Thus Bad Begins, by Javier Marias

I am surprised now that, not only have I never read any works by Marias, but I had never even heard of him, never heard his name before.  I was browsing the new fiction table at the Ivy Bookstore, picked this up, read the first page or so, and was grabbed by the language, the depth of insight slipped casually and unexpectedly into otherwise straightforward statements.  The very first sentence contains the following: “...and how brief a life is once it’s over and can be summed up in a few sentences...”  That opening promised a story with memorable insights about ordinary people, which is my kind of story.  

The novel is set in Spain in the time following the death of the dictator, Francisco Franco, in 1975.  The narrator, Juan De Vere, is a twenty-three year old writer, employed as secretary to Eduardo Muriel, a moderately successful film producer.  Beatriz Noguera is Muriel’s wife, early forties, attractive, unhappy.  We don’t learn the source of that unhappiness until near the end of the book, when much else has happened, events that lend color to the story and threaten to become the main thread, but fade into insignificance, “...leaving only ashes in the memory, ashes that crumble at the slightest touch and fly up with the slightest gust of wind...”   Of course the inevitable punch of the story is the narrator’s story, and the reader doesn’t learn how that is until the final chapter, which is a long time to wait (439 pages), and because Marias’s chapters are short, typically only four to six pages, I wondered how it could be wrapped up in such a short space without leaving annoying loose ends.  But it is wrapped up, satisfyingly and gracefully.

The era of the Franco dictatorship casts a long shadow over the events in the novel.  Franco came to power in 1939 following a vicious civil war, and he ruled with a cruel fist for thirty six years until his death in 1975.  I was in my mid-twenties then but don’t remember anything of Franco; my interests in politics must have been filled and overfilled with Vietnam and Watergate.  In my mind I have always thought of Franco in terms of the thirties and forties, and World War II, not anything as recent as the seventies.  

In the story, there were rumors of atrocities committed by, and against, the regime, acts of violence and unequal power relationships, such as a supporter of the regime threatening to denounce an opponent, or even a non-political  bystander, and extracting sexual favors in return for his silence.  In the words of one of these characters, “...nothing gives one more satisfaction than when a girl doesn’t want to do it, but can’t say no.”  

Marias describes the decades following Franco’s death as a time that everyone just wanted to forget, to put it in the distant past, not to be dragged into the present by accusations, recriminations, trials and punishments.  A law, the Spanish 1977 Amnesty Law, passed only two years after Franco’s death, shielded any Franco-era crime from prosecution.  It violates international human rights law, but remains in force to this day.  

This wish to forget shows up in the novel as secrets, memories impinging on current thoughts, and recognition of current events, thoughts, and images as future memories.  On a couple of occasions, the narrator imagines his future self, much older, saying to him, “Remember this experience and note every detail, experience it with me in mind....grasp it firmly, take a long look at this woman and keep that image safe, because later on, I will ask you for it and you will have to offer it to me as consolation.”  Rich, very rich.

It wasn’t easy reading, but not terribly difficult either.  There were few, if any, moments when I had to set it aside and look something up, but several when my curiosity about real events and characters was piqued enough to propel me to do a little research.  It's a thoughtful story, very well crafted, and I can see myself seeking out another of his more than a dozen novels that have been translated into English.  Glad I read it.