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Salt Crystals
Returning to the island of San Andrés, in the Caribbean Sea, after many years living in Mexico, forces Verónica Baruq, our main character, to question her relationship with her origins. An intriguing photograph of her great-grandparents and an eerie encounter with Maa Josephine, a Raizal old woman who she meets outside the First Baptiste Church, are only a couple of the triggers that begin to reveal the truth about her background. Her past not only puts the protagonist in contact with the island’s unknown history, but it also helps her understand the social movements which, between zouk and calypso, celebrate the Raizal identity, carry out ‘thinking rundowns’ and above all, resist.
A fascinating bildungsroman that brings to the fore the untold stories of the Afro-Caribbean population that inhabit this forgotten paradise.
WINNER OF ELISA MÚJICA PRIZE FOR NOVELS (Colombia, 2018)
A fascinating bildungsroman that brings to the fore the untold stories of the Afro-Caribbean population that inhabit this forgotten paradise.
WINNER OF ELISA MÚJICA PRIZE FOR NOVELS (Colombia, 2018)
216 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2018
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797 people want to read
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February 22, 2023
There are some fascinating themes to unpack in this one, Robin Myers's English translation of Los cristales de la sal by Cristina Bendek. The setting is Bendek's native San Andrés, an island that "rises gently from the Caribbean, part of Colombia but closer to Nicaragua, the largest island in an archipelago claimed by the Spanish, colonized by the Puritans, worked by slaves, and home to Arab traders." San Andrés is in many ways the perfect setting for a novel that gently deconstructs common narratives about colonialism. Indeed, the history of San Andrés calls into question the framing of even an anti-colonialist narrative, a construction that can oversimplify a process in which there are many different actors, across multiple time horizons, all of whom have mixed heritage, and all acting with different motivations. Bendek's work unpacking these themes was outstanding, but unfortunately that was only one part of the book. It was a disappointing choice for Bendek to write this in autofiction - a tedious and overused genre - where there was at least as much emphasis on the narrator's exploration of how her own heritage and life journey led her to become the woman she is now.
September 2, 2022
My home is a tiny island in an enormous archipelago that isn't even shown properly on maps of Colombia.
Mi suelo natal es una isla diminuta en un archipiélago gigante que no alcanza a salir completo en los mapas de Colombia.
Salt Crystals (2022) is Robin Myers' translation of the 2018 novel by Cristina Bendek Los cristales de la sal.
This was Bendek's debut novel and in Colombia won the inaugural Premio de novela Elisa Mújica which is (I think) for unpublished novels by Colombian women writers with - and I am delighted to see this on a book prize - a requirement that the novel is less than 300 pages. The judges' commendation:
The island referred to is San Andrés, in the Caribbean, part of Colombia but geographically much closer to Nicaragua, indeed the latter claims the waters around it.
The author was born there in 1987, and returned in 2016 after time spent in Mexico and Bogotá, where I believe she wrote this novel, although she now lives in Berlin.
The novel is narrated by Verónica Baruq, who has also recently returned to her native San Andrés, from Mexico City, via Bogotá. Her account begins:
The Damned Circumstances
I'm from this island in the Caribbean. I was born twenty-nine years ago on a curious coral formation, home to all sorts of people who have converged here, some against their will. I'm only just beginning to recognise the surreal nucleus from which I banished myself fifteen years ago, taking off like a shot after high school, which is when anyone who can escape will do.The mosquitos haven't recognised me yet, or the sun; I've become more foreign than native. The expres-sions, the accents, the way people move and act — they all seem exotic to me now, no longer ordinary, as they once were. Every mispronounced word sets off an alarm. Every sign of overconfidence, every thrown-together plan, the lack of initiative, the sense that everything's half-done. It all feels like knocking on closed doors, trying to wake a horde of unknown and slumbering inhabitants inside me.
La maldita circunstancia
Yo soy de esta isla del Caribe. Nací hace veintinueve años en una formación curiosa de coral, la casa de un montón de gente que ha coincidido aquí, no toda de buena gana. Apenas estoy reconociendo este núcleo surrealista del que me autoexilié hace quince años, del que salí volada cuando todos los que podemos huimos, después del bachillerato. Todavía los mosquitos no me reconocen, ni el sol, y soy menos nativa que extranjera. Los modismos, los acentos, las formas de moverse y de hacer las cosas, se me hacen exóticos ahora, en vez de ordinarios, como antes. Cada palabra mal pronunciada activa dentro de mí una alarma, cada señal de excesiva confianza y cada arreglo improvisado, la falta de afán y la sensación de que todo está a mediohacer. Supongo que en las islas el horizonte refuerza la absurda ilusión de que nada cambia, todo esto parece estar tocando puertas cerradas, llamando a despertar a una horda de habitantes desconocidos, dormidos, dentro de mí.
Verónica left the island 15 years ago to study in Bogotá, and has not returned at all for more than 8 years, following the death of her parents, who were in the process of divorcing.
Verónica is, like the author, officially Raizal, in Verónica's case via her paternal grandmother, her parents both mainlanders, but her appearance, her lack of Creole and her time spent away (she realises that she has lost track of the local gossip and shared knowledge) means most locals assume she has come from the Colombian mainland. She goes in search of her identity, and on a quest to deepen her understanding of the island's history, only to find that her family's history includes being prominent slaveowners.
I put the laptop away. The sugar cake rejoices in my bloodstream: the scene of a sinuous tunnel, a furious oscillation that sends me floating and tosses me into the fractal of a seahorse, a larger one, a smaller one, larger, smaller, multi-coloured hippocampi, slavery wasn't like that here, it wasn't so cruel -the voice of a Rebecca? Mothers aren't made of paper; they're handfuls of unverifiable memories. So I'm the breath of a prosecutor traveling backwards on the hands of a clock until I come to a clearing. So who was her father, who was her mother?
The 'sugar cake' a legacy of another issue - at the same time as her parents' death, she was diagnosed with insulin-dependent diabetes, and the need to monitor and control her blood sugar levels is a constant backdrop to the story, rather reminscent of the Parkinson's Disease in another Charco novel Elena Knows:
I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment. My pulse is fast: my blood sugar level has to be under 130 milligrams per decilitre and over seventy or I could faint, the creed, always the creed.
Parts of the novel, on her family history, are rather like a literary version of Who Do You Think You Are, and the sections on the island's political history (e.g. the pros and cons 1913 National Intendancy of San Andrés and Providencia) and current territorial disputes with Nicaragua can be rather expositional.
‘We're here to patrol the eighty-second meridian, the ocean Nicaragua wants to take from us.'
The ocean Colombia lost: a loss that will never be acknowledged. 'That's the mission,' he says proudly, 'to protect the blue part of the flag.' It's not a colour on a flag, it's the most important thing to... to me. Island people don't believe that the ocean is just the gap between gold and blood, yellow and red.That's the mainland view. From the perspective of territorial loss, though, 'It's important to take care of the Colombians' archipelago, the one that belongs to all of us,' as the pilot says.
And another key story line relates to the current political issues on the island, increasingly despoiled and the infrastructure overloaded by tourism.
But the novel is also highly lyrical, such as this passage from which is takes its title:
Our time all of our time, has converged here in this summer that should have set fire to all the plantations the colonial world, in this rhythm that would unstick any living soul from their seat in Puerto Limon, South Africa or Ghana. The rhythm is like an invisible thread connecting us, it's the strength that has brought us all to this improbable conjunction, inscrutable until the music starts and the universes overlap, until a neck, a leg, a hip, reveals the spirit inhabiting a vessel of any colour. That's how we were built: out of historical circumstance, a mysterious process that landed us all in this cooking pot, in this blockade, including the cachaco and the other mixed folks who chat and share the need and spell of San Andres, who question and refuse. We're all beset by the same pressure on this island that weeps and dances, and were more than skin. Engrossed in the rhythm, I think, we're like the salt that makes the seas, simmering in the heat of a History as acidic as wound-healing vinegar. My abstractions evaporate. In this enormous womb, I know we're like salt crystals, refractory, luminous, mirrors for each other.
And overall this was a fascinating work, a blend of the political and personal, the educational and the lyrical, and one I can see as a strong International Booker contender (indeed it feels like a book that, in English, might feature on the Anglo version).
4 stars,
The translator
Robin Myers is a is a Mexico City-based poet and Spanish-to-English translator. Her translations translations include The Forgery by Ave Barrera, co-translated with Ellen Jones, which was also published recently by Charco Press.
The publisher
This is the latest novel by Charco Press, their 36th book, and another interesting new voice from Latin America, fulfilling their remit. See my dedicated shelf for reviews of all of their books:
Mi suelo natal es una isla diminuta en un archipiélago gigante que no alcanza a salir completo en los mapas de Colombia.
Salt Crystals (2022) is Robin Myers' translation of the 2018 novel by Cristina Bendek Los cristales de la sal.
This was Bendek's debut novel and in Colombia won the inaugural Premio de novela Elisa Mújica which is (I think) for unpublished novels by Colombian women writers with - and I am delighted to see this on a book prize - a requirement that the novel is less than 300 pages. The judges' commendation:
La novela recrea la vida y la idiosincrasia de los isleños y la complejidad de sus relaciones. Hay humor y destreza en los relatos, observación aguda del mundo que describe y un lenguaje polifónico que permiten el creole, el inglés y el español. Una novela valiosa por el trabajo que hace de la memoria, de la cultura local y del lenguaje propio de la isla, y que captura la esencia de un espíritu poco explorado en la literatura colombiana. El talento de la autora para recrear las voces originarias, aunada a la indagación histórica y a una gracia narrativa singular, la hacen merecedora de reconocimiento
The island referred to is San Andrés, in the Caribbean, part of Colombia but geographically much closer to Nicaragua, indeed the latter claims the waters around it.
The author was born there in 1987, and returned in 2016 after time spent in Mexico and Bogotá, where I believe she wrote this novel, although she now lives in Berlin.
The novel is narrated by Verónica Baruq, who has also recently returned to her native San Andrés, from Mexico City, via Bogotá. Her account begins:
The Damned Circumstances
I'm from this island in the Caribbean. I was born twenty-nine years ago on a curious coral formation, home to all sorts of people who have converged here, some against their will. I'm only just beginning to recognise the surreal nucleus from which I banished myself fifteen years ago, taking off like a shot after high school, which is when anyone who can escape will do.The mosquitos haven't recognised me yet, or the sun; I've become more foreign than native. The expres-sions, the accents, the way people move and act — they all seem exotic to me now, no longer ordinary, as they once were. Every mispronounced word sets off an alarm. Every sign of overconfidence, every thrown-together plan, the lack of initiative, the sense that everything's half-done. It all feels like knocking on closed doors, trying to wake a horde of unknown and slumbering inhabitants inside me.
La maldita circunstancia
Yo soy de esta isla del Caribe. Nací hace veintinueve años en una formación curiosa de coral, la casa de un montón de gente que ha coincidido aquí, no toda de buena gana. Apenas estoy reconociendo este núcleo surrealista del que me autoexilié hace quince años, del que salí volada cuando todos los que podemos huimos, después del bachillerato. Todavía los mosquitos no me reconocen, ni el sol, y soy menos nativa que extranjera. Los modismos, los acentos, las formas de moverse y de hacer las cosas, se me hacen exóticos ahora, en vez de ordinarios, como antes. Cada palabra mal pronunciada activa dentro de mí una alarma, cada señal de excesiva confianza y cada arreglo improvisado, la falta de afán y la sensación de que todo está a mediohacer. Supongo que en las islas el horizonte refuerza la absurda ilusión de que nada cambia, todo esto parece estar tocando puertas cerradas, llamando a despertar a una horda de habitantes desconocidos, dormidos, dentro de mí.
Verónica left the island 15 years ago to study in Bogotá, and has not returned at all for more than 8 years, following the death of her parents, who were in the process of divorcing.
Verónica is, like the author, officially Raizal, in Verónica's case via her paternal grandmother, her parents both mainlanders, but her appearance, her lack of Creole and her time spent away (she realises that she has lost track of the local gossip and shared knowledge) means most locals assume she has come from the Colombian mainland. She goes in search of her identity, and on a quest to deepen her understanding of the island's history, only to find that her family's history includes being prominent slaveowners.
I put the laptop away. The sugar cake rejoices in my bloodstream: the scene of a sinuous tunnel, a furious oscillation that sends me floating and tosses me into the fractal of a seahorse, a larger one, a smaller one, larger, smaller, multi-coloured hippocampi, slavery wasn't like that here, it wasn't so cruel -the voice of a Rebecca? Mothers aren't made of paper; they're handfuls of unverifiable memories. So I'm the breath of a prosecutor traveling backwards on the hands of a clock until I come to a clearing. So who was her father, who was her mother?
The 'sugar cake' a legacy of another issue - at the same time as her parents' death, she was diagnosed with insulin-dependent diabetes, and the need to monitor and control her blood sugar levels is a constant backdrop to the story, rather reminscent of the Parkinson's Disease in another Charco novel Elena Knows:
I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment. My pulse is fast: my blood sugar level has to be under 130 milligrams per decilitre and over seventy or I could faint, the creed, always the creed.
Parts of the novel, on her family history, are rather like a literary version of Who Do You Think You Are, and the sections on the island's political history (e.g. the pros and cons 1913 National Intendancy of San Andrés and Providencia) and current territorial disputes with Nicaragua can be rather expositional.
‘We're here to patrol the eighty-second meridian, the ocean Nicaragua wants to take from us.'
The ocean Colombia lost: a loss that will never be acknowledged. 'That's the mission,' he says proudly, 'to protect the blue part of the flag.' It's not a colour on a flag, it's the most important thing to... to me. Island people don't believe that the ocean is just the gap between gold and blood, yellow and red.That's the mainland view. From the perspective of territorial loss, though, 'It's important to take care of the Colombians' archipelago, the one that belongs to all of us,' as the pilot says.
And another key story line relates to the current political issues on the island, increasingly despoiled and the infrastructure overloaded by tourism.
But the novel is also highly lyrical, such as this passage from which is takes its title:
Our time all of our time, has converged here in this summer that should have set fire to all the plantations the colonial world, in this rhythm that would unstick any living soul from their seat in Puerto Limon, South Africa or Ghana. The rhythm is like an invisible thread connecting us, it's the strength that has brought us all to this improbable conjunction, inscrutable until the music starts and the universes overlap, until a neck, a leg, a hip, reveals the spirit inhabiting a vessel of any colour. That's how we were built: out of historical circumstance, a mysterious process that landed us all in this cooking pot, in this blockade, including the cachaco and the other mixed folks who chat and share the need and spell of San Andres, who question and refuse. We're all beset by the same pressure on this island that weeps and dances, and were more than skin. Engrossed in the rhythm, I think, we're like the salt that makes the seas, simmering in the heat of a History as acidic as wound-healing vinegar. My abstractions evaporate. In this enormous womb, I know we're like salt crystals, refractory, luminous, mirrors for each other.
And overall this was a fascinating work, a blend of the political and personal, the educational and the lyrical, and one I can see as a strong International Booker contender (indeed it feels like a book that, in English, might feature on the Anglo version).
4 stars,
The translator
Robin Myers is a is a Mexico City-based poet and Spanish-to-English translator. Her translations translations include The Forgery by Ave Barrera, co-translated with Ellen Jones, which was also published recently by Charco Press.
The publisher
This is the latest novel by Charco Press, their 36th book, and another interesting new voice from Latin America, fulfilling their remit. See my dedicated shelf for reviews of all of their books:
Charco means 'puddle' in Spanish. It is also a colloquialism used in some Latin American countries to refer to the Atlantic Ocean. Therefore, cruzar el charco means 'crossing the puddle' and is a way of referring to when someone is going overseas, or travelling between continents.
Charco Press focuses on finding outstanding contemporary Latin American literature and bringing it to new readers in the English-speaking world. We aim to act as a cultural and linguistic bridge for you to be able to access a brand new world of fiction that has, until now, been missing from your reading list.
It is an exciting time to be discovering and reading Latin American literature given the vast and rich array of works coming out of this region, the diversity of voices. Charco Press is only able to represent a tiny amount – indeed, a small ‘puddle’- compared to the ocean of talent that exists out there. We actively seek out those authors that are exemplary, that produce works that are not only entertaining, but also engaging and thought provoking. And we are proud to be bringing them to you.
We also consider our translators to be a critical part of the equation. They are the conduits bringing our authors' voices to you, and it is their interpretation, their attention to the nuances, that makes the difference. We select contemporary translators, to give our authors a modern voice. Charco Press is doing things differently in this regard, stepping away from the mainstream, and bringing in emerging talent from the margins.
October 7, 2022
At a certain point, I felt worn out by all the details I can’t seem to recall or repeat to myself clearly now.
I received Salt Crystals as part of my subscription to the excellent Charco Press. It is Robin Myers’ translation of Cristina Bendek’s “Los Cristales de la Sal”.
I don’t know if it is me or the book, but my reading experience here almost exactly matches the quote I began with.
What we read is the story of our protagonist, Verónica Baruq, as she returns to the island of San Andrés. Here she sets about investigating her family history, a journey that also uncovers a lot of the island’s history.
And it’s these two aspects that rather switched me off from the book. This is a shame: I feel that I should have engaged better with this book and learned a lot from it, but I have to confess that for some reason none of it stuck with me. Things kept happening that referred back to things earlier in the book and I had forgotten all about them. I kept having to skip back a few pages to work out what I was reading about.
All this suggests that it is me rather than the book that is at fault, although I don’t normally have this problem with a book that is only just over 200 pages long.
Anyway, I’m afraid there seems to be an incompatibility between me and this book. I’ll leave it there and move on.
I received Salt Crystals as part of my subscription to the excellent Charco Press. It is Robin Myers’ translation of Cristina Bendek’s “Los Cristales de la Sal”.
I don’t know if it is me or the book, but my reading experience here almost exactly matches the quote I began with.
What we read is the story of our protagonist, Verónica Baruq, as she returns to the island of San Andrés. Here she sets about investigating her family history, a journey that also uncovers a lot of the island’s history.
And it’s these two aspects that rather switched me off from the book. This is a shame: I feel that I should have engaged better with this book and learned a lot from it, but I have to confess that for some reason none of it stuck with me. Things kept happening that referred back to things earlier in the book and I had forgotten all about them. I kept having to skip back a few pages to work out what I was reading about.
All this suggests that it is me rather than the book that is at fault, although I don’t normally have this problem with a book that is only just over 200 pages long.
Anyway, I’m afraid there seems to be an incompatibility between me and this book. I’ll leave it there and move on.
March 11, 2020
Verónica Baruq de 29 años, luego de haber permanecido en México unos años, ha aprendido de la soledad después de la muerte de sus padres en un accidente y el descubrimiento de una enfermedad que la acompañara desde entonces, debe regresar a su ciudad de origen, San Andrés, una isla de la cual creyó que fue como un espacio que la mantuvo encerrada y a la cual no pensaba regresar; pero se ha de ocupar de la casa de sus padres y decidir qué hacer con ella.
Llegar allí le causa muchas sensaciones, el desapego a emociones estancadas en el tiempo, y mientras decide cómo llevar estos días y qué camino tomar, va reviviendo caminos, y tal vez con base en los recuerdos que van llegando se crea una nueva imagen de esta isla, que ahora nota dejada, llena de “mañas” de los políticos que dicen hacer y realmente han dejado la isla sumida en muchos aspectos y quedada de los cambios necesarios para sus gentes, que aún no se resuelven. Un matiz de la corrupción.
En estos ires y venires, un álbum familiar orienta la necesidad de saber sobre sus orígenes raizales, su relación con la tierra que hoy habita, sus más remotos antepasados. La autora nos narra inclusive partes de la fundación y formación de la isla; incluso como parte del territorio colombiano. Es interesante ese descubrir, y que nos lleve a conocer algo que de otra manera no lo sería; interesante además como Verónica interpreta esto, como la une a las gentes, y como la deja entre el irse o quedarse y apropiarse de algo por el hacer para los suyos.
El otro asunto llamativo, el manejo de su enfermedad, una conciencia que yo digo fue algo como si hubiera sido la herencia descubierta tras la ausencia de sus padres, por lo que aparece en la desolación de su partida y la sombra de dudas que la perseguirán siempre.
Una narrativa que incluye vocablos creole, como diálogos armónicos en un nativo de estas regiones propio de las etnias con su español, la autora entremezcla no por confundirnos, mas como emular el ambiente donde está generando su realidad, con su propia fuerza para identificarse como la persona que es parte de este territorio.
Me parece que vale mucho apreciarlo por que nos lleva a conocer un lugar nuestro (para los colombianos) y al mismo tiempo tan a la otra orilla, resulta un canto que incita a explorar algo más en aras de un reconocimiento a sus habitantes incluso con todo lo sociopolitico que conlleva.
“Los cristales de la sal”, de la autora Cristina Bendek, fue la ganadora del Premio Nacional de Novela Elisa Mújica (Laguna – Idartes-2018). Editado por Laguna Libros.
Llegar allí le causa muchas sensaciones, el desapego a emociones estancadas en el tiempo, y mientras decide cómo llevar estos días y qué camino tomar, va reviviendo caminos, y tal vez con base en los recuerdos que van llegando se crea una nueva imagen de esta isla, que ahora nota dejada, llena de “mañas” de los políticos que dicen hacer y realmente han dejado la isla sumida en muchos aspectos y quedada de los cambios necesarios para sus gentes, que aún no se resuelven. Un matiz de la corrupción.
En estos ires y venires, un álbum familiar orienta la necesidad de saber sobre sus orígenes raizales, su relación con la tierra que hoy habita, sus más remotos antepasados. La autora nos narra inclusive partes de la fundación y formación de la isla; incluso como parte del territorio colombiano. Es interesante ese descubrir, y que nos lleve a conocer algo que de otra manera no lo sería; interesante además como Verónica interpreta esto, como la une a las gentes, y como la deja entre el irse o quedarse y apropiarse de algo por el hacer para los suyos.
El otro asunto llamativo, el manejo de su enfermedad, una conciencia que yo digo fue algo como si hubiera sido la herencia descubierta tras la ausencia de sus padres, por lo que aparece en la desolación de su partida y la sombra de dudas que la perseguirán siempre.
Una narrativa que incluye vocablos creole, como diálogos armónicos en un nativo de estas regiones propio de las etnias con su español, la autora entremezcla no por confundirnos, mas como emular el ambiente donde está generando su realidad, con su propia fuerza para identificarse como la persona que es parte de este territorio.
Me parece que vale mucho apreciarlo por que nos lleva a conocer un lugar nuestro (para los colombianos) y al mismo tiempo tan a la otra orilla, resulta un canto que incita a explorar algo más en aras de un reconocimiento a sus habitantes incluso con todo lo sociopolitico que conlleva.
“Los cristales de la sal”, de la autora Cristina Bendek, fue la ganadora del Premio Nacional de Novela Elisa Mújica (Laguna – Idartes-2018). Editado por Laguna Libros.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 10, 2019
Verónica Baruq debe regresar a San Andrés tras quince años de exilio autoimpuesto y dejar en pausa su vida en México. Al llegar a la isla se encuentra con que esta no parece haber cambiado y empiezan a aflorar en ella esos recuerdos que había tratado de mantener a raya. Veronica nos narra el accidente en que sus padres murieron en Bogotá y como este accidente coincide con el descubrimiento de su enfermedad y de la soledad.
Verónica Siempre quiso escapar de esa isla porque la sentía una prisión, pero con este viaje descubre una isla que no conocía y que es a la vez una forma de interesarse por su historia, la de ella y la de la isla, por sus problemas y por la cotidianidad que allí se vive. Todo empieza con unas fotografías de sus ancestros que la llevarán por coincidencia a ahondar en sus raíces y que están estrechamente relacionadas con la historia de San Andrés y que conocerá de la mano de personajes como Josephine o de Juleen (Hay otros personajes pero estos dos me encantaron).
Es una novela con un viaje muy interesante por conocer la identidad y que nos muestra el cambio que se suscita en Verónica con todas las cosas que aprende y que por supuesto significa mucho dolor y mucha ira por ver a la isla con otros ojos.
Un libro necesario para conocer esa realidad de San Andrés, esa isla lejana y paradisiaca que no conocemos realmente. Es un libro que plasma todo el abandono del estado, los problemas médico y hospitalarios, la recolección de basura y el agua potable, la corrupción del gobierno local que permite las construcciones de hoteles a diestra y siniestra, la sobrepoblación, las necesidades que tiene la isla y el daño de los turistas que consumen y tiran la basura en la playa o el mar.
Verónica Siempre quiso escapar de esa isla porque la sentía una prisión, pero con este viaje descubre una isla que no conocía y que es a la vez una forma de interesarse por su historia, la de ella y la de la isla, por sus problemas y por la cotidianidad que allí se vive. Todo empieza con unas fotografías de sus ancestros que la llevarán por coincidencia a ahondar en sus raíces y que están estrechamente relacionadas con la historia de San Andrés y que conocerá de la mano de personajes como Josephine o de Juleen (Hay otros personajes pero estos dos me encantaron).
Es una novela con un viaje muy interesante por conocer la identidad y que nos muestra el cambio que se suscita en Verónica con todas las cosas que aprende y que por supuesto significa mucho dolor y mucha ira por ver a la isla con otros ojos.
Un libro necesario para conocer esa realidad de San Andrés, esa isla lejana y paradisiaca que no conocemos realmente. Es un libro que plasma todo el abandono del estado, los problemas médico y hospitalarios, la recolección de basura y el agua potable, la corrupción del gobierno local que permite las construcciones de hoteles a diestra y siniestra, la sobrepoblación, las necesidades que tiene la isla y el daño de los turistas que consumen y tiran la basura en la playa o el mar.
March 3, 2023
I've had the hardest time writing a review for Salt Crystals. Not because it was bad or didn't like it, but because it packs a lot in its pages. It combines the historical and political with the personal. It constantly asks what is identity and is it a fixed answer? On an island with a history of colonialism, who is left to deal with the environmental pressures left behind and yet to come? Like said, it's a lot.
This is a sort of coming of age story or maybe it's a finding an identity one. Veronica is from San Andres, a Colombian island, and hasn't been back in over a decade since living in Mexico City. When she comes back after her parents death, she seems like an outsider to those on the island. Her skin is too light and she never spoke the Creole language of the island.
There's a lot of exposition on the history of the island and what it means to be Raizal. It makes for some dense reading, where even Victoria mentions feeling worn by all the names and dates. She was told that there was no 'black blood" (ie slaves) in the family, but an old family photograph she finds sends her down a path of discovery and creates a new history for her. A lot of this slowed down the book for me, there's a lot to unpack!
Eventually Victoria begins to feel like she belongs and starts focusing on the island's future. Here we get another aspect of colonialism, the abuse of the land as a resource. From state projects, tourism, and rising sea levels (while also facing a drought) the island and its residents are vulnerable. Social movements begin to coalesce, your family history doesn't matter at this point.The settlers and tourists have an out, but the indigenous communities are left behind with nowhere to go. The book doesn't end with an easy answer, we're actually left with a literal storm coming.
I loved reading about the island and the characters Victoria meets. Bendek's writing is beautiful and vivid. Myers' translation is nimble, keeping some things in Creole or Spanish, including some slang. I could see this as an Intentional Booker contender.
This is a sort of coming of age story or maybe it's a finding an identity one. Veronica is from San Andres, a Colombian island, and hasn't been back in over a decade since living in Mexico City. When she comes back after her parents death, she seems like an outsider to those on the island. Her skin is too light and she never spoke the Creole language of the island.
There's a lot of exposition on the history of the island and what it means to be Raizal. It makes for some dense reading, where even Victoria mentions feeling worn by all the names and dates. She was told that there was no 'black blood" (ie slaves) in the family, but an old family photograph she finds sends her down a path of discovery and creates a new history for her. A lot of this slowed down the book for me, there's a lot to unpack!
Eventually Victoria begins to feel like she belongs and starts focusing on the island's future. Here we get another aspect of colonialism, the abuse of the land as a resource. From state projects, tourism, and rising sea levels (while also facing a drought) the island and its residents are vulnerable. Social movements begin to coalesce, your family history doesn't matter at this point.The settlers and tourists have an out, but the indigenous communities are left behind with nowhere to go. The book doesn't end with an easy answer, we're actually left with a literal storm coming.
I loved reading about the island and the characters Victoria meets. Bendek's writing is beautiful and vivid. Myers' translation is nimble, keeping some things in Creole or Spanish, including some slang. I could see this as an Intentional Booker contender.
March 5, 2023
"That's how we were built: out of historical circumstance, a mysterious process that landed us all in this cooking pot, in this blockade, including the cachaco and the other mixed folks who chat and share the need and spell of San Andres, who question and refuse. We're all beset by the same pressure on this island that weeps and dances, and we're more than skin. Engrossed in the rhythm, I think, we're like the salt that makes the seas, simmering in the heat of a History as acidic as wound-healing vinegar. My abstractions evaporate. In this enormous wound, I know we're like salt crystals, refractory, luminous, mirrors for each other"
29-year-old Victoria Baruq returned to her hometown in San Andres after a bad breakup with her ex, Roberto. Victoria's parents were mainlanders (i.e. Colombians) but her paternal grandmother was an islander, which makes Victoria a Raizal (an Afro-Caribbean ethnic group from San Andres). That said, she doesn't identify herself as a Raizal as she is not even a fluent speaker of Creole (a language often spoken by Raizals), where people question her: “How can you be Raizal if you don’t speak Creole?” Victoria thus embarked on a journey to search for her identity, the island's history as well as her family's history, to which she discovered that her great-grandparents were slaveowners.
Salt Crystals is Cristina Bendek's debut novel, written in Spanish and translated into English by Robin Myers. It is a blend of history, politics, and the narrator's journey in searching for her identity and heritage. Bendek inculcated a lot of historical events surrounding Columbia, San Andres, and Providencia: the territorial disputes of Nicaragua, the legacy of slavery and colonialism in San Andres/Providencia, the previous pirating activities in the island (including the history of Henry Morgan i.e. the Welsh pirate), the culture of "thinkin’ rundowns" where the community gathers and discuss politics, current issues such as capitalism, predatory tourism, overpopulation, corruption, the inefficiency of public service, the lack of supplies in hospitals. After attending several "blockades", "thinkin' rundowns" and protests, Victoria concluded: "I've come to feel that nostalgia is a trap in this place. Lots of people want to turn back time - to even before the colony. Deep down, though, we don't have anywhere to return to: not to Africa, not to the Middle East. The entire Caribbean had its period of reversion, of wanting to find itself on the old continent, but no one over there knows who we are anymore. We have to accept it - it's wonderful to accept it. We've transformed it all". This does not mean that we have to accept all the fragility of life in San Andres passively. Victoria clarifies that: "There's a difference between accepting the world passively, crying and staring out the window, and making it your own. We have to take it over. We need to understand that we're the whole and part of the whole, a reflection of something greater" For instance, "Now we're asking for autonomy - so why not simply live autonomously? Autonomy is the full expression of our nature, our exotic nature. Why not make use of what is rightfully ours and give birth to generations that travel beyond the scope of our limiting fictions?" Bendek's worldview hinges on one's effort to "decolonize" oneself, either spiritually, mentally, or physically. Bendek's arguments are pretty impressive. That said, the outlining of historical events is rather info-dumpy (as I seriously think that Bendek took a simple way out by presenting these eye-opening/interesting historical facts via Victoria's visit to the local library and doing her research). The over-emphasis on history and politics also caused the character development and the use of side characters to be sidelined. Without a doubt, it is still an interesting read and Bendek's views really offer some food for thought. A 3.8/5 star read to me.
29-year-old Victoria Baruq returned to her hometown in San Andres after a bad breakup with her ex, Roberto. Victoria's parents were mainlanders (i.e. Colombians) but her paternal grandmother was an islander, which makes Victoria a Raizal (an Afro-Caribbean ethnic group from San Andres). That said, she doesn't identify herself as a Raizal as she is not even a fluent speaker of Creole (a language often spoken by Raizals), where people question her: “How can you be Raizal if you don’t speak Creole?” Victoria thus embarked on a journey to search for her identity, the island's history as well as her family's history, to which she discovered that her great-grandparents were slaveowners.
Salt Crystals is Cristina Bendek's debut novel, written in Spanish and translated into English by Robin Myers. It is a blend of history, politics, and the narrator's journey in searching for her identity and heritage. Bendek inculcated a lot of historical events surrounding Columbia, San Andres, and Providencia: the territorial disputes of Nicaragua, the legacy of slavery and colonialism in San Andres/Providencia, the previous pirating activities in the island (including the history of Henry Morgan i.e. the Welsh pirate), the culture of "thinkin’ rundowns" where the community gathers and discuss politics, current issues such as capitalism, predatory tourism, overpopulation, corruption, the inefficiency of public service, the lack of supplies in hospitals. After attending several "blockades", "thinkin' rundowns" and protests, Victoria concluded: "I've come to feel that nostalgia is a trap in this place. Lots of people want to turn back time - to even before the colony. Deep down, though, we don't have anywhere to return to: not to Africa, not to the Middle East. The entire Caribbean had its period of reversion, of wanting to find itself on the old continent, but no one over there knows who we are anymore. We have to accept it - it's wonderful to accept it. We've transformed it all". This does not mean that we have to accept all the fragility of life in San Andres passively. Victoria clarifies that: "There's a difference between accepting the world passively, crying and staring out the window, and making it your own. We have to take it over. We need to understand that we're the whole and part of the whole, a reflection of something greater" For instance, "Now we're asking for autonomy - so why not simply live autonomously? Autonomy is the full expression of our nature, our exotic nature. Why not make use of what is rightfully ours and give birth to generations that travel beyond the scope of our limiting fictions?" Bendek's worldview hinges on one's effort to "decolonize" oneself, either spiritually, mentally, or physically. Bendek's arguments are pretty impressive. That said, the outlining of historical events is rather info-dumpy (as I seriously think that Bendek took a simple way out by presenting these eye-opening/interesting historical facts via Victoria's visit to the local library and doing her research). The over-emphasis on history and politics also caused the character development and the use of side characters to be sidelined. Without a doubt, it is still an interesting read and Bendek's views really offer some food for thought. A 3.8/5 star read to me.
October 3, 2019
Una búsqueda de identidad que puede sentirse muy propia para cualquier americano que siente que esta armado por pedazos de todo lo que fue formando y forma el continente. Me sorprendió las descripciones de las situaciones devenidas de su enfermedad, como hija de una insulina dependiente, entendí porque esas partes aparecían en los momentos que lo hacían, y valoré como narró cada síntoma, cada rutina de la enfermedad, el "nacimiento" "sorpresa" de ésta, impecable.
Con respecto a la isla, para mi la gran protagonista, siento que ya la conozco, y aún así espero conocerla en persona, pero luego de este libro, mi actitud de turista será totalmente distinta a como sería ir antes de leer el libro. Consciente de cada cosa que la hizo ser como es en espíritu, el paraíso que es el Caribe muchas veces ni es valorado como tal por los visitantes.
Un viaje hermoso en muchos sentidos a través de una búsqueda, de lo que se descubre y a lo que se vuelve.
Con respecto a la isla, para mi la gran protagonista, siento que ya la conozco, y aún así espero conocerla en persona, pero luego de este libro, mi actitud de turista será totalmente distinta a como sería ir antes de leer el libro. Consciente de cada cosa que la hizo ser como es en espíritu, el paraíso que es el Caribe muchas veces ni es valorado como tal por los visitantes.
Un viaje hermoso en muchos sentidos a través de una búsqueda, de lo que se descubre y a lo que se vuelve.
March 11, 2023
2.5 Stars
Salt Crystals tells story of Verónica Baruq, who returns to her ancestral home in San Andres after spending years abroad. Verónica is officially Raizal, though she neither looks the part nor speaks Creole, leading to locals assuming that she comes from the Colombian mainland. Moreover, her parents died in a car accident several years earlier, and she has no surviving relatives, making her feel more disconnected with her identity and her homeland. To reconnect with the members of the community, she embarks on a journey of self-discovery and examination of her racial and cultural identity. In the process, she not only learns about the history of the island but also uncovers secrets of her own family history.
Salt Crystals is an interesting book. It is a searing political commentary on the current state of San Andres, an island in the Caribbean, part of Colombia but geographically much closer to Nicaragua. A melting pot of different cultures, San Andres is a small island, who still reels from the repercussions of colonialism and slavery. The island is constantly exploited by tourism and underdeveloped by corrupt governance. Throughout the novel, author tells us the history of the island and this is where the problem lies. Instead of weaving the history organically into the story, the author uses exposition and dialogues, which makes the novel dense and disengages the reader from the story.
The other issue I had with the novel is the narrative style. For me personally, the journal entry style left me feeling disconnected with Verónica despite her engaging journey of ‘getting decolonised, little by little’, which a lot of people from colonised countries can connect with.
"Those places are dangerous.’ I was always told. But the whole island is my mother, I tell myself: I came out of the ocean and rose up here on the sand that’s existed for millions of years, through the blood of all my dead."
What I did love about the novel is the evocation of tropical life, the geological struggles of the island and Veronica’s constant struggle with her diabetes. The hallucinations induced by her diabetes send her spiraling: “who inhabits me, who’s calling me? Gyal! What are these strokes of fate? Is it the sugar talking?” and though they seem overwhelming initially, you slowly realize their importance.
All in all, though I was left feeling rather ambivalent about this book due to the overwhelming history lessons, there is no denying that this a significant and ruminative novel exploring the legacy of colonialism in San Andrés, Colombia.
Salt Crystals tells story of Verónica Baruq, who returns to her ancestral home in San Andres after spending years abroad. Verónica is officially Raizal, though she neither looks the part nor speaks Creole, leading to locals assuming that she comes from the Colombian mainland. Moreover, her parents died in a car accident several years earlier, and she has no surviving relatives, making her feel more disconnected with her identity and her homeland. To reconnect with the members of the community, she embarks on a journey of self-discovery and examination of her racial and cultural identity. In the process, she not only learns about the history of the island but also uncovers secrets of her own family history.
Salt Crystals is an interesting book. It is a searing political commentary on the current state of San Andres, an island in the Caribbean, part of Colombia but geographically much closer to Nicaragua. A melting pot of different cultures, San Andres is a small island, who still reels from the repercussions of colonialism and slavery. The island is constantly exploited by tourism and underdeveloped by corrupt governance. Throughout the novel, author tells us the history of the island and this is where the problem lies. Instead of weaving the history organically into the story, the author uses exposition and dialogues, which makes the novel dense and disengages the reader from the story.
The other issue I had with the novel is the narrative style. For me personally, the journal entry style left me feeling disconnected with Verónica despite her engaging journey of ‘getting decolonised, little by little’, which a lot of people from colonised countries can connect with.
"Those places are dangerous.’ I was always told. But the whole island is my mother, I tell myself: I came out of the ocean and rose up here on the sand that’s existed for millions of years, through the blood of all my dead."
What I did love about the novel is the evocation of tropical life, the geological struggles of the island and Veronica’s constant struggle with her diabetes. The hallucinations induced by her diabetes send her spiraling: “who inhabits me, who’s calling me? Gyal! What are these strokes of fate? Is it the sugar talking?” and though they seem overwhelming initially, you slowly realize their importance.
All in all, though I was left feeling rather ambivalent about this book due to the overwhelming history lessons, there is no denying that this a significant and ruminative novel exploring the legacy of colonialism in San Andrés, Colombia.
September 28, 2025
3.5
A meandering and penetrating read, a woman rediscovering herself as she discovers the island she comes from.
I feel, however, that the Mexico City storyline was not developed enough, nor was her diabetes something that added to her story of self discovery. It feels almost like her acceptance of her diabetes is on a level which is *too* physical, almost doing a disservice to the deep and complicated spiritual awakening we see in her.
Also, not sure about the extent to which self-acceptance becomes the act of relinquishing all control to the elements, but perhaps this is just a difference of opinion.
A meandering and penetrating read, a woman rediscovering herself as she discovers the island she comes from.
I feel, however, that the Mexico City storyline was not developed enough, nor was her diabetes something that added to her story of self discovery. It feels almost like her acceptance of her diabetes is on a level which is *too* physical, almost doing a disservice to the deep and complicated spiritual awakening we see in her.
Also, not sure about the extent to which self-acceptance becomes the act of relinquishing all control to the elements, but perhaps this is just a difference of opinion.
February 3, 2023
In the Caribbean Sea close to the coast of Nicaragua there lies an island shaped like a seahorse with beaches of beautiful white sand. While it is close to Nicaragua it is Colombian. The white beaches draw tourists which causes environmental problems on an island only 10 square miles in area.
This is where Victoria Buruq the main character of Salt Crystals returns. Victoria is a Raizal which means she is from San Andres as she was born here and her family has deep roots here.
Salt Crystals is a work of auto fiction with several essential themes, Victoria's story, the history of San Andres and Victoria's struggle with diabetes.
Victoria's story remains murky to me and I wish it were more fully defined, something I could sink my teeth into, but what clearly shines through in the the novel is the history of
San Andres which takes up a good chunk of the novel and which I wish was done a little more seamlessly.
Throughout the book we return to Victoria checking her blood glucose levels. Her need for food and the food she finds, eats and cooks. Descriptions of island meals and the wonderful fruit which grows on the island.
This wasn't a totally satisfying read for me, but it certainly did engage my curiosity and I'm glad to have historical background on an island I knew nothing about.
This is where Victoria Buruq the main character of Salt Crystals returns. Victoria is a Raizal which means she is from San Andres as she was born here and her family has deep roots here.
Salt Crystals is a work of auto fiction with several essential themes, Victoria's story, the history of San Andres and Victoria's struggle with diabetes.
Victoria's story remains murky to me and I wish it were more fully defined, something I could sink my teeth into, but what clearly shines through in the the novel is the history of
San Andres which takes up a good chunk of the novel and which I wish was done a little more seamlessly.
Throughout the book we return to Victoria checking her blood glucose levels. Her need for food and the food she finds, eats and cooks. Descriptions of island meals and the wonderful fruit which grows on the island.
This wasn't a totally satisfying read for me, but it certainly did engage my curiosity and I'm glad to have historical background on an island I knew nothing about.
February 23, 2025
"No es suficiente omitir o ignorar que el pasado sucedió de una cierta forma, hay que conocerlo."
No sabía qué esperar de este libro y me sorprendió muchísimo. una historia sobre encontrarse con una misma y sus raíces que se suma a la eterna pregunta sobre por qué nos vamos o nos quedamos en el lugar de dónde somos. Hermoso y desolador, aprendí bastantes cosas sobre Colombia con este libro, y siempre aprecio un libro que me enseña cosas nuevas.
No sabía qué esperar de este libro y me sorprendió muchísimo. una historia sobre encontrarse con una misma y sus raíces que se suma a la eterna pregunta sobre por qué nos vamos o nos quedamos en el lugar de dónde somos. Hermoso y desolador, aprendí bastantes cosas sobre Colombia con este libro, y siempre aprecio un libro que me enseña cosas nuevas.
January 12, 2023
This was everything.
March 5, 2024
⇝
3.5 stars
September 30, 2022
After many years of living in Mexico, Victoria returns to the island of San Andrés, in the Caribbean Sea, where she becomes reacquainted with the sights, sounds and scents of the island and shares with us her experiences and the painful memories which are evoked by her return to the place she once called home.
Salt Crystals is a story about searching for identity and as we become more involved with Victoria’s quest to discover more about her own family background so we learn about the history of the island and the political difficulties it is experiencing in the present. That the author was also born on San Andrés adds a special authenticity to this debut story and her connection to the place and its people is very evident.
Beautifully written and deeply descriptive, Salt Crystals is an interesting observation about life on this tiny island "Engrossed in the rhythm, I think, we're like the salt that makes the seas, simmering in the heat of a History as acidic as wound-healing vinegar. My abstractions evaporate. In this enormous womb, I know we're like salt crystals, refractory, luminous, mirrors for each other.."
In 2018 Salt Crystals won the Elisa Mújica National Novel Prize (Columbia). Beautifully translated by Robin Myers this is the first time the book appears as an English translation.
Salt Crystals is a story about searching for identity and as we become more involved with Victoria’s quest to discover more about her own family background so we learn about the history of the island and the political difficulties it is experiencing in the present. That the author was also born on San Andrés adds a special authenticity to this debut story and her connection to the place and its people is very evident.
Beautifully written and deeply descriptive, Salt Crystals is an interesting observation about life on this tiny island "Engrossed in the rhythm, I think, we're like the salt that makes the seas, simmering in the heat of a History as acidic as wound-healing vinegar. My abstractions evaporate. In this enormous womb, I know we're like salt crystals, refractory, luminous, mirrors for each other.."
In 2018 Salt Crystals won the Elisa Mújica National Novel Prize (Columbia). Beautifully translated by Robin Myers this is the first time the book appears as an English translation.
August 7, 2019
Descubrí este libro por una reseña muy bonita que le hicieron en la Revista Arcadia. Es la historia de una sanandresana* que regresa a la Isla después de 13 años de haber vivido entre Bogotá y México. Regresa para hacerse cargo de la casa de sus padres, ya fallecidos, y para encontrar sus raíces.
No es solo un viaje de un país a otro, es un viaje en el tiempo que hace la protagonista hasta sus orígenes. Y en ese descubrimiento, a partir de fotografías, testamentos y demás documentos, nos va contando un poco de la historia desconocida de la isla y de los movimientos sociales para rescatarla de tanto turismo y construcciones sin planeación.
Esta primera novela de Cristina Bendek ganó el Premio Elisa Mújica de novela escrita por mujeres.
✏ “¿Te vas a quedar aquí? No te quedes, … aquí no hay futuro (…) Tal vez tenía razón, en San Andrés lo que hay es puro presente”.
✏ “Ciudad de México fue renovadora, aprendí a vivir con mi condición crónica, a tomar mezcal sin que se me disparara la glucosa y a amar a un extraño que me ofreció lo que pudo”.
*Gentilicio de las personas nacidas en la Isla de San Andrés, Colombia.
No es solo un viaje de un país a otro, es un viaje en el tiempo que hace la protagonista hasta sus orígenes. Y en ese descubrimiento, a partir de fotografías, testamentos y demás documentos, nos va contando un poco de la historia desconocida de la isla y de los movimientos sociales para rescatarla de tanto turismo y construcciones sin planeación.
Esta primera novela de Cristina Bendek ganó el Premio Elisa Mújica de novela escrita por mujeres.
✏ “¿Te vas a quedar aquí? No te quedes, … aquí no hay futuro (…) Tal vez tenía razón, en San Andrés lo que hay es puro presente”.
✏ “Ciudad de México fue renovadora, aprendí a vivir con mi condición crónica, a tomar mezcal sin que se me disparara la glucosa y a amar a un extraño que me ofreció lo que pudo”.
*Gentilicio de las personas nacidas en la Isla de San Andrés, Colombia.
November 10, 2025
Me gusta la idea de obras literarias escritas desde un lugar "periférico". Es una postura más o menos política que entiendo/me parece necesaria, y leo con gusto libros que construyen lugares que me interesan. Por esto disfruté hasta cierto punto la lectura de Los cristales de la sal.
Del punto de vista literario, sin embargo, la novela no me pareció tan bien lograda (a pesar de que ganó un premio). Es la historia de una nativa de la isla que regresa del extranjero después de una larga ausencia para reconciliarse con su identidad, y de paso aprende sobre las luchas de los isleños menos privilegiados. Pero lo aprende desde una mirada externa, es decir no a través de algún contacto directo con esas realidades, sino a través de largas conversaciones con intelectuales militantes de izquierda que le abren los ojos. Muchas de las situaciones y diálogos parecen pretextos para visibilizar problemáticas sociales de la Isla de San Andrés, cosa que disfrutaría en una crónica periodistica pero en la novela suena como un largo sermón.
La parte más lograda me parece la búsqueda de la identidad de la narradora, el descubrimiento de las historias de su familia.
Del punto de vista literario, sin embargo, la novela no me pareció tan bien lograda (a pesar de que ganó un premio). Es la historia de una nativa de la isla que regresa del extranjero después de una larga ausencia para reconciliarse con su identidad, y de paso aprende sobre las luchas de los isleños menos privilegiados. Pero lo aprende desde una mirada externa, es decir no a través de algún contacto directo con esas realidades, sino a través de largas conversaciones con intelectuales militantes de izquierda que le abren los ojos. Muchas de las situaciones y diálogos parecen pretextos para visibilizar problemáticas sociales de la Isla de San Andrés, cosa que disfrutaría en una crónica periodistica pero en la novela suena como un largo sermón.
La parte más lograda me parece la búsqueda de la identidad de la narradora, el descubrimiento de las historias de su familia.
June 26, 2021
Los cristales de la sal nos confronta no solo con la historia de la protagonista, una isleña que regresa a San Andrés después de muchos años, sino también con la búsqueda de su historia familiar que habla necesariamente de la historia de la Isla.
Es una historia que nos habla de la opresión, del racismo y del abandono estatal, pero también de la resistencia, del pensamiento crítico de los jóvenes y de su deseo de mejorar las condiciones de vida en la isla.
Bendek nos adentra en un San Andrés que, aunque mantiene su belleza, es mucho más complejo que las fotografías de los turistas y que nuestras propias expectativas. Nos muestra cómo San Andrés difiere además de la costa caribeña del continente colombiano, y nos habla de los acentos que tienen las personas dependiendo de su origen; nos muestra cómo se habla el creole y cuáles son algunas de las creencias populares.
Todo esto hace que la novela sea una oportunidad perfecta para aprender de la isla, pero también para encontrarse con la búsqueda de una mujer joven por encontrar su origen y su lugar en el mundo.
Cristina Bendek fue ganadora con Los cristales de la sal del premio de novela Elisa Mujica.
Es una historia que nos habla de la opresión, del racismo y del abandono estatal, pero también de la resistencia, del pensamiento crítico de los jóvenes y de su deseo de mejorar las condiciones de vida en la isla.
Bendek nos adentra en un San Andrés que, aunque mantiene su belleza, es mucho más complejo que las fotografías de los turistas y que nuestras propias expectativas. Nos muestra cómo San Andrés difiere además de la costa caribeña del continente colombiano, y nos habla de los acentos que tienen las personas dependiendo de su origen; nos muestra cómo se habla el creole y cuáles son algunas de las creencias populares.
Todo esto hace que la novela sea una oportunidad perfecta para aprender de la isla, pero también para encontrarse con la búsqueda de una mujer joven por encontrar su origen y su lugar en el mundo.
Cristina Bendek fue ganadora con Los cristales de la sal del premio de novela Elisa Mujica.
October 29, 2021
Acabé de cerrar Los Cristales de la Sal con sentimientos encontrados. Amedida que leía, se sentía la oscilación entre la novela, contando la historia de los personajes, y la crónica, narrando el pasado de la isla. Los puntos altos del libro aparecen allí, cuando la isla y quienes confluyeron en ella en épocas pasadas se tornan protagonistas, mucho más interesantes que los protagonistas originales de la novela. Es un libro importante, y hubiera querido conectarme más con su historia central.
Coincidencialmente, el libro que terminé antes de comenzar Los Cristales de la Sal fue Panza de Burro, otra novela de una autora con origen insular y que transcurre en Tenerife y, a pesar de las diferencias de forma y contenido, son impresionantes los paralelos que se trazan entre los personajes y sus islas. En uno el delirio es un volcán que consume la isla, en el otro sea come un huracán.
Coincidencialmente, el libro que terminé antes de comenzar Los Cristales de la Sal fue Panza de Burro, otra novela de una autora con origen insular y que transcurre en Tenerife y, a pesar de las diferencias de forma y contenido, son impresionantes los paralelos que se trazan entre los personajes y sus islas. En uno el delirio es un volcán que consume la isla, en el otro sea come un huracán.
June 14, 2020
Es un libro que, en lugar de cargar con la mochila del pasado místico del pasado, se propone descargar el peso y empezar a mirar las formas de san Andrés (con colores, matices), sus ritmos más reconocidos y el olor de sus cloacas, la latencia de los muertos que ya no caben en la isla y una cultura que, aunque se llama raizal, no logra anclar sus raíces a ninguna otra.
San Andrés... este libro es empaparse en sus mares (el de la basura que reboza por el turismo inconsciente -donde hasta el esposo de la vicepresidenta se pasó por el ogt la reglamentación de cantidad de pisos y de sanidad- y el de 7 colores).
San Andrés... este libro es empaparse en sus mares (el de la basura que reboza por el turismo inconsciente -donde hasta el esposo de la vicepresidenta se pasó por el ogt la reglamentación de cantidad de pisos y de sanidad- y el de 7 colores).
April 24, 2021
Que bonito leer historias colombianas que no se den en la placa continental. Es mucho lo que se aprende de esta novela, un descubrimiento cultural que te conmueve y te hace sentir culpa por tanta negligencia, desconocimiento de las riquezas del Caribe. Hay momentos hermosos y su mensaje es claro, sin embargo, siento que faltó un poco de ritmo, a veces la información y los hechos son pesados para el lector.
December 20, 2021
No me esperaba para nada el final. Es la segunda escritora Colombiana que leo y me ha gustado muchísimo. Es un texto que en la cotidianidad de la trama logra generar interés en su contenido. Cristina expone reflexiones con las que me sentí muy identificada en diferentes temas. Felicito a esta autora y recomiendo mucho el libro.
July 14, 2020
Una novela debut muy interesante, que se desarrolla en San Andrés y lo tiene como tema central. El libro nos invita a pensar en la identidad cultural, y en cómo podemos mejorar las condiciones de la isla.
May 31, 2021
El libro acompaña a una mujer en su regreso a la Ilsa de San Andrés. Reconstruir sus conocimientos sobre la Isla donde nació, termina siendo una forma de reestablecer un puente con sus padres y sus ancestros.
January 24, 2020
Quiero la versión de Roberto.
October 13, 2025
Me resultó muy interesante, y un poco chocante, esa relación de autodescubrimiento que tienen algunas personas con su territorio después de haber salido de él “voluntariamente”. Y digo “voluntariamente” entre comillas porque, además de las múltiples formas de violencia que desplazan a las personas de sus lugares, también están las motivaciones generacionales ligadas a esa idea, y construcción, de que hay que buscar un “mejor futuro”, incluso si eso implica darle la espalda a las raíces. Esa misma noción está muy vinculada a la alienación colonial con la que los territorios del Caribe colombiano fueron desarrollándose, sumada al centralismo que amplía la brecha de desigualdad y de oportunidades.
Digo esto porque el personaje de Victoria Baruq, a pesar del trauma por la muerte de sus padres, el descubrimiento de su enfermedad y su repentino interés por conocer sus raíces, nunca da la impresión de estar buscando su identidad desde dentro, sino desde la experiencia del que observa desde afuera. Cuando regresa a San Andrés, después de quince años, casi la mitad de su vida fuera, se “da cuenta” de las desventajas sociales que enfrenta la isla. La novela hace un trabajo importante al detallar esa realidad: la precarización, la corrupción, el abandono estatal, la deficiencia de los servicios básicos, el clientelismo político y las tensiones territoriales entre Colombia y Nicaragua.
A partir de la foto de uno de sus antepasados, Victoria comienza a interesarse por su origen, por cómo se formó la sociedad actual de la isla, y en esa búsqueda aflora la historia colonial, las disputas por el territorio y las luchas sociales que la población local sigue dando. Sin embargo, lo hace, y aquí está mi conflicto con el personaje, desde una mirada externa, académica, institucional. Desde los grupos cerrados, no tanto desde la comunidad, de los raizales. Y ese conflicto es también el reflejo de una realidad social: muchas luchas terminan siendo instrumentalizadas por grupos que no necesariamente representan a la comunidad que dicen defender.
La novela, eso sí, tiene imágenes bellísimas sobre la isla, que te mantienen dentro de la lectura. Pero siento que el personaje de Victoria termina desdibujando un poco el panorama más amplio de la opresión y del despojo que la historia de San Andrés lleva consigo.
Una lectura interesante, con muchos temas que ponen sobre la mesa discusiones necesarias.
Digo esto porque el personaje de Victoria Baruq, a pesar del trauma por la muerte de sus padres, el descubrimiento de su enfermedad y su repentino interés por conocer sus raíces, nunca da la impresión de estar buscando su identidad desde dentro, sino desde la experiencia del que observa desde afuera. Cuando regresa a San Andrés, después de quince años, casi la mitad de su vida fuera, se “da cuenta” de las desventajas sociales que enfrenta la isla. La novela hace un trabajo importante al detallar esa realidad: la precarización, la corrupción, el abandono estatal, la deficiencia de los servicios básicos, el clientelismo político y las tensiones territoriales entre Colombia y Nicaragua.
A partir de la foto de uno de sus antepasados, Victoria comienza a interesarse por su origen, por cómo se formó la sociedad actual de la isla, y en esa búsqueda aflora la historia colonial, las disputas por el territorio y las luchas sociales que la población local sigue dando. Sin embargo, lo hace, y aquí está mi conflicto con el personaje, desde una mirada externa, académica, institucional. Desde los grupos cerrados, no tanto desde la comunidad, de los raizales. Y ese conflicto es también el reflejo de una realidad social: muchas luchas terminan siendo instrumentalizadas por grupos que no necesariamente representan a la comunidad que dicen defender.
La novela, eso sí, tiene imágenes bellísimas sobre la isla, que te mantienen dentro de la lectura. Pero siento que el personaje de Victoria termina desdibujando un poco el panorama más amplio de la opresión y del despojo que la historia de San Andrés lleva consigo.
Una lectura interesante, con muchos temas que ponen sobre la mesa discusiones necesarias.
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June 17, 2023Me gustan los temas del libro, colonialismo, la herencia cultural y mixta de la población de San Andrés. La escritora enfoca el colonialismo desde una perspectiva diferente a la tradicional; destacando la parte negativa del colonialismo.
Es una novela histórica y no conocía esa parte de la historia de San Andrés, el libro me permitió conocer mucho sobre la historia de San Andrés, sus ciudadanos y los problemas estructurales de la isla, los cuales son ignorados por el gobierno.
Pienso que el libro se hace un poco pesado y no me engancho completamente. Pienso que el libro ofrece mucha información, pero no se puede ver la parte narrativa.
Es una novela histórica y no conocía esa parte de la historia de San Andrés, el libro me permitió conocer mucho sobre la historia de San Andrés, sus ciudadanos y los problemas estructurales de la isla, los cuales son ignorados por el gobierno.
Pienso que el libro se hace un poco pesado y no me engancho completamente. Pienso que el libro ofrece mucha información, pero no se puede ver la parte narrativa.
February 28, 2024
This is just a bad book. It lacks imagination or creative craft. It reads like a long slog of non-fiction that has no direction or rhyme and reason. This is quite literally a passive character filling in place for the author experiencing and explaining (with weird political swings) a search for self identity amidst a dull-written history of an island. Nothing feels human about it, the structure and text itself is dense and void of art, and there is no story progression through either narrative or personal development. Even the diabetes becomes boring!
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