Not Even the Dead

by Juan Gómez Bárcena, Katie Whittemore (Translator)

Not Even the Dead is the story of a pursuit that transcends territories and centuries; a hallucinatory journey from 1500s colonial Mexico to Trump’s Border Wall   The conquest of Mexico is over, and Juan de Toñanes is just one of the many inglorious soldiers eking a small existence on the land he helped conquer. When he receives one last mission, to hunt down a renegade Indian who calls himself the Padre and preaches a dangerous heresy, Juan realizes it may be his last chance to create the future he’s always dreamed of. But as he moves deep into the unexplored northern territory, hot on the Padre’s trail, Juan discovers the traces of a man who appears to be, in fact, a prophet destined to transform his own time, and possibly future to come. On his quest, Juan will encounter old conquistadors on horseback and migrants riding the roofs of the trains, rebellious Indians and peasants waiting patiently for a better world, Mexican revolutionaries brandishing their rifles and women murdered in the desert of Ciudad Juárez, all sharing the same landscape and the same that the arrival of the Padre will bring ever elusive justice to the oppressed.

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Spain, Literature, Spanish Literature, Magical Realism, Religion

309 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2020

About the author

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

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

Reviews

[Álvaro · Rating 4 out of 5]

3 y pico , que redondeo a 4.

Es un libro tremendamente irregular.

Sin duda, lo mejor es el estilo de Juan Gómez; Un escritura elegante , bella y poética. Me gustan sus aliteraciones, me gusta que repita palabras, frases, e incluso párrafos enteros en diferentes partes del texto, que se leen y perciben distintas, y que convierten en ocasiones el texto en un lugar conocido, en una oración recitada.
Creo que es un escritor con un talento técnico deslumbrante.

Su anterior libro, Kanadá, me encantó -en general es mejor que este-, y si bien en este último creo que su prosa se ha perfilado y enriquecido, a mí me ha parecido que la "trama" no es tan redonda y que hay una (buena) parte en la que se pierde, y le cuesta recuperarse. Según creo entender, el libro ha sido escrito "a cachos" y eso se nota en la continuidad -en la continuidad en todos sus aspectos.

Empieza sobrio, conciso realista, y con una trama definida e identificable, y a medida que acompañamos al protagonista en su -alucinada- búsqueda, a lo largo del espacio y del tiempo, la trama se va diluyendo y haciendo abstracta -cercana por momentos a la de La Torre Oscura de King-. Habla de México, habla de la búsqueda de un hombre, de la búsqueda de uno mismo, de las figuras de poder, de las mujeres, de los inmigrantes...quizá trata de hablar de demasiadas cosas.

La primera mitad es muy, muy buena, pero las siguientes 100 páginas, las de la revolución mejicana son un bajón de trama, de ritmo y de estilo -al punto de casi hacerme abandonar-, recuperando parcialmente el pulso perdido cuando la historia llega a nuestros días, pero sin llegar a alcanzar en ningún caso el nivel de la primera parte -que es la responsable de que tenga 4 estrellas y no 3.

Un libro recomendable, al que quizá le sobran 100 páginas para ser brillante, y que se queda en "bastante bueno".

Hay que seguir a este escritor, ya que sigue prometiendo un novelón, se nota que lo tiene dentro, quizá le pediríamos si nos estuviese escuchando algo más concreción , algo más de concentración.

[Leif Quinlan · Rating 4 out of 5]

A history of the Mexican collision with imperialism, religious influence, social manipulation, systemic poverty, and exploitation of power. As much as I respected Not Even the Dead, it was tiring to read. The complete piece is very good and there are parts that stand out (the final sections during modern times especially) but the experience of reading was difficult at times. 300 pages of dense, plotless preaching took its toll
I am a fan of Barcena's writing and the story felt important but it is work
I don't mean to be ungenerous, I wouldn't have changed this book in any way as I believe that Barcena treated the material with the seriousness that it deserves, I only mean to point out that Not Even the Dead is work

[Susana · Rating 3 out of 5]

Al empezar pensé que esta historia realmente era una de detectives en el Nuevo México y estaba fascinada. Cuando se transformó en un Orlando a la mexicana también me pareció bien, porque nada necesitamos más que novelas ambiciosas. Pero al final, la saga sobre la evolución de la historia de México, por más bien escrita que está, acaba por abusar de su estatuto de metáfora. Cuatrocientas páginas de símbolos en vez de personajes, de palabras que avanzan solas abandonando ya toda excusa de trama... se hacen difíciles. Con todo, los destellos finales del México moderno y los feminicidios son magníficos, y en general da gusto leer una obra tan original y bella. Me quedo con muchas ganas de seguir leyendo a Bárcena.

[César]

Hace días leía en no sé qué sitio que el futuro es un extraño lugar. Un lugar que solemos imaginar virgen y lleno de posibilidades. Lo que hoy conocemos como América, lo que en el pasado fue llamado Nueva España, las Indias, el Nuevo Mundo, etc., fue la materialización geográfica del futuro. Pero eso que imaginamos virgen y pleno de posibilidades nunca es tal. El pasado, la tradición, configura de forma determinante ese lugar al que llamamos futuro. Y los lugares a los que una vez llamamos futuro tuvieron su propio pasado. De la colisión de ambos pasados nacen los futuros de los lugares recién descubiertos: vírgenes para unos, ancestral hogar para otros. Ambos, caras de una misma moneda.

Un mundo donde lo español ha acabado imponiéndose de alguna forma pero lo ha hecho sobre los cimientos de lo indígena, como un eco que se resiste a silenciarse por completo.

Tiempo y espacio son lo mismo en la novela. Se recorren libremente y al unísono. Cabalgar hacia el norte es avanzar sobre el tiempo, a veces adelantándolo. El sur es la vuelta al pasado, el retroceso hacia los orígenes. Entre las dos direcciones se abre la historia de México. Progreso e Historia.

"El tiempo es algo que se camina"

Ni siquiera los muertos es un western –hay un comienzo de capítulo que calca la célebre escena con la que comienza Hasta que llegó su hora y algún pasaje que recuerda poderosamente a Cormac McCarthy- donde la repetición y la circularidad, los paralelismos y los juegos de espejos, son las notas dominantes. Junto a estas características destacan igualmente las referencias bíblicas, sobre todo neotestamentarias: el símbolo de la cruz, la figura de Cristo, los apóstoles, etc.

Es como nosotros: no tiene otra madre que la tierra ni otro padre más que el sudor. Su nombre es el nombre de todos (…) La tierra es solo una y los hombres son uno solo también.

Juan de Toñanes, un viejo soldado español veterano de la conquista mexicana, recibe un encargo: dar caza al indio Juan, figura a la fuga que parece haber cometido un capital delito. A medida que la persecución avanza, con ella avanza el tiempo. El indio Juan, al inicio una especie de maestro espiritual al modo de Cristo, físicamente idéntico al perseguidor, va degenerando en algo parecido al anticristo. Muda de piel la serpiente para representar a una serie cronológica de explotadores, de falsos Mesías. De la conversión de los indios a la Nueva España plenamente colonial, el protagonista avanza impenitente hacia el norte, atravesando épocas; se topa con la Revolución mexicana, las muertas de Ciudad Juárez, el muro fronterizo y los espaldas mojadas, hasta escuchar uno de los venenosos discursos de Trump. En el trascurso del viaje, los encuentros se repiten, las caras se reencuentran, los oprimidos parecen siempre los mismos.

Gómez Bárcena es uno de los mejores escritores de su generación. Quizá junto a Cristina Morales ocupen algo así como el trono de las promesas literarias patrias. Ambos han explorado en sus novelas, mezclando sabiamente modernidad y clasicismo, la ficción histórica, desplegando en ello una interesante mirada sobre nuestro pasado.

La novela no es fácil, requiere esfuerzo del lector, sobre todo en algunos pasajes que pueden llegar a ser pesados e inconcretos, oníricos a la manera lisérgica de El topo de Jodorowsky. Merece la pena el esfuerzo de vadear estos tramos del relato porque el resultado final es satisfactorio.

[Joan Roure · Rating 5 out of 5]

Maravilloso. Un ejercicio literario al alcance de pocos el que nos ofrece Juan Gómez Bárcena con esta novela. Aquí nos encontramos con la misión que recibe Juan de Toñanes —un soldado sin gloria ni futuro que vaga por la Nueva España del siglo XVI, la tierra que contribuyó a someter— consistente en buscar a un indio apodado "El Padre", precursor y predicador de una especie de herejía. Juan ve la misión como una última oportunidad de hallar ese futuro que no le dio el campo de batalla. Acaso también de encontrarse a sí mismo.

"Es por el oro, claro, el oro es una buena razón para todo, puede que la única razón en el mundo que una vez expresada ya no requiera más razones. Pero al mismo tiempo tiene la impresión de que en ocasiones el oro puede ser también un pretexto; la excusa que ciertos hombres se ponen a sí mismos para satisfacer otros muchos deseos que tienen pero no saben nombrar."

Amparándose en esta historia de persecución, Gómez Bárcena nos lleva a iniciar un viaje —siempre hacia el norte— que trascenderá el tiempo y los territorios. En este trayecto, el cántabro nos hablará de la realidad de México a lo largo de la historia, pero no se quedará sólo ahí, también viajaremos por la vergonzosa frontera de este país con Estados Unidos e incluso nos acercaremos a la historia en un concepto universal.

Enorme valentía la de Gómez Bárcena en esta grandilocuente obra no exenta de espíritu crítico —tremendo repaso al colonialismo y al capitalismo— donde queda de manifiesto, con mucho tino por cierto, la posesión de la tierra y también del ser humano, el atávico dominio del hombre sobre la mujer, el racismo y la inmigración entre otros. A destacar también la ambientación —esos deliciosos tintes de western— y la excelente caracterización de los personajes. Y por si fuera poco, si a todo esto le añadimos una prosa exquisita —¿es Gómez Bárcena uno de los mejores narradores de la actualidad?— y un lenguaje de lo más cuidado y perfectamente encajado en el contexto histórico que requiere cada parte de la obra, nos queda una novela de diez, sin ninguna duda y desde ya mismo, entre mis mejores lecturas de este año.

"Hemos rezado tanto a las cosas, nos hemos arrodillado tantas veces ante nuestras máquinas, ante nuestras mercancías, nuestras pantallas; hemos derramado tanto sudor y tanta sangre por ellas que ahora sólo nos queda eso: morir en su nombre. La religión del capital sobreviviendo a sus creyentes. Las carreteras sobreviviendo a sus viajeros. Las fronteras sobreviviendo a sus emigrantes. "

[Robert Wechsler · Rating 5 out of 5]

A truly great contemporary quest novel that’s difficult to describe without giving too much away (even where it takes place and when). The best I can do is to say that the quest object is changing and elusive, as is the world that surrounds the novel’s protagonist. What makes this novel so powerful is its language (including very effective use of repetition) and the way everything in the novel keeps changing other than its basic surroundings — desert — and the protagonist’s need to keep on going in the same direction, in both space and time. Wow!

[Lahierbaroja · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bienvenidos sean los autores arriesgados, los que nos sorprenden, los que exploran nuevas formas de narrar.

Uno de los mejores libros que he leído en 2020 es este.

Todas las explicaciones, aquí:

https://lahierbaroja.com/2021/01/12/n...

[Bhaskar Thakuria · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well, reading this work of art was an arduous task in itself; certainly something about the entire quest it preordained, or something in the style of the narrative itself, something that was at the same time akin to the best that literary prose has to offer, and at the same time something- at times- stultifying in the midst of the rhetoric of the novel in a flow of prose all too repetitive and persistent. But, nevertheless, the toil of the narrative was worth every inch of the time and care I had to devote to get through this epic morass of a quest- a quest both elusive and edifying at the same time.

So then. Not Even The Dead is about a quest that began in earnest to hunt down a renegade, self-proclaimed heretic- a quest that was soon to become futile in all the repetitiveness of the impersonations of the so-called 'Padre' that Juan, the inglorious soldier and the protagonist of this novel had to encounter in his relentless pursuit, and also a search- a quest- for the modern future of a new land that he helped to conquer, amongst many others.

More human than any of the Indians he saw working the encomiendas, digging in the mines, suffering on their crosses. He would even say they appeared satisfied; they expected nothing of themselves, nor of their tomorrows, other than what they had in their hands today. And there didn’t seem to be superior or inferior men among them: they were simply that, men. Men who work like slaves, perhaps, but do so in a world without masters, in a world of slaves unto themselves and for this reason they are, in some way, free. Watching them he understands what it is Juan the Indian saw here. What it is he wanted to do; what he might have even achieved. A man’s dream, which for its ambition and beauty, appears almost divine: to establish a world that, against all odds, keeps on spinning without silver and gold as its fuel. A world in which all that is gained and all that is lost is the human.

In his endless search for the real 'Padre' Juan encounters many individuals and communities, mostly of the oppressed sort, and in so doing, he begins to understand the real truth about the Padre's teachings and objectives. He always keeps a tattered book of the Padre's teachings along with him to verify again and again the identity of this renegade Indian- also named Juan- and seek the truth regarding his identity and whereabouts by checking for the details in the book with the people he meets on the way. In so doing he comes across the Padre's teachings and maxims scribbled in hurried and roughly done writing on tattered pages. And in so doing he realizes the true nature of the heretic- a prophet who was destined to transform the time of his newly found country and also its future.

And yet, he says to himself. And yet, maybe it is nothing, after all; nothing but a huge mistake. He remembers the many times the Compadre seemed dead or defeated or wiped off the face of the Earth, only to keep walking. He remembers the many confusions that brought him, after so many twists and turns, to this very spot. He remembers the Padre surviving, against all odds, among the Chichimeca savages. The Padrecito rotting in a jail nobody leaves, but which he ultimately left. He remembers the dead Patrón who wasn’t, in the end, the genuine Patrón. Who’s to say this isn’t what’s happening right now. The Compadre, at least the genuine Compadre, can’t be dead. Not just because it’s absurd to imagine him falling off his horse; absurd, actually, to imagine him falling anywhere. Not just because nobody but God—a diminished version of God, an animus of God made flesh—could have made it so far with nothing but the strength of his bare hands. He can’t be dead because if he were, Juan’s journey would be devoid of meaning. And so Juan clings to that handgrip of hope, like one puts his faith in floating driftwood after a shipwreck.

He never lost hope despite the numerous people who tried to divert him in his path with their unmindful assertions and insinuations regarding the Padre's identity and whereabouts. There were several clues that pointed to the contrary but they could not shake Juan's firm belief that he would find the Padre. It soon became a quest that was indeed fruitless and repetitive in all the insinuations he received whenever he seeked for clues- and they were numerous and manifold in his endless voyage to the far north.

No one asks him where he’s going. They are all headed for the same thing: the dollars, the gig, the grind, the good money. They’re all going to the United States, which they sometimes call USA and other times América, or say to the gringos, to the north, and sometimes they don’t call it anything; they just point to the horizon. They speak of the border, of getting to the border, as if the border was a place, a destination in and of itself, and not just a line that is crossed. There, on the other side, is where the money is. Prosperity. The future. And all are heading to that future, on the roof of a boxcar that travels empty, on a train that doesn’t stop.

As he journeys further he encounters people who are trying to get into the United States- the hope for a better future, the quest for a land of opportunities and riches, the money, the dollars, and the good time. Is this the future that the new nation sought for? Is it the long dreamed destiny of the country that the Padre was trying to preach. But still the prophet was elusive for Juan. On the way he meets the oppressed, the luckless and the wretched lot of the country waiting for a better world, all sharing the same landscape and the same hope- that the arrival of the Padre will bring ever elusive justice to this suffering nation.

He sees the tinfoil that held the sandwich, empty.
He sees the jug without water, the empty shell of what was once a water jug. The jug abandoned at some point on the trail, like one abandons a plan.
He sees hunger, a country that stretches as far as the eye can see.
He sees thirst, a landscape of rough contours and concentric paths, like a thorn beating in his temples.
He sees his own shadow, long at daybreak and at dusk and reduced by the boiling heat of midday.
He sees his dead horse.
He sees death. Death right in front of him and what does it matter. Is this the last of the thousand deaths that await him?

It seems that Juan had to endure several deaths and countless deprivations, and finally towards the end, he seems to face an anti-climax. The Padre was not to be found and he had reached the limit of his privations. In one of the final scenes, he feels that he recognizes the Padre's voice in the Trump-like speech meted out by a nameless prophet in a wayside tavern- it was a speech against infiltration of the United States by Mexicans. But he could never believe it and instead was left undecided at the crossroads:

But Juan has stopped listening by then. He’s no longer there. He only has eyes for the horizon and ears for the silence of that land, its immeasurable vastness. He looks to verify that the woman’s words have come to fruition: how the only thing left ahead is, in effect, desert. Earth and dust and sky: all that exists. He sees metal towers supporting cables that transport lights and sounds to no one. He sees a long stretch of asphalt ruled by machines that nobody seems to be driving, machines that push on, guided by their own intentions. He sees the horizon empty of human beings, as if they had already reached the epicenter of that explosion which had to come and, in the end, finally came. From now on, this is the world that awaits, Juan tells himself, startled and prescient, a world made by and for things; a world that must be seen and named and created anew. This is how it will happen, he realizes, over the course of miles or centuries; this is how it will happen, in short, for all time—might time ever end? This is what he thinks. The idea of eternity, contained in a single flash of his thought.

These words reflected by Juan towards the finishing pages reflect the prophetic vision of the book, or the Padre (whichever you would call it), and in essence the vision of the future, and the justice to be meted out to the oppressed and needy.

This novel belies the fact of the role of narrative fiction as a work of art. The complex tapestry of thought and characterization that encompasses this work is in itself an enticement to read this work. It is engrossing and overwhelming at the same time. Overwhelming- probably owing to the protagonist's endless persistence and travails into the depths of Mexico's illimitable stretches in search of the truth. He sought for truth in the form of the prophet but instead is served up with a prophetic vision of the near and distant future of the land he helped conquer. The prophet, or the 'Padre' at the end, seems nothing but a symbolic vision of things to come, of the long-awaited justice for the needy and oppressed. And the very fact that the narrative transcends both space and time- in that it starts out in 1500s colonial Mexico to Trump's border wall of the 21st century- makes it an all too plausible alternative for a modern fable that spans centuries of time.

The writing is glorious on the whole and at the same time might be heavy going for some people. The translation of this remarkable work of fiction is a commendable achievement.

[Nick · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 rounded up. Beautiful and feverish writing, but I absolutely hated the plot and structure. The first 50 pages had me hooked but I didn’t enjoy the direction it took.

Lots of interesting ideas to think on and very intense imagery but not in the right context for me (personally) to enjoy.

[Andy Weston · Rating 3 out of 5]

The plot here is one of a quest, with a distinctly western tinge to it. An ex-soldier is living a quiet and reclusive life as a tavern owner when he is approached by two current soldiers who give him the task of one last mission, to track down an Indian known as “the Padre,” a God-like figure who is bringing religion to Mexico.

Despite its apparent simplicity, this isn’t an easy plot to follow; the Padre’s name changes in each scene he appears in, and after a straightforward first half, the second becomes more like an otherworldly hallucination. Those hoping for resolution and a climatic ending will be disappointed also.

It’s one of those novels to admire as much as enjoy, Barcena’s writing and Whittemore’s translation are striking and become apocalyptic as the book proceeds. I would rather it had remained plot driven, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

[Andrew Merritt · Rating 4 out of 5]

Going to have to sleep on this one. I found the ending a little lackluster but it was mostly a great novel. More thoughts to follow.

[Christopher]

It’s fine and entirely too comprehensible for my taste

[Celia Castellano · Rating 4 out of 5]

Este libro me ha fascinado. El modo que escribe Juan es genial, y extremadamente original. Hacía tiempo que no leía algo tan creativo. El único contra que le he visto es que se ha hecho un poco largo, ya que habían capítulos que parecen un poco parecido entre ellos, pero aún así me ha encantado

[Ignacio · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gómez Bárcena se mete en un berenjenal considerable en Ni siquiera los muertos: a partir de algo tan cotidiano como un encargo (atrapa a este hereje), cuenta una persecución de 500 años a través de la Historia de México. Mientras su protagonista, un hombre que estuvo con Cortés, viaja por el Camino Real de tierra adentro, se encuentra con personas y situaciones que ficcionalizan la incansable búsqueda de utopías y de líderes. Para lograrlo, se mantiene fiel a un estilo que vincula la redacción con los lugares, las situaciones y los temas que trata gracias a un narrador omnisciente que acompasa su discurso a cada situación. Rememoraciones angustiosas de personajes contadas al detalle entre los pensamientos, los sueños y las aspiraciones del protagonista; escasos diálogos, parcos en palabras; amplias acotaciones para contextualizar términos; repeticiones de palabras y fragmentos de discursos... Cada parte se conecta con el resto gracias a una iteración formal, también esencial para apreciar las variaciones a lo largo del tiempo. Ese qué se mantiene y qué se pierde que tanto nos obsesiona.

Estos recursos, unidos al tono onírico-pesadillesco, enriquecen el discurso a la vez que convierten ciertos pasajes en una lectura azarosa. En especial entre las páginas 200 y 300, donde la consistencia de la fórmula puede llevar a la extenuación justo en uno de los momentos más esperados: el tránsito desde la independencia a la revolución. Por fortuna con la llegada al período contemporáneo, la emigración, los feminicidios y el narcotráfico, se recupera vigor quizás porque se aligera algo el estilo. Supongo que esto puede dificultar el avance en determinadas secciones. Pero si alguien desea alejarse de la novela-fórmula, en Ni siquiera los muertos hay ambición a la hora de utilizar los recursos estéticos y genéricos. En su mayor parte, consumada.

[Juan López · Rating 4 out of 5]

No había leído nada de este autor y voy a ir buscando lo pendiente. Novela total, que me recuerda a mil cosas, y muy bien documentada. Con un cierre muy alejado de lo previsible. Bravo.

[Javier López · Rating 4 out of 5]

NI SIQUIERA LOS MUERTOS.

Sensacional novela que propone un recorrido histórico por lo más oscuro de la condición humana. Una crítica brutal al colonialismo, al capitalismo y a la violencia contra la mujer. Una pesadilla circular. Uno de mis libros del año.

Lo he reseñado en el enlace.
https://lareplica.es/historia-del-hor...

[Malintzin Lobete Villegas · Rating 5 out of 5]

He leído varios libros buenos del autor pero este me han entusiasmado, es increíble como pasas del pasado al presente de una forma ta bella, ni se nota. Está muy bien documentado, y me gustó mucho como se describen las situaciones y las relaciones entre los personajes. Lo recomiendo totalmente!!

[Ignacio Cristóbal Fernández · Rating 5 out of 5]

Toh loco el libro este chaval

[Ronronia Adramelek · Rating 2 out of 5]

No es para mí, pero entiendo que haya mucha gente fascinada por esta novela, aventuro que en su mayoría hombres. Le veo el mérito, pero me disgusta, qué le vamos a hacer.

[Carlos Manzano · Rating 5 out of 5]

No había leído nada de Juan Gómez Bárcena, escritor cántabro nacido en 1984 y autor de tres novelas y un libro de relatos, y lo primero que tengo que decir es que su última novela, “Ni siquiera los muertos” (la primera suya que cae en mis manos), me ha deslumbrado por completo. Pura literatura. Ya desde las primeras páginas se hace evidente que estamos ante un libro magnífico, extraordinariamente escrito y perfectamente construido. “Ni siquiera los muertos” narra un viaje, una epopeya, una búsqueda que dura años, siglos, que traspasa épocas y tiempos y que nos habla de justicia, de revolución, de progreso y de liberación. O del sueño de todo ello. O de su pesadilla. Todo eso persigue el exsoldado Juan de Toñanes mientras trata de dar caza al Indio Juan, un renegado que es buscado por hacer su propia interpretación de los libros sagrados. Nosotros, sus lectores, somos invitados a acompañarlo en un viaje que nos llevará a visitar esos sueños, fracasados aunque inevitables, que vienen impulsando al ser humano desde sus orígenes, unas aspiraciones de justicia que jamás llegan a consumarse del todo, tal vez porque tales aspiraciones son ajenas a nuestra naturaleza. (Tal vez. No se sabe. Yo al menos no lo sé). Pero no es eso lo importante en esta novela, sino el tono, el lenguaje preciso y brillante de Gómez Bárcena, la construcción cíclica pero a la vez progresiva del relato de una huida hacia adelante que a pesar de todo no termina, que no acabará nunca, porque la materia que alimenta la persecución de esos sueños ineludibles es en esencia inagotable, pero también porque implica guerras, muerte, desolación, miseria, es decir, nuevos motivos para rebelarse. Y sobre todo miles, millones de víctimas inocentes. “Ni siquiera los muertos” es lo que yo llamo una novela-mundo, un libro que condensa de manera magistral aquello que somos, que nos distingue como especie, y al mismo tiempo describe el mundo físico e intelectual en que vivimos, el que hemos construido a nuestro alrededor. “Ni siquiera los muertos” ha supuesto todo un hermoso descubrimiento para mí, el del escritor Juan Gómez Bárcena.

[Robert Olsen · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a work of historical fiction grafted onto a work of pontificating magic realism. It fails to succeed in either effort. Its central character is a hopelessly passive observer of the world named Juan. Set initially in sixteenth century Mexico following the Spanish conquest, the novel portrays Juan as a native of Castile, a former soldier in the Spanish army, and a lowly Mexican tavern keeper who is engaged by the Viceroy's men to hunt down and kill a mysterious, Franciscan-educated, Christ-like itinerant preacher named Juan the Indian. For reasons that are far from clear, tavern keeper Juan accepts the Viceroy's offer, together with 250 gold escudos, acquires a horse, abandons his wife, and heads north in search of his man. At the Franciscan monastery, Juan's first stop, he acquires a Bible, translated into Spanish by Juan the Indian, replete with circles of Biblical text, underlinings, and sketches of the face of Juan the Indian himself.

This part of the book leads the reader to expect an eventual meeting of Juan and Juan the Indian, together perhaps with a New-Testament-like resolution of Juan's moral dilemma. Instead, however, Juan's quest turns far more quixotic. Wherever he goes Juan is met with false clues and misery, the misery repeatedly attributed to the Spaniards' military and economic rule. Naively he acts on some of the clues without success. Eventually and inexplicably, Juan begins to time travel, the novel turns into a monotonous critique of American greed and exclusion, and then it simply ends.

The author has talent, the 2023 translation from Spanish to English is elegant, but Not Even the Dead is a laborious read that wanders far and eventually disappoints.

[Carlos Pitillas Salvá · Rating 4 out of 5]

Un libro brillante que, quizás, falla por un exceso de sus mejores características. Se trata de una reflexión en clave literaria sobre el progreso, sus excrementos y sus víctimas; y, de tan reflexivo, por momentos se convierte en demasiado intelectual. La historia es un viaje, una especie de road (river) trip alucinado al modo de Apocalypse Now donde perseguidor y perseguido acaban confundiéndose; y, de tanto viaje sin culminación, la cosa a ratos se vuelve un poco agónica, pierde fuelle y se desdibuja. La voz de la novela es potentísima, una voz épica de envergadura borgiana que, cuando se pasa (pocas veces), acaba haciendo ruido.

Gómez Bárcena es un escritorazo, y este libro merece mucho la pena (no quiero que se me malinterprete). Pero como muchas otras grandes novelas, se trata de un río con un caudal que a veces desborda el cauce. Y, ojo: esto, en sí, puede ser un gran motivo de disfrute.

[Jaime · Rating 5 out of 5]

Una vez más, Juan Gómez Bárcena propone una narrativa ágil, llena de matices y personajes cuidados con mimo. Convirtiendo estas marcas como referentes en sus novelas, el autor propone una historia de gran complejidad y creíble, dibujando un hilo argumental sencillo de seguir.

El lector se convertirá en Juan persiguiendo a Juan, sufriendo con él, padeciendo sus calamidades. Nuestros serán sus ojos y oídos, y nuestras serán las imágenes y personajes que encontremos durante un viaje hacia el norte que también acabará siendo nuestro.


Un autor recomendable, que nunca falla y con una prosa exquisita.

Os dejo una reseña más completa en mi blog:

https://lajauladeyimbo.blogspot.com/2...

[Dave · Rating 2 out of 5]

I feel a little unfair giving Juan Gómez Bárcena just a 2-star rating. If you had asked me at the half way point of the novel, I would have definitely said "4-star"... but I guess I was not prepared for where the novel would head from that point on -- perhaps my mind was a little too set on an ending that solved -- in more concrete terms -- the mission of Juan and a resolution to Juan the Indian.

But, when the book headed in a direction that I found fantastical and a bit repetitive, I just couldn't wait to be done with it. I did not give the last 1/4 of the book it's due but I have no interest in going back to see where myself and Bárcena diverged...

[Dan Mead · Rating 2 out of 5]

Awesome beginning, hate read the end

[Nathan Liu · Rating 2 out of 5]

Overlong, confusingly written, and with points both screamingly obvious and entirely opaque, “Not Even the Dead” gets no recommendation from me. And yet, unlike “This Is Happiness,” another bloated mess I wrote about recently, this book didn’t make me angry. It just didn’t grab my attention.

The book takes place in 16th century Mexico, and tells the story of a Spanish soldier named Juan being sent to capture a Native man, also named Juan, whom the authorities perceive as a threat. For the first half of the book, you follow Juan as he goes to different locations where his target, whom he refers to as the Padre, was spotted, and, as he goes, you get a sense for just how destructive Spanish rule in the New World is. But then, midway through, the story changes. It jumps forward several centuries. Juan is still the lead, and he’s still searching for the Padre, but he’s somehow time travelled. And this happens several times, with the book actually ending in the present day with Juan finding the “padre” in America, who, as it turns out, is… Trump? Huh? If what I’m describing sounds random and weird, rest assured, it is. And it’s not just the decision, seemingly out of nowhere, to turn Juan into the Highlander halfway through this not insubstantial book that irks me. Gomez Barcena’s prose is bizarre.

Much like McCarthy’s “Blood Meridian,” he begins each chapter with a series of sentence fragments that describe what will happen in the story to come. That’s already an odd choice, but he also tends to repeat himself and ask rhetorical questions. He’ll also deliberately include typos and mistakes. At first, I thought it was a bad translation, and the editor needing to step in. But it happens multiple times, which let me know it was an authorial choice. But easily the worst part of this whole thing is the fact that there aren’t any scenes in this book. What I mean by that is, there aren’t sections where characters talk to each other, and we get to see their dialogue written out. Instead, everything is told to us. And, as a result, the impact is lessened. This is especially egregious in the chapter where Juan goes into the mountains with 12 followers. Over the course of a few pages, they get bored of following him, decide to rob him, and leave him behind. But because we haven’t heard any of them speak, just heard the author narrating what they’re doing, there’s no buildup. There are no character dynamics. The author just says, “they went into the mountains, doubting there was an Indian there, and, eventually, they left Juan behind.”

All of this, the confusing prose, the lack of characterization and scenes, the bizarre choice to turn this “Heart of Darkness” retread into a time-travel story, coupled with long, rambling passages where the author navel gazes about nothing, add up to a boring, bloated mess. Don’t read it. It’s not worth your time.

[Adrià Palacios · Rating 4 out of 5]

Según los budistas la existencia de todo ser vivo se puede resumir en dos conceptos básicos: movimiento y sufrimiento. Gómez Bárcena parece haberse apoyado en esta tesis para gestar la novela que nos ocupa, una obra tan desasosegante y nihilista como finalmente liberadora, pues solo desde la consciencia de lo que somos podemos intentar encontrar nuestro camino.

Un camino que no es más que un viaje imposible hacia el fin del mundo y de la Historia en el que se embarca nuestro protagonista en búsqueda del indio Juan, una suerte de falso profeta al que la Corona de Castilla quiere parar los pies. Un viaje por el paisaje mítico y fantasmagórico de un México evocado y sugerido, tan polvoriento como inerte, un espacio literario y mítico en el que el trayecto no sólo abarca poblados abandonados y desiertos extenuantes sino también el propio Tiempo. Un viaje en el que recorreremos el Virreinato de la Nueva España, la Guerra de Independencia y la Revolución hasta llegar a la actualidad, la era de una poshistoria aniquilada y sin esperanza.

Pues si el viaje es el movimiento, el tiempo es sin duda el sufrimiento continuo de un pueblo primero saqueado, luego traicionado y finalmente abandonado a su suerte en los tristes y crueles paramos de la desolación capitalista. En su búsqueda del indio Juan nuestro protagonista se irá encontrando con todas las víctimas de un profeta convertido en opresor y renacido en revolucionario, para terminar encumbrado al otro lado de la Frontera por el Dios del dinero. Un recorrido por todo lo cruel y miserable de lo que somos y siempre hemos sido: animales enjaulados listos para devorarnos los unos a los otros. Pues en eso y poco más puede resumirse nuestro paso por este mundo inclemente.

Gómez Bárcena ha escrito un libro que ciertamente no es para todo el mundo: quienes rehúyan de mirar al abismo deben mantenerse alejados de él, pero entre quienes encontramos un poco de paz en la aceptación de nuestras miserias esta novela supone un sorbo de agua cristalina en medio del desierto. Lo más reprochable de ella sea quizás su negativa a intentar erigirse por encima de sus influencias -Conrad, Rulfo y Bolaño son las más evidentes- aunque al mismo tiempo esta falta de pretensiones puede que sea lo que la haga más digerible.

[Bruno · Rating 4 out of 5]

At first, it was like a fast-paced Zama. I loved that not-thinking was a drive for the main character, and that it was something he failed at; Barcena took the usual decorticated action hero and made their lack of thought into a problem. Loved the relayed or nested narration ("he said that God said"), and the use of repetition. Instead of stock epithets ("wine-dark sea"), there were stock passages that tended to mix description with the kind of gnomic or vatic discourse that people underline in novels.

At first Juan's prey, Juan the Indian, is an ambiguous, complex figure, especially in his Christianity: He's the victim of his religious schooling, but he also threatens to become a kind of Thomas Munzer, or then again maybe not a Munzer, maybe just another exploiter. He can have this complex relationship because most of what we know about his religion is from what he has underlined in the Bible he translated. But then as the novel moves into modern times, the discourse for Juan the Indian to relate to is nowhere near as complex or evocative or literary as the Bible. It's just can-do spirit and grindset mindset; by this point, that discourse is relayed only by Juan the Indian's underling. So we don't know what Juan (the Padrote, by that point) thinks about that discourse, and there isn't that much TO think about it, you can believe or not and that's it. It has nowhere near the multivalence of the Bible, especially the Bible in the context of colonization.

Also the exploration of femicide late in the novel was undercut by the sexist way women were portrayed throughout. They're nameless and sexualized all the way through, and the use of repetition further de-individuated them.

[Marvin · Rating 3 out of 5]

This fascinating if difficult novel is very unlike anything I have ever read, though it seems to follow in an honorable tradition manifested in such classic novels as Don Quixote, Candide, and Moby Dick. A man takes on a mission, which becomes an obsession and leads to a series of metaphorical encounters, all involving serious moral conflict, here set in the context of a nation’s struggles and conflicts. I was often puzzled by the meaning of those encounters and confused by the author’s habit of playing fast and loose with time and chronology. But unlike my experience with most novels that cause confusion, here it somehow added to rather than detracted from its appeal, as part of the appeal is the challenge of attempting to unravel the puzzles, even if at times I suspected that the author was simply hallucinating his narrative. I’m sure a lot of it went over my head, but one does get to encounter major events in Mexico’s history, from the conquest of the Aztecs to the recent migration of Mexicans to the U.S. Adding to the difficulty of the reading experience were the many long paragraphs, particularly as the protagonist encounters people who describe to him the man whose mission–and obsession–it is to find. In one case one paragraph ran for 8 pages, in an oversized book with small type and exceedingly long lines of text. Another unusual feature of the narrative was the author’s habit of repeating verbatim sentences and even paragraphs at various points in the account. But despite all the difficulties (including way too many typos), I found it to be a rewarding experience.

[Nelson · Rating 3 out of 5]

There is a cumulative power here that really builds toward the novel's end, but that comes at the price of a challenging central portion that resists easy comprehension. Bárcena's novel is the story of a Spaniard in colonial Mexico (at first). Juan is one of a handful of survivors of the conquest of the Aztecs. He hasn't been rewarded with slaves or an encomienda. Instead he makes do with a dilapidated tavern, eking out a marginal existence. Two officials come to him with a well-paying job: track down and bring back (or execute) an indigene, also named Juan, who has escaped north. The bulk of the novel is Juan's slow progress north toward his ever-receding antagonist. The regions Juan travels to become ever less populated and stranger, and then the novel gets weird. Juan seems to be moving forward in time and the Juan he seeks begins to take on lineaments of different possible characters from Mexican history. The central portions of the novel and this journey are rich with poetic description but end up being quite a slog as a consequence. The final chapters see Juan make his way north of the border in something like contemporary America (where the orange buffoon holds forth) and the poetic impact of the slow-moving narrative has a kind of increasing power. But the long middle section was definitely a challenge and less rewarding than the opening and close of the book. At some level this is meant to be a meditation on Mexican history and the impact of colonialism, but the lessons aren't exactly clear and the characterization of the pursued Juan (deliberately) never comes into focus.