How to Order the Universe

by María José Ferrada, Elizabeth Bryer (Translator)

For seven-year-old M, the world is guided by a firm set of principles, based on her father D’s life as a traveling salesman. Enchanted by her father’s trade, M convinces him to take her along on his routes, selling hardware supplies against the backdrop of Pinochet-era Chile. As father and daughter trek from town to town in their old Renault, M’s memories and thoughts become tied to a language of rural commerce, philosophy, the cosmos, hardware products, and ghosts. M, in her innocence, barely notices the rising tensions and precarious nature of their work until she and her father connect with an enigmatic photographer, E, whose presence threatens to upend the unusual life they’ve created.

María José Ferrada expertly captures a vanishing way of life and a father-daughter relationship on the brink of irreversible change. At once nostalgic, dangerous, sharply funny, and full of delight and wonder, How to Order the Universe is a richly imaginative debut and a rare work of magic and originality.

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Coming Of Age, Literary Fiction, Spanish Literature, Novella, Young Adult

170 pages, Hardcover

First published February 1, 2017

About the author

María José Ferrada is the author of Mexique: A Refugee Story from the Spanish Civil War. She is a recipient of the Municipal Prize of Literature of Santiago, as well as the Academy Award from the Chilean Academy of Language. María currently works as the children's editor of Chilean Memory, a digital resource center of the National Library of Chile.

Reviews

[s.penkevich [hiatus-will return-miss you all] · Rating 5 out of 5]

‘Every life has its own moon landing.’

It’s interesting to consider how our parent’s occupations often color our understanding of the world at an early age. My father designed car engines and my childhood thoughts on the workings of life had the atmosphere of machinery and grease. I wonder what impressions I am passing onto my own children who are growing up in a bookstore and library as if they were an extension of our own house. Such is the case for M, the young narrator of How to Order the Universe by María José Ferrada and translated by Elizabeth Bryer, who spends her childhood selling Kramp tools with her travelling salesman father, D, often skipping school to do so. This intimate and charming story of a father and daughter becomes a story of Chile in the 1970s and the ways life can take an abrupt and violent turn in the midst of political upheaval. Quirky and adorable with a beautifully beguiling narrator trying to make sense of the world around her, How to Order the Universe is an profound one-sitting-read gem.

Child narrators can be hit-or-miss, but Ferrada pulls this off with captivating grace. Told as a reflection back upon her childhood, M’s narration only provides the scope of what her child-self was able to understand and the unspoken often looms louder than the words on the page. This technique also avoids having to couch everything the way a 10 year old would authentically write, a pitfall that even the precocious-child trick doesn’t always achieve--though M would likely be labeled precocious anyways--while still being able to dip into child-like charm, innocence and diction for effect. If this is autofiction or not is unclear but the hinted possibility gives it a weightier sense that works well and the lack of names (M, D, the mysterious E or the other salesman S) only builds the impression that this is a true story and names are redacted for what becomes obvious political necessity.

‘While D was nothing special as a father, he made an excellent employer.’

The first half of the novel is so sweet and idyllic, following M on her trips with her father as she gets an ‘alternative education’ in life. Her father sells tools for a company called Kramp and is quite proud to present the positive of Kramp tools, so much of M’s impressions and abstract understandings on life revolve around hardware store aesthetics. Stars look like tacks in the sky and her idea of god is one that is The Great Carpenter--a working-class image of god in keeping with the humble beginnings of Jesus. Her world revolves around the life of salesmen, spending her lunches in the cafes and bars frequented by salesmen in each town they travel. There is a love between father and daughter that transcends simple family structure, but one of an even partnership in life that gives M a great sense of maturity, self-esteem and self-reliance. She is also aware of the power she can have over a situation, especially learning at a young age that her ‘on-the-brink-of-tears’ gaze can be a secret weapon in winning over potential clients.

I spent a chunk of my late 20s as a travelling delivery driver for a coffee company, so idyllic renderings of life on the road has always really worked for me and sifts out the positive memories and impressions from that time away from all the negatives that had sometimes clouded my joy in the moment. Books like this make me proud of my affinity with drivers and delivery workers. Here we get to witness the quirks of travelling salesmen and the way they self-mythologize themselves on their travels, their stories growing into legends as they further market themselves as much as their own products.

‘E was a secondary character in our lives,’ M says, ‘and we were secondary characters in a larger story.’ The story begins to take on the taintings of a struggle going on just beyond M’s frame of reference on life when her father begins to hang out with his friend E--a traveling cinema man who does photography on the side (with a connection to foreign newspapers, M once overhears). Something about E connects to M’s mostly absent mother and her abject sadness, for the mother begins crying the first time E comes to their house. For M, her mother’s lack of presence in her life isn’t foretelling of some great tragedy, but merely a convenience that allows her to live her life on the road with her father.

The idyllic nature of the novel comes to an abrupt end and everything is suddenly scattered. M can only half understand it, though the reader will follow a great deal more particularly with any knowledge of the violent Pinochet regime in Chile and the US-backed coups across South America. Her lack of understanding makes everything so much more heart wrenching. M often uses personal terminology for emotions in her life, much like the way children often have made up terms for things. There is the ‘black-hole feeling’ (there is a space theme to much of the metaphors in this book) which is ‘a sadness that, even though you feel it, doesn’t belong to you,’ but even more heartbreaking is when an event occurs that releases ‘lucky beetles’ from a barrage of black-holes being shot into someone in front of her:

‘”lucky beetles” are not a species, but an insect that alights in the exact spot where life took a different course… It’s a fraction of a second so small that only an insect can pass through it. An insect that, when it appears, parts life in two.’

There is something akin to the structure of the film Life is Beautiful going on in this book, where the lighthearted comedy of the first half juxtaposed with the tragedy of the latter half gives each a stronger emotional pull. The narrative quickly speeds up over a few years with the advancement of M’s age coming more quickly to emphasize the way she emotionally ages due to the very adult situations befalling her. M is taken away from her father by her mother for his involvement with what happens to E, she learns the truth of her mother’s sadness, and more. The world has collapsed around M and she must find the strength to push on with the innocence of her childhood dramatically torn from her by events beyond her control.

‘I remember him saying, so many times, that it was improbable that a house constructed from 80 percent Kramp products would collapse in the event of an earthquake or a tornado, and realized that mine was one of the unfortunate cases that fell within the improbability.
For the earthquake had come, the feared tornado, and my construction, made from 95 percent Kramp products, was now a pile of sticks.’

The novel becomes a tear-jerker with her father pretending to sell tools that no longer exist just to keep the dream alive for M when she visits, salesmen all carrying guns in case they decide they’ve had enough of life...it gets bleak. It becomes the story of Chile and the fallout from the coup, something that still has residue on the nation to the present when massive protests were breaking out in 2019 and eventually the people voted to rewrite their Constitution.

This is such a lovely little novella and it destroyed me in the best way. The Tin House publishing edition is really nice, though it only contains a small space of text on each page, making a 170pg book out of what would otherwise have been probably 90. I was also very impressed her next book to be translated into English by Bryer, How to Turn Into a Bird, which I reviewed here. This is heartwarming and heartbreaking, showing both the fun and fragility of life seen through the eyes of a delightful young girl. It can be read in a single sitting, which I did and felt the whole spectrum of emotions pass through me in a really redeeming and refreshing way. Finishing the book feels like the end of a good cry, one you know you really needed. While this is a quick read, it is definitely one that will stick with you.

4.75/5

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

My father drove me to - and picked me up from - school, almost every weekday from the ages of five to sixteen.

He didn’t know how to talk to me, so there was a great deal of silence and AM talk radio. But every day on our way home, he’d stop at 7-Eleven and tell me to pick a treat: Slurpee, loaded nachos, you name it.

He couldn’t connect to me on an emotional level, but dad was steady, and he made sure I had what I needed (a ride) and a little something extra, to make life sparkle (a sprinkle donut… duh!).

This stayed on my mind as I read How to Order the Universe, the story of a brief, two-year window in which M accompanies her traveling salesman of a father on day trips to nearby territories. There’s a way they fit together - not warm and fuzzy, but stable - that I relate to. There’s also this pervasive… silence. A widening void of communication, a growing amassment of things left unsaid, which is so pronounced it becomes a central character in the story. I relate to that, too. And over the course of this novella, I felt alternately tender (for what M & D shared) and sad (for what they didn’t).

Our parents are human. They do their best, which is probably at least a little better than their own parents did. I guess that’s enough. I guess… that’s life.



Book/Song Pairing (This one’s for you, Daddy): Bloom (Paper Kites)

[Foz ☀️ · Rating 3 out of 5]

"تركني أبي في المحطة التي قد وصلت إليها صبيحة ذلك اليوم. ثم ودّع بعضنا بعضاً وكلانا يعرف أننا لن نلتقي مرة أخرى." نوفيلا رقيقة ولأنها "الضوء آخر المساء" فأنصح بقراءتها في المساء ويُستحسن على ضوء القمر تحديداً🌕🌛شكراً مارك جمال.

[Repix Pix · Rating 4 out of 5]

Como un cafetito solo, lo bebes casi de un trago y lo paladeas durante largo rato.

[بثينة العيسى · Rating 4 out of 5]

هذه رواية مكتوبة بالظل وحده.

[Paula Mota]

DNF@20%

#outubrohispanoamericano

No instante em que viu Neil Armstrong dar o primeiro passo na Lua, D pensou que, com a determinação e roupa adequada, tudo era possível.

Queria muito gostar desta novela e, assim, encontrar mais uma escritora chilena do meu agrado, e a prova disso é que tentei lê-la na versão PT-BR, que foi a que primeiro encontrei e, agora, na versão portuguesa editada por uma nova chancela, a Questão Pentagonal, com curadoria e tradução de Afonso Cruz.
Começando desde já pela minha irritação com isto dos escritores virarem tradutores, logo na página 14, “vendedor de plásticos chineses” passou a “vendedor de plásticos chinês”. Vai tudo dar ao mesmo, não se incomodem. Avançando, que não me pagam para isto…
María José Ferrada é, antes de mais, escritora de livros infantis, daí que não seja surpresa que esta obra seja contada do ponto de vista de uma criança, precoce, como ela mesmo admite, que de vez em quando saca do seu cigarrinho.
Kramp é a marca de ferramentas que o pai, D, da narradora, M, vende como caixeiro-viajante, até que a sua vida muda quando conhece o fotógrafo E. É mais uma questão de gosto, mas dar iniciais em vez de nomes às personagens parece-me sempre uma opção preguiçosa e confunde-me, ainda que aqui deduza que haja pessoas reais por trás delas.
“Kramp” é um livro demasiado metafórico, desde as ferramentas e a construção como alegoria do Chile sob a ditadura de Pinochet…

Era improvável, e isso D repetia a si mesmo olhando-se ao espelho, que uma casa construída com 80% de produto Kramp desmoronasse em caso de terremoto ou tornado.

…até aos sofismas e aforismos em catadupa, muito ao jeito das obras do próprio Afonso Cruz, que nesse sentido pode ser aliciante para os fãs do autor português, mas que para mim se revela cansativo e artificioso.

[Drew · Rating 5 out of 5]

Absolutely charming little book. You'll read it in a single sitting, the pages being about as much white space as they are text -- but somehow it never feels *slight* or lacking. It's the story of a young girl enamored of her father's life as a traveling salesman, and the way that working with him helps her understand the world around her. It's sweet for much of the time, but you can feel it barreling towards something bad and when it comes, it comes like a gasp.
Just terrific. Worth reading aloud, too, if you're into that kind of thing.

[Luciano Bernaroli · Rating 4 out of 5]

Racconto di crescita di una fantastica bambina che diventa ragazzina nel lungo viaggio della vita di bambina in compagnia del padre, commesso viaggiatore per la ditta di ferramenta Kramp, nascosta da una madre assente e invisibile e dalla scuola che frequenterà un giorno sì e tre no. Ma di una madre e di una scuola non avrà bisogno la piccola, perché a insegnarle la vita ci penseranno il padre e il suo lavoro, il catalogo di prodotti Kramp, i colleghi del padre.
È una storia assurdamente folgorante, coinvolgente e che tocca tantissimi argomenti in poco più di 100 pagine. Veloce e netta come un fulmine ti spacca il cervello, ogni pagina un punto di riflessione, per ogni frase quasi ci sarebbe da scriverne un libro a parte.
Con una narrazione serrata ma rilassata l'autrice ci accompagna in quelli che sono i momenti che una bambina passerà a crescere in modo parallelo alla vita che avrebbe dovuto vivere. E con poche parole la vita di una famiglia, anzi, di più di una.
Lascia assolutamente esterrefatti il finale, che non anticiperò nemmeno sul blog, dove avrete un pensiero più esteso di quello che è il mio parere.
Buona lettura, consigliata a tutti.

[Álvaro Curia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Acredito ter lido um dos melhores do ano. Vontade de dar meia volta ao livro e começar de novo. Recomendo sem qualquer hesitação nem reserva! Editado em português pela Questão Pentagonal, uma chancela com curadoria de Afonso Cruz.

[Betsy Robinson · Rating 5 out of 5]

Stunning.

I am the daughter of a salesman and a writer. If you read this book, perhaps it’ll make sense to you that I cannot talk about all the heartstrings this little book plucked. I suggest you read Phyllis Mann’s review.

After a Day ... and Night ... of Contemplation
Last night's dreams threw me back to my childhood stuff, and I credit this book with that. They were actually good dreams, in that they resolved some things.

Since they left me feeling more verbal, I thought I would add to my review: Perhaps it is a given that kids who grow up feral--without guidance from parents, or at least sane guidance, as is the case with the protagonist of this gorgeous little book--they spend the rest of their lives in one form or another trying to figure out the rules. Protagonist M, who writes this book from the perspective of a woman, telling the story of her childhood, does this by forming order out of chaos and nearly always fooling herself into believing she's in charge.

I realized I've written two novels that take very different approaches to this problem (Plan Z by Leslie Kove and The Last Will & Testament of Zelda McFigg). And so perhaps that's why I relate so intensely to this story. I wonder if people who grew up in stable families deal with this: trying to learn how life/people work, trying to formulate rules and order. I love what Maria Jose Ferrada did in this book. It is sparse writing that cuts to the emotional bone.

[Nadine in California · Rating 4 out of 5]

The publisher description does a good job with the story and themes, but leaves out the fable-like charm of the prose. The narrator, M, is a practical 7 year old, as remembered by her adult self. M learns about human nature on the road with her father, D, selling Kramp Hardware from town to town. Whether in the car, or during their shared coffee and cigarette breaks between sales calls, M is always reflecting on life and the universe. As she puts it:

“What I’m trying to say is that every person tries to explain the inner workings of things with whatever is at hand. I, at seven years of age, had reached out my hand and had grasped a Kramp catalogue.”

M becomes a successful shill in D’s sales calls, but doesn't let it go to her head:

"... I knew that, in the sales society, I was not yet considered a true samurai, despite my strong performance. I was a tiny samurai, defending a tiny castle, capable of committing a tiny hara-kiri. Nothing more, but nothing less either.”

M often waxes philosophical in simple and charming ways:

“The drives I most liked were the drives home. And it wasn’t because home was at the end of the road, but because the late-afternoon light simplified everything. At that time of day, the world looked like a scale model I’d seen in one of the many hardware stories we visited. Someone had cut out the trees and set them down along the straight line that out of convention we called a road, someone had whittled a house and put it there (had used steel shears and a gouge). And, following that logic, which the light prompted me to do, someone had fashioned us and put us here. Great Carpenter, I whispered, as if aiming to irritate someone who was a little deaf.”

This short book is a lovely way to spend a few hours.

[Rincey · Rating 3 out of 5]

Probably closer to 3.5 stars. A lovely little father-daughter novella that was perfect for Women in Translation month

Watch my full thoughts in my August wrap up: https://youtu.be/R0kYGbjNVnM

[Come Musica · Rating 4 out of 5]

La protagonista di questo romanzo breve, ambientato in Cile, durante la dittatura di Pinochet, è una bambina di sette anni, M, che anziché andare a scuola, con il consenso della madre, accompagna il padre D in giro a vendere oggetti di ferramenta.

D è un padre un po' particolare, che ha l'abitudine a classificare tutto come se fossero appunto gli oggetti della sua valigetta di articoli di ferramenta. E così gli avvenimenti della vita, per lui, si classificano "in due categorie: quelli probabili e quelli improbabili.". Questa ristretta catalogazione la arricchisce poi con un'altra sottocategoria: "Quando uscirono dall’anagrafe, D chiese alla donna di aspettarlo un momento e andò a cercare un tovagliolino su cui annotò ciò che era appena successo (il suo matrimonio) in una sottocategoria della classificazione delle cose che battezzò “avvenimenti davvero improbabili (tutti quei fenomeni che ci fanno pensare all’esistenza di una qualche specie di dio)”."

D insegna a sua figlia a guardare il mondo come somma di più parti, unite da connettori: "qualsiasi edificio, perfino il più grande del mondo, è tenuto in piedi da una struttura unita da viti. Il che equivale a dire che: 1. Le cose grandi e piccole si completano. 2. Una sola vite può causare la fine del mondo, se viene messa male. Quell’edificio, che ora crolla rovinosamente, ne abbatterà un altro, e quest’ultimo, per un terribile effetto domino, abbatterà l’edificio accanto. E via così fino a radere al suolo la città, le nazioni e la civiltà. Il funzionamento degli ecosistemi, la legge di causa-effetto, la relatività, “tutto si può capire guardando nei cassetti di un ferramenta”, aveva detto D."

M, con gli occhi di un'attenta osservatrice, impara che: "Nei negozi di paese non c’era disordine, ma un ordine dinamico. Non c’era bisogno di essere tanto furbi per comprendere la loro vera natura: i negozi di paese erano sistemi protoanarchici."

Questo mondo fiabesco, fatto di viti e di bulloni, che caratterizza l'infanzia di M, subisce un brusco arresto quando D sparisce di casa e madre e figlia decidono di cambiare città: "Lì accanto, io lasciai una busta con i soldi risparmiati nel breve corso del mio lavoro remunerato, e una lettera che diceva: “Ti voglio bene. PS: I soldi sono in prestito.”."

Madre e figlia scappano via, lontane da D, lontane dai fantasmi: "Viaggiammo per una notte intera a bordo di un autobus che ci portò, a me e a mia madre, sufficientemente lontano. Lontano da D. Lontano dai prodotti Kramp. Lontano dai fantasmi. E la lista di allontanamenti mi colpì nel profondo."

E in quel momento ci fu un doloroso CRAC: "I casi erano due: A.Che la precarietà ci avesse sempre accompagnati e io non me ne fossi accorta. B.Che qualcosa fosse cambiato. In ogni modo, il mio ricordo d’infanzia si spezzò in due: crac. E odiai il Grande Falegname, non tanto per la realtà dei fatti, ma per quella rivelazione che mi avvolgeva in uno sgradevole, e fino ad allora inedito, pudore: lo sguardo degli altri. Lo sapevano? Notavano la nostra precarietà?"

M cresce e alla fine si accorge che quei cataloghi legati all'infanzia non hanno più ragione di esistere: "Eravamo stati profondamente legati da un catalogo di articoli di ferramenta: chiodi, martelli, spioncini, viti. Ma quel catalogo non esisteva più. Le cose procedevano secondo un meccanismo che non potevamo fermare."

Alla fiaba, subentra la realtà e non è più tempo di guardarsi indietro.
È tempo di guardare avanti, con in bocca l'amaro delle cose che furono e che non possono più essere.

Una storia delicata che fa riflettere.

[Salembrocolilectora · Rating 2 out of 5]

Este es uno de esos libros con los que por más que me esfuerce, no logro enganchar. Una pena, porque se veía interesante y la portada es hermosa.

Hubo una frase que me encantó por lo simple y cierta que dice la protagonista:

El primer año de vida supe, por ejemplo, que hay algo que se llama día, algo que se llama noche y que todo lo que pasa en una vida cabe dentro de una de esas dos categorías.

[Tea Jovanović · Rating 4 out of 5]

Awarded Chilean book, coming of age novel... for those who love Alejandro Palomas' novel "Son" :) Author to watch... (recommended to me by Alejandro Palomas) :)

[Javier Andrés · Rating 5 out of 5]

Quiero leer todo lo de María José Ferrada.

[Kokelector · Rating 5 out of 5]

Adentrarse en una historia de la cual no esperas mucho y que esta te vuele la cabeza, considero que el mejor argumento para recomendar un libro; y así lo haría con este. Una niña de 8 años comienza acompañar a su padre,vendedor ambulante de materiales ferreteros. Por allí conoce la rutina, arman un mundo distinto, donde la percepción del espacio tiempo se verá trastocada por una realidad efímera que avanza a medida que logran vender sus productos. Como dos personajes que se concentran en avanzar despacio para no desparecer del todo. Para ir aglutinando una historia paralela a una historia mucho mayor, de la dictadura en Chile que se cuela por esas rendijas sin ser vista. Es un relato que recuerda la pluma de Rivera Letelier, pero contada con la maestría de los recuerdos de una niña que arma su mundo para intentar darle una explicación. Es una recomendación a pensar que las buenas historias siempre estarán allí para ser leídas.

(...) “Durante lo que duró ese abrazo fingí ser la hermana que él nunca conocería. Yo fingí, el niño fingió, S fingía: el mundo era un teatro rídiculo.” “A mis casi ocho años había descubierto que D no era un gran padre, pero era un excelente empleador.” “Todos los pueblos son iguales: unos malditos pueblos de mierda.” “D fue a tomar un café y anotó en una servilleta: toda vida tiene su alunizaje.” (...)

Acá puedes encontrar el libro.

[jeremy · Rating 4 out of 5]

a coming-of-age tale narrated by a precocious child and set during the pinochet regime, maría josé ferrada's how to order the universe (kramp) is a charming work of innocence, curiosity, and the inevitable stripping of illusions. ferrada's tale, slight only in length, captures almost effortlessly the insatiable wonder of childhood and the reckoning/reconciling with the adult world that arrives ever too soon. the chilean author's debut is thought-provoking and subtle, yet resounding in its effect. too, ferrada's young narrator, m, is an absolute delight, smart, funny, and crafty as she is.

billions of years before, on that same night, the big bang had taken place, and from then on everything drew apart, and continued to draw apart, irretrievably.

*translated from the spanish by elizabeth bryer (salazar jiménez, sainz borgo, lun, et al.)

[City ReadersMag · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ölüler her yerdeydi ama onları, aynı acılardan geçenler dışında kimse göremezdi.
Yedi yaşındaki M, babası D’yle birlikte köy köy, kasaba kasaba dolaşarak Kramp kataloğundan ürünler satarlar. Bu yolculuklarında M, ticaretin inceliklerini öğrenirken hayatın derin ve karanlık yüzüyle de tanışır. Kitap, sadece bir baba - kız ilişkisini anlatmaz, aynı zamanda Şili’nin sancılı geçmişini ve toplumsal yaralarını da incelikle ele alır.
Sevgili Ferrada, bir çocuğun gözünden geçmişin hayaletlerini, toplumsal acıları, sırlarını ve travmaları akıcı bir dille anlatır. Sade görünen bir hikayenin arkasında Pinochet döneminin karanlık ve acımasız yüzünü işleyen güçlü bir eleştiri yatar.
Kısa bir kitap olmasına rağmen, bizleri üzerinde uzun uzun düşünmeye iter. Kısa ama çarpıcı bir eser arıyorsanız Kramp’ı mutlaka okumalısınız.

https://www.instagram.com/cityreaders...

[Mariaelena Di Gennaro · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Eravamo esistiti molto tempo prima e, al contrario di quel che avevo immaginato, di per sè scomparire non era affatto doloroso. Ti trasformi in fumo. Con ciò che resta, le persone del futuro fanno quel che possono".

4 stelline e mezzo per questo gioiellino edito da una casa editrice che ho scoperto da poco e che già mi piace tantissimo!

M ha appena sette anni quando decide di voler diventare l'aiutante di suo padre D che per lavoro fa il commesso viaggiatore e vende prodotti per ferramenta di marca Kramp. Sua madre sembra distratta, avvolta in una tristezza che le intorpidisce i sensi e la bambina, con la complicità del padre, salta sempre più spesso la scuola e, armata di scarpe lucide e valigetta, fa dei prodotti Kramp il centro della sua vita e soprattutto gli strumenti attraverso i quali scoprire il mondo. Così le stelle diventano ai suoi occhi una moltitudine di viti che il Grande Falegname, quello che noi chiamiamo Dio, ha incastonato nel cielo ed è nel catalogo di prodotti Kramp che trova le risposte e tutte le domande che affollano la sua mente di bambina.
"Kramp" è un libro di crescita, una storia che mescola pagine dolcissime ad altre molto dure e dolorose, specchio di un Cile profondamente ferito dalla spietata dittatura di Pinochet che fa da sfondo all'intera storia senza però mai schiacciarla, aspetto che ho apprezzato tantissimo.
Vedremo M crescere, assisteremo allo sgretolarsi del suo mondo di bambina che dovrà cedere il posto alla dura realtà, scopriremo cosa si nasconde dietro gli occhi tristi di sua madre, capiremo chi sono i fantasmi ai quale E, amico del padre di M, dà instancabilmente la caccia.
Maria José Ferrada con una scrittura semplice, diretta, a tratti davvero poetica colpisce il lettore dritto al cuore perchè questa non è una storia che si dimentica, perchè M e tutti gli altri personaggi di cui non sapremo mai il vero nome, lasciano dentro di noi un'impronta indelebile.
Si tratta di una lettura che mi ha fatto commuovere ed emozionare, di sicuro una delle più belle del mio 2018 e che mi ha confermato il fascino che la letteratura sudamericana esercita su di me. Ho amato la storia e soprattutto la delicatezza della scrittura, anche nei passaggi più enigmatici e metaforici che spesso raggiungevano picchi altissimi di bellezza e, per concludere, ho scelto infatti di riportare un passaggio per me meraviglioso:

"Le pallottole che si sentirono qualche secondo dopo fecero uno, due, tre, quattro, cinque buchi. E da uno di quei buchi passò un insetto della sorte.

Gli "insetti della sorte" non sono una vera e propria specie, ma insetti che si posano nel punto esatto in cui la vita cambia il suo corso. Quel lasso di tempo in cui si decide se prendere un sentiero o l'altro, se uscire o meno da una casa, se dire o non dire qualcosa. È una frazione di secondo così piccola che la può attraversare soltanto un insetto. Un insetto che, al suo passaggio, spezza per sempre la vita in due".

Una lettura consigliatissima!

[Andrea Ladino · Rating 3 out of 5]

D fue a tomar un café y anotó en una servilleta: toda vida tiene su alunizaje.

Ahí se encontraría con con los que en adelante serían una especie de familia flotante. Una familia sin parientes, y por lo mismo, más soportable que cualquier otra.

Lo que quiero decir, es que cada persona intenta explicarse el mecanismo de las cosas con lo que encuentra a mano.

A mis casi ocho años había descubierto que D no era gran cosa como padre, pero era un excelente empleador.

Dale, acordamos, en el espacio silencioso que sostiene la amistad. Porque a esas alturas D era mi empleador y también era un amigo de esos que saben que, la mayoría de las veces, más vale un buen silencio que un buen consejo.

Mi testamento se llamaba "El Futuro". En él iba repartiendo mis bienes entre las personas que conocía. Estaba lleno de borrones, porque a medida que se sentía más o menos cercana a ellos, cambiaba mi herencia de lugar. Las variaciones se producían cada día y dependían básicamente de con quiénes había compartido las últimas horas.

Mis afectos eran livianos y cambiantes. Pero eso me daba lo mismo, lo que me preocupaba en realidad era el trabajo que significaba volver a escribir, borrar y volver a escribir mi testamento cada noche.

[Alaíde Ventura · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bastante chido. La voz está buena, me gusta que oscile entre el omnisciente y la primera persona relevando la especulación pero sin explicitarla (como sí hace su compatriota chilena if you know what I mean; ¡no es crítica, las dos me gustan!)

Excelente progresión / transformación de voz conforme la personaje crece. La escena de anagnórisis es genial (no hablo de la violencia, hablo de los zapatos lustrados).

Hubo un par de cositas que se me hicieron too much, pero equis, igual soy consciente de que me he endurecido. Luego vi que MJF ha escrito mucho infantil y, con razón, y ahora quiero leerlo todo.

[Eduardo Irujo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Un libro sobre la pérdida, la infancia y la visión nostálgica del tiempo pasado.

[pibelector · Rating 4 out of 5]

Entre tierno y sórdido, termina convirtiéndose en una patada ninja al corazón. Me encantó.

[Steve · Rating 4 out of 5]

It is always kind of fun when all in the same day you hear about, buy (ebook), start to read, and finish a book.
A slight thing - 41 chapters for 170 pp, lots of white space on the page.
Having been a "field rep" for most of 30 years (in what we called "Library-Land" - I was not selling sprockets!), this book, which is set around a father who is a travelling salesman, and his very young daughter, who accompanies him for a time, interested me when I heard about it. And I enjoyed as much as I expected I would as well.
Narrated by a 7 year old girl for most of the book, and set in Pinochet's Chile. Yet it did not have a particular feel as being "Chile" - that is, other than the right wing, citizen led death squads.
Quirky and fun, with some unique characters, and yet (obviously) serious as well.
I read an interview with Ferrada the same day as well, in which she railed a bit about the "Neoliberals" allowing the demise of the small family owned stores in little towns. So, the Walmart-ization of America was not just happening here, it was happening in South America, and elsewhere too I am sure. Yet I never viewed the mega-chain stores that took over the Main Street's marketplace as being "Neoliberal" (look at what they pay, and their lack of benefits). Was there some way this political "group" was supposed to be able to stop the changing economy?
While I understand that the novel concludes with an end to her childhood, and an acceptance of the end of a near fantasy world, I still have some issues with the now 15 year old narrator choosing never to see her failing father again. He prefers to attempt to make it appear that his old, now disappeared, world still exists - and she can not live in that fantasy any longer. But, at a time when he could use his daughter the most, she leaves him for good.
The novel's translation - well, when reading the book is effortless enough that you forget it is a translation, it usually means they have done a good, a very good, job. Elizabeth Bryer has. Enough that I went to take a look at what else she has translated (she has recently published her own first novel as well). She seems to have a penchant for female authors who set their novels in war torn, revolutionary, or violent settings.
Enjoy the read, I did!

[Holly R W · Rating 3 out of 5]

"How to Order the Universe" takes place in Chile in the 1970's during Pinochet's reign as dictator. The narrator is a young girl who is seven years old when the story begins. She is called "M". Other characters include her father (a hardware salesman called "D"), her sad mother, and her father's friend (a photographer named "E"). As you can tell from the lack of full names, this is an unusual story. At first while reading it, it seemed like a fable to me.

M lives with her parents in a small town. She begins to accompany her father on his rounds as a hardware salesman, carrying her own little play suitcase. Together they make the rounds of the stores he sells to. M, like other little girls, idolizes her father and loves their adventures together. During these chapters, M seems precocious - words of wisdom seem to come naturally to her. Of course, we as readers can see that M's father is allowing her to cut school, lying to her mother about it and permitting M to smoke cigarettes. M is also learning how to con her father's customers to help him with sales.

This is a novella, less than 200 pages in length. The latter part of the story jumps ahead to the years when M is nine through fifteen years old. At this point, her parents have separated and M sees less and less of her father. M experiences hurt in this portion of the book and no longer seems too old for her age.

There is much mystery here that is not fully explained. Some of it has to do with Pinochet's dictatorship. M's mother is a shadow character. Too much is left unsaid. This novella could be the basis for a more satisfying novel.

[Andy Weston · Rating 3 out of 5]

Using initials as names, M relates her memories of how, as a young girl in Chile born in the early 1970s, she accompanied her father D as he travelled around the country selling to hardware stores. It is a charming account of those early years of partnership and the traveling salesman life.
But as the early 80s arrive life changes, though much is left unsaid; this is a repressed Chile under Pinochet, and before long comes to the fore, and M's life is turned around, she must try and make sense of a world she doesn't know a lot about, but enough to know it isn't right.
Ferrada's writing is with delicate skill, as much about what isn't said as what is; the carefree attitude towards her travelling life giving way to a cold sadness, and inevitable loss of innocence.

[Yaprak · Rating 3 out of 5]

Şilili yazar Maria Jose Ferrada'nın Kramp isimli novellası, yedi yaşındaki anlatıcı M'nin babası D ile birlikte annesinden gizli okulu kırıp, Kramp marka hırdavat ürünleri satması etrafında gelişiyor. Yavaş yavaş büyüyen M'nin ağzından annesini, babasının arkadaşı E'yi ve birlikte çalışmaya başladığı diğer kişi olan S'yi dinliyoruz. Kitapta isimler yalnızca baş harfleri ile geçiyor. Kitabın anlatımı muhtemelen yedi yaşındaki bir anlatıcıya sahip olduğu için biraz dağınık. Erken büyüyen M'nin yaşamındaki yol ayrımlarında Şili'de yaşanan askeri darbe de etkili oluyor. Dürüst olmam gerekirse çok etkilendiğim bir eser olmadı benim. Çocuk anlatıcıların ağzından eserler okumayı her zaman ilginç ve ilgi çekici bulsam da bu eserden beklediğim kadar bir lezzet alamadım.

[S H O R O · Rating 5 out of 5]

"لأن الضوء إما يظهر الأشياء وإما يخفيها"
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نوڤيلا عذبة رقيقة بنظرة طفولية حالمة بريئة ولغة هادئة جداً، كأنها همس داخلي طويل.
رحلة داخل النفس البشرية والبحث عن معنى ما تبقى بعد أن يخفت كل شيء ..
بأسلوب بسيط وعميق وواقعي تتحوّل التفاصيل اليومية إلى لحظات فلسفية.
تكتب فيرّادا عن العلاقات، والتجارب الصغيرة، وعن تلك الدروس الخفية التي تشكّلنا دون أن ننتبه.
هي رواية قصيرة لكنها ممتلئة بالحياة، بالأسئلة، بالضوء الباهت في آخر المساء ..
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"كانت طريق العودة أحبّ الطرق إلى نفسي. ليس لأن الدرب يفضي إلى بيتي، بل لأنني أحببتُ أثر الضوء في آخر المساء، ذلك الأثر الذي يصبغ كل شيء بالبساطة"

[Burcu Burhan · Rating 4 out of 5]

1980'lerde Şili… Bir kız çocuğu ve şehirden şehire gezen bir hırdavat satıcısının hikayesi sadece yüzeyde olan. Önceleri neşeli bir baba-kız yol romanı gibi gelsede, arkada aynı zamanda Pinochet'nin diktatörlüğünün dehşetini de içeriyor. Kısa ve vurucu bir bir roman Kramp, yazarı María José Ferrada’nın aynı zamanda çocuk kitapları yazarı olduğunu da eklemek isterim.