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Recital of the Dark Verses
A masterful undertaking of historical literature, following 16th century religious fervor in a picaresque novel about Saint John of the Cross. In August 1592, a bailiff and his two assistants arrive at the monastery of Úbeda, with the secret task of transferring the body of Saint John of the Cross, the great Carmelite poet and mystic who had died the previous year, to his final abode in Segovia. When they exhume him, they find a body incorrupted and as fresh as when he died.
Thus commences a series of adventures and misfortunes, with characters that seem to be drawn from mythology. The story written by Luis Felipe Fabre masterfully intertwines with the verses of the friar, as if in them he had prophesied the delirium that would surround his own posthumous transfer. Fabre's text is a highly entertaining novel, full of a sense of humor that manages to honor the mystical poetry of the Carmelite while inviting the reader to reflect on issues such as the sacred and the profane, the body and the soul, and spiritual (and carnal) ecstasy.
Thus commences a series of adventures and misfortunes, with characters that seem to be drawn from mythology. The story written by Luis Felipe Fabre masterfully intertwines with the verses of the friar, as if in them he had prophesied the delirium that would surround his own posthumous transfer. Fabre's text is a highly entertaining novel, full of a sense of humor that manages to honor the mystical poetry of the Carmelite while inviting the reader to reflect on issues such as the sacred and the profane, the body and the soul, and spiritual (and carnal) ecstasy.
200 pages, Paperback
Published August 15, 2023
About the author
Luis Felipe Fabre
24 books53 followersLuis Felipe Fabre es un poeta, ensayista, profesor de literatura y editor mexicano. Nació en la Ciudad de México en 1974. Su obra ha sido reconocida con los premios Punto de Partida, Plural y José Revueltas.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 62 reviews
May 27, 2025
Real Rating: 4.5* of five, rounded up for reading pleasure
The Publisher Says: A masterful undertaking of historical literature, following 16th century religious fervor in a picaresque novel about Saint John of the Cross.
In August 1592, a bailiff and his two assistants arrive at the monastery of Úbeda, with the secret task of transferring the body of Saint John of the Cross, the great Carmelite poet and mystic who had died the previous year, to his final abode in Segovia. When they exhume him, they find a body incorrupted and as fresh as when he died.
Thus commences a series of adventures and misfortunes, with characters that seem to be drawn from mythology. The story written by Luis Felipe Fabre masterfully intertwines with the verses of the friar, as if in them he had prophesied the delirium that would surround his own posthumous transfer. Fabre's text is a highly entertaining novel, full of a sense of humor that manages to honor the mystical poetry of the Carmelite while inviting the reader to reflect on issues such as the sacred and the profane, the body and the soul, and spiritual (and carnal) ecstasy.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.
My Review: This is another novel inspred by actual events. Unlike Amy Chua's fictionalized take on a horrible man's murder, this is so wildly OTT from its start to its finish that I was never sure if I should be laughing as hard as I was...it was AT the inept thieves and their looney beliefs, not gently with their haplessness...or just shaking my damn head at how religion screws people up and over seven ways from Sunday. There's nothing to it, I thought. Pick it up and the snark will flow like spice from Arrakis.
I think there might really be a God, because that was so very not what happened.
This is a piercingly beautiful translation of what I'm sure is a glorious read in its native Spanish. The author's very clearly a poet...who else would've chosen St. John of the Cross, that queer-coding mystic (itself Catholic code for "weirdo we can't afford to ignore") poet, and his deeply hilarious and utterly inappropriate post-mortem heist-cum-road-trip from his monastery to Segovia, there to be enshrined until finally officially made a saint? The best part is that this is fictionalized, not fictional. This weirdness really happened! History is so very much more peculiar than fantasy. Humanity, in all its unpreditability, can't be bettered by one human's imagination. Just the bare facts of the saint's life...impoverished yet noble childhood, imprisonment and torture for being Too Much for his monastic brethren, summons by St. Teresa of Ávila (herself a mystically horny writer) to join her in founding the Discalced Carmelites.
The book is structured around verses of the saint's poetry. It is part and parcel of the reading experience. I, famously allergic to poetry, would rush right out to buy a copy of the translator's edition of St. John of the Cross's works. The reason is simple: This is, for all its mannered construction and sonorous linguistic register, the horniest stuff I've ever read that wasn't ab initio meant to be one-handed reading. Reading the quoted passages to my Young Gentleman Caller, I realized how very badly I miss having him in the same place as me. If you get my drift.
The thing that most surprised me about this read is its playfulness. Not one page doesn't contain something to raise a smile or a happy reflection. This is not something I ever expect from a story about a religious figure, though that was short-sighted of me...the mystics were by definition not religious figures but spiritual seekers co-opted by religion. The three stooges who are sent to convey the body of St. John of the Cross to Segovia are not religious figures but servants of power tasked with a temptingly valuable object's care. That the object is a body really isn't that important to them, as it wouldn't be in that time and place. Holy relics were objects to be traded, stolen, acquired, and coveted, not a person's Earthly remains. Holy people were of a different substance than mere mortals and were thus not treated in death as were us dirtballs.
This is completely part of the story. I am not religious (let go of your pearls, Mary, it's not the first time you've heard that) but am very much of the mindset that, once one's done with the meat of the body, it ought to go back to the earth that formed it. Every so often, as the posthumous indignities were wrought on John of the Cross's person, I found myself surprised into awareness that this was a person's flesh. The casual presumption that the problem with the things happening to the flesh were centered around others's claims to ownership of it, not the horror of doing these dreadful things to a person (even though a dead one) jolted me.
The prose in this translation is, to my soul's ear, exactly right in its register of formal, mildly archaic, still fluidly readable English. Different enough to give the effect of listening to someone with a beautiful voice speaking to you in foreigner's English...a thing I myownself enjoy...but not to everyone's taste, I know. Be aware of this fact before buying...the Kindle edition, available the tenth of October, allows one to try a sample before buying and the sensitive-to-Otherness would do well to try before committing to ownership. Alternatively, an excerpt appeared on the LitHub website.
One aspect of the English read that I found extra-pleasurable was the mental image of reading a translation of a story about a Translation was quite piquant. It's one of the more rareified pleasures of reading translations, but a deep one. In general, the Anglophone world sees little appeal in reading translated literature. This really is never more sad to me than when discovering an imagination as agile and as horny as Author Fabre's is. This story, fact-based as it is, should be on everyone's radar. The pleasures of being in the deeply, delightedly earthy and Earthly company of the three men who Translate the holy remains (though not wholly, pun intended) as they discover themselves and their Otherness in his company are readily available to you thanks to Translator Cleary and Deep Vellum.
No less a luminary than Valeria Luiselli (Lost Children Archive, The Story of My Teeth) thinks this book should make waves among Anglophone readers. Happen I agree. It certainly should, and let it start with you.
*hyperlinks to sources in the blogged version
The Publisher Says: A masterful undertaking of historical literature, following 16th century religious fervor in a picaresque novel about Saint John of the Cross.
In August 1592, a bailiff and his two assistants arrive at the monastery of Úbeda, with the secret task of transferring the body of Saint John of the Cross, the great Carmelite poet and mystic who had died the previous year, to his final abode in Segovia. When they exhume him, they find a body incorrupted and as fresh as when he died.
Thus commences a series of adventures and misfortunes, with characters that seem to be drawn from mythology. The story written by Luis Felipe Fabre masterfully intertwines with the verses of the friar, as if in them he had prophesied the delirium that would surround his own posthumous transfer. Fabre's text is a highly entertaining novel, full of a sense of humor that manages to honor the mystical poetry of the Carmelite while inviting the reader to reflect on issues such as the sacred and the profane, the body and the soul, and spiritual (and carnal) ecstasy.
I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.
My Review: This is another novel inspred by actual events. Unlike Amy Chua's fictionalized take on a horrible man's murder, this is so wildly OTT from its start to its finish that I was never sure if I should be laughing as hard as I was...it was AT the inept thieves and their looney beliefs, not gently with their haplessness...or just shaking my damn head at how religion screws people up and over seven ways from Sunday. There's nothing to it, I thought. Pick it up and the snark will flow like spice from Arrakis.
I think there might really be a God, because that was so very not what happened.
This is a piercingly beautiful translation of what I'm sure is a glorious read in its native Spanish. The author's very clearly a poet...who else would've chosen St. John of the Cross, that queer-coding mystic (itself Catholic code for "weirdo we can't afford to ignore") poet, and his deeply hilarious and utterly inappropriate post-mortem heist-cum-road-trip from his monastery to Segovia, there to be enshrined until finally officially made a saint? The best part is that this is fictionalized, not fictional. This weirdness really happened! History is so very much more peculiar than fantasy. Humanity, in all its unpreditability, can't be bettered by one human's imagination. Just the bare facts of the saint's life...impoverished yet noble childhood, imprisonment and torture for being Too Much for his monastic brethren, summons by St. Teresa of Ávila (herself a mystically horny writer) to join her in founding the Discalced Carmelites.
The book is structured around verses of the saint's poetry. It is part and parcel of the reading experience. I, famously allergic to poetry, would rush right out to buy a copy of the translator's edition of St. John of the Cross's works. The reason is simple: This is, for all its mannered construction and sonorous linguistic register, the horniest stuff I've ever read that wasn't ab initio meant to be one-handed reading. Reading the quoted passages to my Young Gentleman Caller, I realized how very badly I miss having him in the same place as me. If you get my drift.
The thing that most surprised me about this read is its playfulness. Not one page doesn't contain something to raise a smile or a happy reflection. This is not something I ever expect from a story about a religious figure, though that was short-sighted of me...the mystics were by definition not religious figures but spiritual seekers co-opted by religion. The three stooges who are sent to convey the body of St. John of the Cross to Segovia are not religious figures but servants of power tasked with a temptingly valuable object's care. That the object is a body really isn't that important to them, as it wouldn't be in that time and place. Holy relics were objects to be traded, stolen, acquired, and coveted, not a person's Earthly remains. Holy people were of a different substance than mere mortals and were thus not treated in death as were us dirtballs.
This is completely part of the story. I am not religious (let go of your pearls, Mary, it's not the first time you've heard that) but am very much of the mindset that, once one's done with the meat of the body, it ought to go back to the earth that formed it. Every so often, as the posthumous indignities were wrought on John of the Cross's person, I found myself surprised into awareness that this was a person's flesh. The casual presumption that the problem with the things happening to the flesh were centered around others's claims to ownership of it, not the horror of doing these dreadful things to a person (even though a dead one) jolted me.
The prose in this translation is, to my soul's ear, exactly right in its register of formal, mildly archaic, still fluidly readable English. Different enough to give the effect of listening to someone with a beautiful voice speaking to you in foreigner's English...a thing I myownself enjoy...but not to everyone's taste, I know. Be aware of this fact before buying...the Kindle edition, available the tenth of October, allows one to try a sample before buying and the sensitive-to-Otherness would do well to try before committing to ownership. Alternatively, an excerpt appeared on the LitHub website.
One aspect of the English read that I found extra-pleasurable was the mental image of reading a translation of a story about a Translation was quite piquant. It's one of the more rareified pleasures of reading translations, but a deep one. In general, the Anglophone world sees little appeal in reading translated literature. This really is never more sad to me than when discovering an imagination as agile and as horny as Author Fabre's is. This story, fact-based as it is, should be on everyone's radar. The pleasures of being in the deeply, delightedly earthy and Earthly company of the three men who Translate the holy remains (though not wholly, pun intended) as they discover themselves and their Otherness in his company are readily available to you thanks to Translator Cleary and Deep Vellum.
No less a luminary than Valeria Luiselli (Lost Children Archive, The Story of My Teeth) thinks this book should make waves among Anglophone readers. Happen I agree. It certainly should, and let it start with you.
*hyperlinks to sources in the blogged version
March 23, 2020
Me declaro fan de Fabre, como poeta, como performer, como ensayista, y ahora como novelista.
Es furiosamente original, sabe nadar en el lenguaje y lo hace increíble en esta ficción que nos lleva a unas lejanas épocas en donde la gente se volvía loca por el cuerpo de un místico, y su manera de contarlo es original y sexy, porque si lo piensas, el gran protagonista de la historia es
el cuerpo de San Juan de la Cruz, ese cuerpo deseado, aunque sea por partes, que además, para sumarle más atractivo, huele increíble. (me encanta que meta el
Sentido del olfato también!)
Por último tengo que resaltar la presencia de la oscuridad durante toda la historia, que contada de la manera como lo hace, es pura poesía, locura, alucinaciones varias, y lenguas cortadas. Una maravilla. Hasta los guiños al presente que hace son maravillosos. Fabre es de mis favoritos mexicanos actuales sin duda. Y en estos momentos, en donde el cuerpo es un poco lo temido, su novela, que tiene tanto que ver con lo físico, es una delicia.
Es furiosamente original, sabe nadar en el lenguaje y lo hace increíble en esta ficción que nos lleva a unas lejanas épocas en donde la gente se volvía loca por el cuerpo de un místico, y su manera de contarlo es original y sexy, porque si lo piensas, el gran protagonista de la historia es
el cuerpo de San Juan de la Cruz, ese cuerpo deseado, aunque sea por partes, que además, para sumarle más atractivo, huele increíble. (me encanta que meta el
Sentido del olfato también!)
Por último tengo que resaltar la presencia de la oscuridad durante toda la historia, que contada de la manera como lo hace, es pura poesía, locura, alucinaciones varias, y lenguas cortadas. Una maravilla. Hasta los guiños al presente que hace son maravillosos. Fabre es de mis favoritos mexicanos actuales sin duda. Y en estos momentos, en donde el cuerpo es un poco lo temido, su novela, que tiene tanto que ver con lo físico, es una delicia.
March 24, 2024
4,5
This is something special: a lyrical and comic road novel set in 16th century Spain. Three men set out to bring the body of Saint John of the Cross from Úbeda, in the South of Spain, to Segovia, close to Madrid. A perilous nocturnal journey full of adventures.
But what makes this wonderful (and fun!) book stand out is the fact that Fabre - who is a Spanish poet, just as Saint John was - uses John of the Cross' verses to tell the story. I am not a Catholic and was not familiar with his work, but the verses are romantic in the style of the Song of Songs (e.g. the two lovers representing the Soul and Jesus).
Every chapter starts with a verse and explains how the adventures of the three men coincide with the text.
This must have been an incredibly complex puzzle to translate as the original text of the verse must be aligned with Fabre's invented plot around the true story of the 'translatio' of the body.
But the translator Heather Cleary pulls it off brilliantly and it works very well also in English.
This is something special: a lyrical and comic road novel set in 16th century Spain. Three men set out to bring the body of Saint John of the Cross from Úbeda, in the South of Spain, to Segovia, close to Madrid. A perilous nocturnal journey full of adventures.
But what makes this wonderful (and fun!) book stand out is the fact that Fabre - who is a Spanish poet, just as Saint John was - uses John of the Cross' verses to tell the story. I am not a Catholic and was not familiar with his work, but the verses are romantic in the style of the Song of Songs (e.g. the two lovers representing the Soul and Jesus).
Every chapter starts with a verse and explains how the adventures of the three men coincide with the text.
This must have been an incredibly complex puzzle to translate as the original text of the verse must be aligned with Fabre's invented plot around the true story of the 'translatio' of the body.
But the translator Heather Cleary pulls it off brilliantly and it works very well also in English.
November 7, 2023
What a weird & wonderful book.
At times, it felt almost absurdist (& yet some of those elements were based on historical record). Because of that I veered quite close to feeling annoyed a few times & then the story would move in a different direction & I remained entranced. Slightly aggravating, but always strange & funny.
I feel like it perfectly encapsulated the sometimes completely unfathomable worlds of poetry, religion, relics, road trips, faith, fervor, carnality, crudeness, love, & language in all their unique & overlapping, undulating ways. (And in their non-overlapping ways too.)
I had a smile on my face as I finished the book.
At times, it felt almost absurdist (& yet some of those elements were based on historical record). Because of that I veered quite close to feeling annoyed a few times & then the story would move in a different direction & I remained entranced. Slightly aggravating, but always strange & funny.
I feel like it perfectly encapsulated the sometimes completely unfathomable worlds of poetry, religion, relics, road trips, faith, fervor, carnality, crudeness, love, & language in all their unique & overlapping, undulating ways. (And in their non-overlapping ways too.)
I had a smile on my face as I finished the book.
November 14, 2023
I'm sure that many of the Christian references went by me completely at the start, but that didn't bother me - this book has so many literary referents and draws from so many comedic strains (emphasis on the ribald) that I'm sure I caught more than I missed. I recommend reading the terrific translator's preface after reading the book - I liked experiencing the book as a total innocent, wisening up quickly, along with the bailiff and Ferran (if not poor Diego). The book taught me how to read it pretty quickly. The language is delicious, even in translation, even suspecting how much I am missing in the interplay between the poet's words and Fabre/Cleary's. But the narrator gives some facetious clues, as in this passage from a short exegesis of San Juan's poetry:
Funny on its own, but even more so knowing that darkness, secrets, swellings, surfeits and stags all weave through this surreal roadtrip.
....these verses, being so secret and of such swelled and surfeit sense, do they from their commentary flee like the stag in flight, and from the comprehension of Ferran and the bailiff do they escape, and only scarcely and in darkness do they to their glossing acquiesce.
Funny on its own, but even more so knowing that darkness, secrets, swellings, surfeits and stags all weave through this surreal roadtrip.
November 10, 2023
Its a hot August in 1592 in Úbeda in Andalucia as a bailiff and two recruited civil servants, Ferran and Diego, arrive at a monastery for a secret mission, to transfer the body of Saint John of the Cross, Fray Juan de la Cruz, the great Carmelite poet and mystic, who had died the previous year, to his final resting place in Segovia.
Surprisingly, this is a story based heavily on actual events.
The three bungling thieves must travel only under the cloak of darkness, and in a fast-paced narrative, brief respites given only by the characters' repartee, encounter devils, ghouls, drunks and debauchery in what in effect could be termed either a road-trip, or a heist novel.
On exhumation of the poet's body, they find a body unblemished and as fresh as when he died, with blood still flowing. The aroma captivates anyone close enough to get a whiff.
Above all, this is a bawdy slapstick comedy, enhanced greatly by the characters of Ferran and Diego.
The chapters are short, and the action is rapid, leaving the reader wanting more by way of explanation, but as much as that is a criticism, it is a strength, because the reader is in the same boat as Ferran and Diego; still trying to grasp what just happened.
Its Python-esque, but brought up to date, and behind all the riotous vulgarity, it is a witty commentary on the verse of one of Spain’s most important poets.
Surprisingly, this is a story based heavily on actual events.
The three bungling thieves must travel only under the cloak of darkness, and in a fast-paced narrative, brief respites given only by the characters' repartee, encounter devils, ghouls, drunks and debauchery in what in effect could be termed either a road-trip, or a heist novel.
On exhumation of the poet's body, they find a body unblemished and as fresh as when he died, with blood still flowing. The aroma captivates anyone close enough to get a whiff.
Above all, this is a bawdy slapstick comedy, enhanced greatly by the characters of Ferran and Diego.
The chapters are short, and the action is rapid, leaving the reader wanting more by way of explanation, but as much as that is a criticism, it is a strength, because the reader is in the same boat as Ferran and Diego; still trying to grasp what just happened.
Its Python-esque, but brought up to date, and behind all the riotous vulgarity, it is a witty commentary on the verse of one of Spain’s most important poets.
August 9, 2020
Una novela sobre el viaje de un cuerpo deseado. El cuerpo del futuro santo se convierte en aroma, que se convierte en poesía. La novela, que también podría ser santa o aroma, también se convierte en poesía, y también en un viaje sobre el deseo, pero también un viaje de punto a a punto b, o de verso a a verso b, o de canto a a canto b.
July 30, 2024
Drawing on the writings of Saint John of the Cross and the legends and facts(?) surrounding his death and the transfer of his body from Ubeda where he died and Segovia where his head and torso rest to this day, this comic novella mixes philosophy, adventure and a healthy amount of bawdy humour. Not only does Luis Felipe Faber incorporate a measure of truth, insofar as it is known from various historical sources, but he plays with language to evoke an archaic feel in the original Spanish. The translator, Heather Cleary, in turn adjusts the word order in her English version to echo this antiquated tone. The result is a fun tale that raises serious questions about faith, the spirit and the body.
A longer review can be found here: https://roughghosts.com/2024/07/30/an...
A longer review can be found here: https://roughghosts.com/2024/07/30/an...
February 27, 2025
Que gran experiencia lectora 🙌🏻
Este libro se aleja completamente de lo que usualmente leo y por eso, se sintió como algo fresco toparme con temas tan interesantes como lo son el cuerpo, la noche y la nada. A través del viaje que llevan a cabo los personajes, nos encontramos con otros que van haciendo que la historia se sienta casi cómica en algunos momentos.
Eso sí, el tema de la otredad y lo que ocurre ante la oscuridad donde las cosas parecen ser más honestas que lo que ocurre en la luz me fascinó.
Dejo como comentario que la experiencia del audiolibro fue increíble e hizo que mi experiencia se sienta más redonda.
Este libro se aleja completamente de lo que usualmente leo y por eso, se sintió como algo fresco toparme con temas tan interesantes como lo son el cuerpo, la noche y la nada. A través del viaje que llevan a cabo los personajes, nos encontramos con otros que van haciendo que la historia se sienta casi cómica en algunos momentos.
Eso sí, el tema de la otredad y lo que ocurre ante la oscuridad donde las cosas parecen ser más honestas que lo que ocurre en la luz me fascinó.
Dejo como comentario que la experiencia del audiolibro fue increíble e hizo que mi experiencia se sienta más redonda.
June 19, 2025
What a delightfully unusual novel. As a recovering Renaissance-era scholar, it felt oh so comfortable to be with these characters in these settings. Even so, this novel felt like wandering through a dream, a situation in which the main characters often find themselves. The journey is truly what matters here, not the destination, because the journey turns into a series of destinations (for Fray Juan) and the journey reveals so much about the three characters and what may await them in the future. It made me want to go back and reread San Juan de la Cruz’s writing.
Cleary does an amazing job translating this—the language is ever so deftly archaic without feeling overdone, the translations of San Juan’s work are great, and by the end both the reader and the characters are just overwhelmed.
This is the beloved’s world, and we (the baliff, Ferrán, Diego, Ana, Fray Juan, the translator, the reader) are all just living in it.
Cleary does an amazing job translating this—the language is ever so deftly archaic without feeling overdone, the translations of San Juan’s work are great, and by the end both the reader and the characters are just overwhelmed.
This is the beloved’s world, and we (the baliff, Ferrán, Diego, Ana, Fray Juan, the translator, the reader) are all just living in it.
July 3, 2024
Precioso
Aplausos
Bellísimo
Hasta graciosos
Chulada
Copla tras copla, tenía mucho esperando encontrar un libro así escrito, aquí un cachito de los mucho que encontraran.
Nada…
Cientos de páginas declarando nada,
Páginas y páginas de ese subido saber no sabiendo,
de comunicar sin decir,
y de decir no diciendo.
Como si hubiese desatado a las palabras,
para que se ahuyentasen
según su particular albedrío
y concierto.
Y así luego comunicase
la lengua su secreto
que al final no es otro sino ninguno
¿Sigues lo que estoy diciendo, hijo mío?
Joya , 💎 , zafiro.
Aplausos
Bellísimo
Hasta graciosos
Chulada
Copla tras copla, tenía mucho esperando encontrar un libro así escrito, aquí un cachito de los mucho que encontraran.
Nada…
Cientos de páginas declarando nada,
Páginas y páginas de ese subido saber no sabiendo,
de comunicar sin decir,
y de decir no diciendo.
Como si hubiese desatado a las palabras,
para que se ahuyentasen
según su particular albedrío
y concierto.
Y así luego comunicase
la lengua su secreto
que al final no es otro sino ninguno
¿Sigues lo que estoy diciendo, hijo mío?
Joya , 💎 , zafiro.
October 11, 2023
Sacred and profane!
February 22, 2024
4.5
What a fun quick read along the lines of Don Quixote. I rarely find myself giggling at a book but the writing style and characters made for a funny little romp through the Spanish countryside.
What a fun quick read along the lines of Don Quixote. I rarely find myself giggling at a book but the writing style and characters made for a funny little romp through the Spanish countryside.
June 25, 2020
En una noche de diciembre de 1591, Fray Juan de la Cruz muere en el Convento de Úbeda. Meses después, el Convento de los Carmelitas Descalzos de Segovia reclamaría su cuerpo. Así daría inicio una larga disputa religiosa que tendría como resultado no solo la mutilación del cadáver del santo, sino su resuelta santificación y también su mitificación literaria. Declaración de las canciones oscuras inserta su narración aquí: es la historia de un viaje tanto en un plano terrenal y corporal como en uno sobrenatural. Alrededor de este relato religioso surgen algunos misterios que bien podría llamar míticos y poéticos, este último vinculado a lo místico-erótico en la obra del santo poeta. En este orden me gustaría explorar la novela de Luis Felipe Fabre.
Al momento de exhumar a San Juan de la Cruz, su cuerpo yace incorrupto, casi como el día en que falleció. Su olor despierta una embriaguez fervorosa en el convento, como menciona el portero del lugar: “El aromado escándalo de su cuerpo. El perfume de la santidad. Un olor suavísimo que despierta en las almas ansias, furores, ardores” (19). Ciertamente, durante el entierro de San Juan, las almas sensibles de la gente de Úbeda son las primeras en reclamar su “tajada de santo” en claro éxtasis por la fragancia de divinidad que emana del cadáver, “embriagados de aquel celestial olor”. Partícipes del convivio, las personas reclaman su pedazo del milagro: pelos, uñas, pedazos de oreja. El cuerpo es el convivio. La idea del desmembramiento del santo atravesará toda la Declaración de las canciones oscuras: al principio, el alguacil cortará un dedo y lo ofrecerá a doña Ana Peñalosa, quien lo portará como un amuleto cerca de su pecho; después los monjes del convento de Úbeda reclamarán un brazo del santo; finalmente, el santo perderá el otro brazo (o el pie, no se sabe con seguridad) en un trance erótico-místico de doña Ana (que retomaré en seguida).
En un sentido mítico, la orgía que despierta el aroma del santo me recuerda a la figura de Orfeo, quien es desmembrado por las ménades por razones similares: Orfeo es un poeta cercano a la divinidad, así como lo fue San Juan de la Cruz. El misterio del cuerpo de San Juan, su fragancia extra-corporal, provoca en los personajes la necesidad mística y erótica de la mutilación. Recordando a Bataille, el erotismo suele convocar la violencia de los cuerpos, cuyo clímax último es la destrucción del cuerpo amado.
En la novela hay un llamado directo al mito de Dioniso, divinidad encargada de la embriaguez que despierta pasiones mutiladoras: “Dioniso, el que despierta extrañas ansias y demencias y desmesuras y que con el vino y los cantos y las danzas arrebata en éxtasis a las gentes y enciende en las mujeres los furores del descuartizamiento y a los hombres incita a vestirse de mujeres” (81). Siguiendo esta pista, San Juan también encarnaría la figura dionisiaca que provoca “demencias y desmesuras”, así como arrebatos poéticos cuyo éxtasis desemboca en su propio desmembramiento o en la idea del delirio, como sucede en varias ocasiones con Diego, un joven inseguro mas curioso que será poseído el espíritu poético de San Juan, así como por un deseo homoerótico al final de la novela: “De miedo, de heridas, de fiebre, de hambre, de sed, de fatiga, de amor deliraba Diego […] Era con las liras del fraile que deliraba y aún sin conocerlas y como venidas de un antiguo y ajeno olvido o noche o corazón” (103).
Ciertamente en Declaración de las canciones oscuras hay un llamado a lo nocturno. Gran parte del viaje acontece en el refugio que la noche ofrece a los personajes. Es esta novela, de hecho, un relato sobre lo nocturno en la obra de San Juan: el gran misterio divino, que despierta la memoria y la pulsión erótica, pero además donde existe la tentación y lo perverso. Al principio de su viaje, los personajes confrontan a la oscuridad que bien podría interpretarse aquí como una presencia aterradora: “Tuvo entonces el alguacil por cierto que quien así les hablaba tan sin figura en la oscuridad era la oscuridad misma, la noche en persona, el príncipe de las tinieblas” (51). No obstante, podría representar también la idea de la voz y que se inspira precisamente en el misterio, en la búsqueda de la luz, como ella misma resuelve antes de despedirse del alguacil, Ferrán y Diego: “Sólo la luz que arde en el corazón podrá, si acaso, serviros de guía. Mas sabe bien el demonio que de entre la de todos los astros y fuegos y centellas no hay luz más engañosa que la que emana del corazón del hombre” (51).
El misterio de la noche se traduce en la novela no solo en la inspiración divina, sino en la representación absoluta de la nada, del vacío. En las reflexiones que los personajes apuntan entorno al misterio de la obra poética de San Juan, la monja Ana recuerda que el santo mismo admitió que su obra trataba de nada: “Cientos de páginas declarando nada, páginas y páginas de ese subido saber no sabiendo, de comunicar sin decir y de decir no diciendo” (139). La empresa de San Juan fue buscar un lenguaje humano para su experiencia con Dios. Sus mejores poemas logran entablar un diálogo con el misterio, la oscuridad y la incertidumbre. Son poemas sobre la pasión, una pasión desmedida, erótica y espiritual. Uno podría aventurar que no son poemas de San Juan. Él es solo un inspirado, un mediador del lenguaje de Dios, si es que Dios alguna vez habló por boca humana, si es que alguna vez Dios pensó que todo erotismo es místico y sagrado. Más que ser poemas sobre nada, en la novela se apunta otra reflexión: “la mística se sabe por amor” (p.139). San Juan buscaba la perfección en Dios y en el poema: la encuentra en el amor y en el vacío y oscuridad en el que desemboca ese amor.
Del uno al diez: N u e v e.
March 3, 2026
Qué quimera es estaaa. No sabría cómo empezar a describir este libro. ¿Una novedad colonial? ¿Un desmembramiento literario? ¿Un cuerpo de santo en forma de texto?
El estilo, el ritmo, los personajes tan chuscos, la documentación tan rigurosa... todo ello y más construye esta novela sobre la exhumación de San Juan de la Cruz y la presenta como una fresca reescrituta de la literatura hispánica del siglo XVI.
Rara, cautivadora y originalísima.
El estilo, el ritmo, los personajes tan chuscos, la documentación tan rigurosa... todo ello y más construye esta novela sobre la exhumación de San Juan de la Cruz y la presenta como una fresca reescrituta de la literatura hispánica del siglo XVI.
Rara, cautivadora y originalísima.
December 4, 2021
No sé si estoy viendo lo que veo, o creyendo que veo, estoy frente a una visión oscura que ilumina.
Algo que creo que no se dice tanto es que Fabre tiene un muy buen sentido del humor, de a carcajadas.
Algo que creo que no se dice tanto es que Fabre tiene un muy buen sentido del humor, de a carcajadas.
July 17, 2025
Creo que «El mudejarillo», de José Jiménez Lozano, y esta novela del autor de «La sodomía en la Nueva España» conforman un bellísimo díptico. Esta novela, como la de Jiménez Lozano, es obra de un virtuoso de la lengua.
October 15, 2025
~7/10
An absurd, darkly comic, lyrical, and lascivious retelling of an already absurd true story, wherein three men must transport the body of a saint across 16th-century Spain. Rosencrantz /Guildenstern-adjacent. Mostly dazzling, a lot of fun.
An absurd, darkly comic, lyrical, and lascivious retelling of an already absurd true story, wherein three men must transport the body of a saint across 16th-century Spain. Rosencrantz /Guildenstern-adjacent. Mostly dazzling, a lot of fun.
April 28, 2022
uff, me costó terminarlo, pero está chido, es extrañamente divertido, jeje.
July 10, 2024
sigo un poco boquiabierto. muy bueno, muy chistoso, muy fuerte y muy inesperado.
October 14, 2024
Odd book that felt like a fever dream. Probably would have been more coherent if I was more familiar with the works of poetry from the book the guy is about, but that didn't stop me from enjoying it.
December 18, 2023
I am going to read this book. And again. And again. Then pour my heart out in a review. FYI.
July 15, 2025
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 28, 2022
3.5 Estrellas. Muy interesante ejercicio estilístico que parte de la poesía de Fray Juan de la Cruz para entretejer una historia en la que conviven una "road novel" emparentada con el Quijote con la picaresca del Lazarillo de Tormes y momentos de un absurdo total con escenas de diálogo dignas de Samuel Beckett pero en castizo. Demanda mucho del lector, sobre todo a partir de que se cumplen las dos terceras partes y hasta el propio autor reconoce que el texto se está haciendo pesado en un capítulo en el que literalmente nada pasa. Tengo la sensación de que al final, el libro se le salió un poco de control. Aún así, lo remata con gracia y una gran frase. Ni lo piensen si lo que buscan es una lectura ligerita. Requiere concentración y perseverancia.
July 19, 2021
Qué de nombres de príncipes y grandes señoras y condes insignes y altos prelados esgrimía el alguacil entre los cuales el prior apenas alcanzó a reconocer el del muy humilde y muy venerable y muy problemático y muy sospechoso y muy fastidioso y muy fatigoso fray Juan de la Cruz.
July 19, 2021
«Y vámonos a ver tu hermosura»
El deseo es santo.
El deseo es santo.
April 12, 2023
Una genialidad.
August 22, 2024
Seducido. Por fin entendí a las viejas cuando hablaban de los misterios gozosos en los rosarios de mi niñez. Me reconocí en Diego, me erotizó Ferran, pero sobre todo me enamoré de Fabre.
January 27, 2024
Esta novela tiene una premisa que parece de estas películas donde tienen que hacer el robo del siglo. Solo que aquí intentan llevarse el cuerpo del poeta y místico San Juan de la Cruz, que aún muerto tiene olor de santidad. Tres personajes con sus propias motivaciones intentarán llevarlo en una maleta, pero se van a topar con muchas dificultades.
Todo esto se narra con ese lenguaje tan florido y barroco del siglo de oro español. Desde unos subtítulos larguísimos, que ya no solo dan una idea de lo que viene a continuación, sino que son en sí mismos una propia exploración y estiramiento de la prosa, hasta rebuscados y poéticos pasajes a los que uno debe prestarle mucha atención o simplemente dejarse embelesar por su complejidad y belleza.
Pero es que además esta novela tiene un humor que se parece en simpleza a la de Cervantes, con juegos de palabras o de sinrazones y atrevimientos de interpretación de la poesía de San Juan de la Cruz, al que incluso se le llega a considerar sodomita. Y ya varios han escrito sobre el cuerpo que se convierte en deseo, ya sea por asuntos puramente religiosos o por fetichismo. Es la muerte erotizada, pero en este caso de forma metafísica, casi platónica.
Un ejercicio magistral de reinterpretación y uso de lenguaje antiguo, todo se hace tan presente que apela a los lectores de este siglo. Esta es la maravilla de las novelas históricas, las que apuestas por algo más allá de la veracidad y se atreven a imaginar o especular hechos distintos.
Todo esto se narra con ese lenguaje tan florido y barroco del siglo de oro español. Desde unos subtítulos larguísimos, que ya no solo dan una idea de lo que viene a continuación, sino que son en sí mismos una propia exploración y estiramiento de la prosa, hasta rebuscados y poéticos pasajes a los que uno debe prestarle mucha atención o simplemente dejarse embelesar por su complejidad y belleza.
Pero es que además esta novela tiene un humor que se parece en simpleza a la de Cervantes, con juegos de palabras o de sinrazones y atrevimientos de interpretación de la poesía de San Juan de la Cruz, al que incluso se le llega a considerar sodomita. Y ya varios han escrito sobre el cuerpo que se convierte en deseo, ya sea por asuntos puramente religiosos o por fetichismo. Es la muerte erotizada, pero en este caso de forma metafísica, casi platónica.
Un ejercicio magistral de reinterpretación y uso de lenguaje antiguo, todo se hace tan presente que apela a los lectores de este siglo. Esta es la maravilla de las novelas históricas, las que apuestas por algo más allá de la veracidad y se atreven a imaginar o especular hechos distintos.
July 22, 2020
Fabre es un magnífico poeta y ensayista, también novelista. Con este libro sitúa perfectamente a los personajes que buscan trasladar a Madrid el cuerpo incorrupto de Fray Juan de la Cruz en una época y ambiente que se recrea en todo su lenguaje. Es maravilloso cómo se sirve de algunos versos de Fray Juan para llevar la narración, cómo consigue dotar de sensualidad un relato que se desenvuelve en la noche, la penumbra, lo oscuro, cómo aparecen seres extraños y en algunos casos perturbadores con escenas salidas algunas veces de la ensoñación y de la confusión. Los personajes están bien estructurados y no dejan de tener guiños naturales a lo que Fabre nos tiene acostumbrados con su estilo poético.
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