According to a metonymy created by the author among themselves, when one encounters a novel in which all the characters are “baptized” (named) by the name of a world-famous musician, it is either an eccentric vulgarity or a manifestation of genius. Frankly, and I’m guessing already, it was the latter for me. And in this latest rereading of Ordesa (Círculo de lectores, 2018).
After the death of his mother, the hero (the author’s own literary text) characterizes his current life situation: 50 years old, divorced, two children, former high school teacher, writer and former alcoholic for several months. The novel is presented with no apparent temporal structure; and, on the other hand, typing each of his sentences almost like a tear of life or a groan, due to the great reliability afforded by the typeface it offers. Everything is in perfect harmony with the protagonist’s vital memory and the first-person narration that presents the family memory brought to life in writing.
The novel is divided into 157 series of varying lengths, but does not always exceed 3 pages across 352 pages. In them, themes and characters are dealt with without a clear order, but are established; From that moment on, he tells the most recent events and his entire past hand in hand with the memory of his parents, especially the father figure: “People saw you very stylish, with your suit, tie, protocol. with your style, who immediately wanted to do something for you. You are the great musician Juan Sebastián Bach» (p.234). It is simply and emphatically finding oneself alone and detached: “I wish human suffering could be measured not in vague words but in precise numbers. […] Every human being is one day confronted with the weightlessness of his transition in time” (p.9). But still, Vilas finishes off with a delicious love-filled sequence set in 1961 that showcases the brutality of time. The novel closes with an afterword of 10 poems describing the most important moments, sensations and emotions in the story that is in the consciousness of the narrator we are witnessing. In this way, along with the simple and everyday anecdotes of the protagonist and his family, all the vital emotions of the character are savored, structured by a series of intimate and existential considerations; that is, he tells the vital moment he is in and needs to go from the heart and mind.
Ordesa may be a clear example of how the novel as a genre “bases” on everything, and turns narration into something magnificent without using traditional techniques. Since the extraordinary is derived from the ordinary, therein lies some of its virtue. It should not be forgotten that Vilas is a poet who enjoys every page of his novel and exists on a daily basis with a reality felt in every sentence he writes.
Also, I totally get it. It is the novel of an age, a certain generation and the way of understanding masculinity, which is the product of a whole education and certain times. This identification is glorified by the delight of clever prose: “I believe my father never had a neat desk to write on. Calligraphy was important. Yellow copies were important. Life turns yellow. It is yellow until dawn” (p.208).
And why should you read this novel? Because it is a different novel in which self-editing has become the dominant narrative technique with a very high poetic level; because while reading, he discovers the yellow of life, and since it is a December novel, one year ends with wishes for happiness and survival, and another begins.