden waarom ik het gekocht heb. Maar na een knappe inleiding gaat de vaart uit de roman, bijna tot aan de ontknoping van de correspondentie tussen de twee rijke rechtenstudenten Carlos en José aan de ene kant van de Atlantische Oceaan en de beroemde Spaanse dichter Juan Ramón Jiménez op het oude continent. De laatste veertig bladzijden was ik dan wel weer volledig mee.

Carlos en José schrijven - onder de naam van de fictieve Georgina Hübner - steeds intiemer wordende brieven aan de dichter in de hoop antwoord te krijgen, een gesigneerd exemplaar van zijn dichtbundel én een persoonlijk aan Georgina opgedragen gedicht. Eens de correspondentie op gang getrokken is, worden beide studenten met een aantal wezenlijke problemen geconfronteerd. Om die op te lossen zoeken ze hulp bij een professionele liefdesbrievenschrijver en een aantal eveneens welgestelde vrienden van op café.

En passant krijgt de lezer een portret van de Peruviaanse hoofdstad aan het begin van vorige eeuw - het boek vangt aan in het gezegende jaar 1904 -, inclusief de gapende kloof tussen rijk en arm, tussen gevestigde adel en nieuwe rijken en hoe de eerste sociale onlusten de kop opsteken in de haven. Door die onlusten en de daarmee gepaard gaande staking varen de schepen niet uit en wordt de correspondentie lange tijd onderbroken. Als 21ste eeuwse lezer die elk moment van de dag beschikt over mail, berichtjes en constant in contact kan blijven met alles en iedereen, is het even wennen aan deze mindset.

Maar zelfs in die andere mindset heeft het boek mij bijna nooit echt geraakt. Met als enige uitzondering een lange scène waarin ik toch even een Pools zinnetje door Deepl gehaald heb. Een zeldzaam lichtpunt.

[Kimberly · Rating 3 out of 5]

Never really felt immersed in the story. Two rich, one richer than the other, 20 something year old men who squander their time at college believing in the idea that their poets have a “clever” idea to write their favorite poet posing as an infatuated young woman in order to get things -books, poems, intimacy from this world renowned author. Set in Peru in the early 1900’s, this telling of the true story of two men’s interaction with Nobel laureate Juan Ramón Jiménez speaks of class, colonialism, privilege.

It’s clever in some spots. The narration seems to shift in a way, breaking the “4th wall” (if there is a such thing in literature) by addressing certain plot points acknowledging the reader as a participant in the telling of this story.

It’s a short book, less than 280 pages. I’m on page 67 thinking why do I care about what these two do next? I don’t. Too many other books to read.

Didn’t think I felt any kind of way about this book but apparently it does seem to annoy me personally. Read it for yourself maybe it’s just not my style.

[Klaas Roggeman · Rating 3 out of 5]

Een boek dat in mijn achting steeg na de extra info die ik erover kreeg in een plaatselijke boekenclub. Na het lezen had ik al gezien dat de schrijver Juan Ramon Jimenez echt bestaan heeft, maar blijkbaar is heel het verhaal op waargebeurde feiten gebaseerd: twee 2de rangs dichters uit Lima proberen via brieven, zogezegd gestuurd door een nichtje van een van hen, een beroemde Spaanse dichter zo ver te krijgen dat hij een bundel opstuurt en een gedicht aan haar te wijden. Hoe Barcéna dat vertelt, lijkt wel goed in elkaar te zitten. Eigenlijk zal dat pas blijken na een tweede lezing, maar daarvoor wenken er te veel ongelezen boeken.

[Ellie · Rating 2 out of 5]

My reading resolution this year is to work through my oldest book purchases so I can figure out if they are worth moving for the third time in four years. This book does not make the cut.

[Lori · Rating 4 out of 5]

El cielo de Lima (translated by Andrea Rosenberg) explores how text and storytelling form the basis of how we experience and perceive the world. It is Lima in the year 1904, and a pair of dissolute young aristocrats (Jose and Carlos) who fancy themselves poets are catfishing a famous Spanish bard (Juan Ramon Jimenez) not much older than them by posing as a pretty girl. What began as simply a humorous attempt to acquire a signed book turns into a year-long challenge to win Jimenez's heart and subsequently inspire a great love poem. The omniscient narrator anachronistically references Foucalt, Lacan, and Derrida as philosophers of the concept that "[w]e don't write novels; novels write us," whom Carlos would have cited if he lived in another time. Jimenez will never meet "Georgina," of course - she is simply a fiction created by two men based on stereotypes of feminine behavior, arising from both patriarchy (women in this time and place seem to only exist for men as whores and wives) and the cliches of romance novels. But these images are potent enough to create genuine emotion. "That Petrarch had to have a woman die on him, and Dante a girl, and Catullus a young man, so that a great poem could be written," Carlos observes to himself. Literature has already foretold how this must end, and therefore how to manipulate another human being to a desired outcome. El cielo de Lima is not just standard historical fiction but intelligent postmodernism.

[Travis · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bárcena has delivers wonderous a wonderous world through voice, and The Sky Over Lima evinces the attention to detail that reminds me of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The writer paints the past, present, and future on the same canvas, adding to the novel’s big idea that reality is created and that “everyone’s lives are literature.”

As the story unfolds, the narrator explains how the story is being told, how the characters or the scene is being constructed by offering a running commentary of what is happening and why. It is a meditation on writing along with an ode to literature embroidered with meta-observations about the structure of novels. For example: during the lull in the rising action, just as the reader begins to wonder if it’s time for a snack or for bedtime, Bárcena writes, “the plot must seem to falter for a moment—the beginning of the second act—passing through a low spot or a valley, a brief plateau of boredom, and then that something happens.”

Anyone who has ever shed tears over a poem or been inspired to write and be more insightful doing it only to be let down because their talent could not put the ideas into words will read this novel and come away feeling understood. And I can think of no better reason to read than that.

[Kasa Cotugno · Rating 4 out of 5]

In 1904 Lima Peru, two would be poets, sons of privilege and delusion, develop a long distance relationship with an actual Spanish poet, Juan Ramon Jimenez. Jimenez, who later in life wins the nobel prize, believes he has an admirer in the form of a lovely young woman, not two dilettantes, across the ocean. Struggling over their letters, Jose and Carlos consult a professor known for creating love letters as they believe Jimenez wouldn't waste time if he knew his correspondents were two young men. (Oddly, this is the third novel in as many months I've read that have employed this device of "public scriveners," each in a different time, on a different continent.)

There is some beautiful writing here ("This beautiful view from the sky over lima, always Misty, changeable, nurturing of inventions and fantasies... From afar it looks like the grid of a beehive. But if you focus your gaze a little, its geometry unravels into life.") And the eye in the sky narration, telescoping into the past and future, provides for haunting imagery. Unusual and beautiful. Recommended.

[Elise · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Sky Over Lima was a delightful book! This beautifully written and well-researched historical novel has memorable and well developed characters that will stay with me. I enjoyed returning to the 1904 Lima, Peru that formed the story's backdrop. Moreover, Barcena intellectually engages issues of authorship and character development without being pretentiously self-reflexive in the way many post-modern works of fiction can be because The Sky Over Lima was so much more than an intellectual exercise. At it's heart, it is wise and emotionally honest, taking up the themes of ageing in a rapidly changing world, the quest for immortality, and the attempt to be true to ourselves through it all. This one is a real treat and a page turner. I highly recommend it.

[Janelle · Rating 4 out of 5]

Two rich teenagers from different backgrounds fancy themselves poets. Their obsession with Spanish poet leads them to create a woman to correspond with him which ends up with unintended consequences for them both as well as their friendship in early 20th century Lima.

[Barbara · Rating 3 out of 5]

A metaphysical novel about a poem and a novel and a poem and a novel and a poem and a novel and a...with some gender-bending and class struggle and political history thrown in. It's hard to explain, but I did appreciate it.

[Debbie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting to explore a new country (Peru) in my foreign reading challenge, but in some parts of this novel, I felt I almost grasped its true story, but didn't quite get it.

[Carlos Manzano · Rating 5 out of 5]

La imprevisible aventura de escribir una novela, de cómo hacerlo sin traicionarse demasiado, de cómo situarse ante la espinosa tarea de convertir la realidad, o si se prefiere la realidad emocional, o la realidad accesible, en el fondo siempre inaprensible e irreductible, en palabras concretas, en signos cuyo valor viene definido de antemano para que pueda ser desencriptado por terceros; de cómo esa novela funciona en las mentes de quien la escribe y de quien la recibe, el proceso irracional por el que una ficción acaba entrelazándose con la realidad más apremiante sin que ninguna de las dos ―ficción y realidad― desentone demasiado o acabe descubriéndose falsa; la necesidad que todavía hoy nos persigue de contarnos lo que nos sucede todos los días, lo que ya sabemos aunque no seamos conscientes, lo que ignoramos aunque lo vivamos a diario; el valor imprescindible de la mentira como la representación más pura de la verdad… Cualquiera de estas proposiciones podría ser, acaso, alguno de los ejes sobre los que se sustenta la magnífica “El cielo de Lima”, novela de Juan Gómez Bárcena publicada originariamente en 2014 (y reconocida con el Premio Ojo Crítico) y que en 2023 ha sido reeditada por Seix Barral. Todo dependerá, imagino, de los estímulos que cada lector encuentre en la lectura para dejarse arrastrar por el exuberante bosque de palabras con que el escritor cántabro construye la historia, para descodificar de una manera u otra el sentido que alberga, convirtiendo el mero acto de leer en uno de los placeres más extenuantes y gozosos que puedan existir, al menos para quienes amamos la literatura.

“El cielo de Lima” parte de un hecho real: la llamémosle broma ―aunque en origen no lo fuera― que dos poetas peruanos quisieron gastar a Juan Ramón Jiménez haciéndose pasar por una joven interesada en su obra, con la que el poeta mantendría una sustanciosa relación epistolar y que incluso inspiraría uno de sus poemas. Pero más allá de eso, que en el fondo no deja de ser la excusa que da origen a todo lo demás, la novela bucea constantemente en la búsqueda perpetua que los dos jóvenes y frustrados poetas limeños inician para encontrar el tono adecuado, la palabra precisa o la imagen más apropiada para que esa ficción se erija no solo en un referente verosímil para Juan Ramón, sino sobre todo para ellos mismos.

A estas alturas, con novelas como “Kanadá”, “Ni siquiera los muertos” o “Lo demás es aire” a sus espaldas, es innecesario destacar la extraordinaria calidad de la prosa de Gómez Bárcena, el perfecto manejo del idioma del que hace gala siempre y la exquisita contención narrativa que impregna cada uno sus párrafos, lo cual lo sitúa sin la menor duda en la cúspide literaria nacional (sea cual sea el volumen que se le quiera dar a esa cúspide). Pero además de eso, “El cielo de Lima” está escrita con un notable sentido del humor, producto de una mirada que aguijonea con tiento (mirada que entremezcla ternura, ironía, caricatura, impostura y también cierto punto de crueldad, de otro modo no sería humana) en la nunca asumida fragilidad de los personajes, subrayando esa parte cómica, por no decir patética, que nunca deja de acompañarnos a lo largo de la vida.

“Aquel cajón de tesoros es la envidia de su círculo de amigos. Aunque llamarlos amigos, llamarlos incluso círculo, tal vez sea exagerar. No son amigos, porque antes que amigos son poetas; una profesión donde las buenas intenciones escasean tanto como los buenos poemas”.

En ese sentido, como sucede con las grandes novelas, podría decirse que “El cielo de Lima” habla de todo, que no se circunscribe a una idea concreta, porque más allá de las peripecias de sus dos protagonistas, Carlos y José, pulula por sus páginas un magnífico elenco de secundarios (podría decirse que son los secundarios los verdaderos protagonistas del libro, no tomados uno a uno, sino en su conjunto) que condicionan y determinan incluso la forma, las hechuras de esa novela indeterminada y volátil que se va construyendo poco a poco en la medida en que sus vidas se entrecruzan y sus ansias, sus deseos, sus temores y sus sueños se retroalimentan, inmersos en el propósito de alcanzar algo que probablemente ninguno de ellos sepa con seguridad qué es ni para qué lo pretenden.

“El cielo de Lima” es de esos libros de los que me cuesta horrores escribir un comentario, porque por mucho empeño que ponga en ello nunca pasaré de pergeñar una torpe reducción (ni siquiera un resumen) de todos los hallazgos que contiene la novela. Gómez Bárcena es un escritor concienzudo y brillante, que sabe que su mundo es la palabra, y con ella el universo de percepciones y afectos a que puede dar lugar, y que desde luego no se agota en la lectura como tal (ni siquiera en la relectura). Por ello solo puedo invitar a quien guste de una literatura que se cuestiona y se interroga a sí misma a adentrarse en esta estupenda novela y, si todavía no lo ha leído, a penetrar en el universo literario de Juan Gómez Bárcena, una de las voces más destacables de la narrativa española actual.