The Shadow of the Wind (2001)
By Carlos Ruiz Zafon
Penguin, 565 pages.
★★★★★
Looking for a great novel?
How about a story that features passion, tragic love, war, revenge, subterfuge,
fire, madness, vengeful devils, soiled avenging angels, social class tension,
and Victor Hugo’s pen? It even comes with its own walking map of Barcelona for
those wishing to match story to the street. Do I have your attention?
I recently revisited Carlos
Ruiz Zafon’s The Shadow of the Wind,
which I read about 15 years ago without realizing that it’s the first book of a
trilogy. I tracked down the next two volumes in a used bookstore, but wisely decided
first to re-read The Shadow of the Wind.
What a book!
It opens shortly after the
Spanish Civil War (1936-39), a conflict often viewed as a dress rehearsal for
World War II. Alas, it ended in the deaths of nearly 2 million, the destruction
of the democratic Spanish Republic, and the installation of a fascist dictatorship
headed by Francisco Franco that endured until 1975. Young Daniel Sempere and
his father run a small bookshop with the help of Fermin Romero de Torre, an
unforgettable character who has a shadowy past and is equal parts rogue,
trickster, horndog, and mentor to Daniel. Like Fermin, everything is shadowy in
Franco’s Barcelona, a hotbed of anti-Franco resistance both during and after
the civil war.
Our mystery begins when
Daniel’s father takes him to the secretive Cemetery of Forgotten Books, a repository
of works few (or none) have ever read. Every reader conjures different images
of what it’s like; mine is analogous to an M. C. Escher labyrinth. Daniel is
told that he can remove any volume he wishes, and he selects Shadow of the Wind by Julian Carax. Daniel
is more than enthralled and sets out to find other Carax titles. They seem to
have vanished, though the wealthy Gustavo Barcelo offers him a small fortune
for his copy of Shadow of the Wind.
Although Barcelo’s blind niece Clara is Daniel’s unrequited crush, he declines
Barcelo’s offer and embarks on a labored effort to unravel the story of Carax’s
life. Two sinister characters loom ominously over Daniel’s efforts: police
inspector Francisco Javier Fumero, a sadistic, amoral monster; and Lain Coubert,
a frightful-looking man with scorched lips, fiery red skin, no eye lids, and a
melted face. Both give Daniel the same advice: forget about Julian Carax. This
is all the creepier given that Daniel knows that Lain Coubert is the name given
to the Devil in Carax’s Shadow of the
Wind.
This is a terrific setup for
a novel whose mystery takes us back to both 1919 and the Spanish Civil War,
forward to World War II, and advances again to 1956 and 1966. As such it also a
coming-of-age novel that eventually deposits us in Daniel’s forties. As young
Daniel probes deeper into what happened to Carax and his books, he discovers
that the bits and pieces don’t seem to fit the official story.
All of this is made more
compelling though secondary characters of depth and memorable circumstance: Don
Ricardo Aldaya, an imperious and snobbish rich businessman; his angry n’er-do-well
son Jorge; their dying former governess Jacinta Coronado; and Nuria Montfort,
the estranged daughter of the keeper of the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, whom
we meet in a loveless marriage to Miquel Moliner, and once was one of Julian’s
lovers. Above all there is Fermin, who is a force of nature who will make you
laugh, cringe, marvel, and fear for his safety. Ruiz Zafon also makes us care
about a character that isn’t even present: Penelope Aldaya, Don Ricardo’s
daughter.
As Daniel moves through his
teens and tries to woo Beatriz Aguilar, his best friend’s sister, but is decidedly
above Daniel’s class rank, The Shadow of
the Wind also begins to suggest a history-repeats-itself story. I shall say
only that Ruiz Zafon is a skillful writer who knows how to close the circle
without resorting to the obvious. Pay attention to the book’s “shadows;” what
happens on the fringes is often more important than what takes place in the
light of day. Note also how the very identity of a “shadow” shifts. On
occasion, it’s not even a person.
At times the book will
remind you of Greek mythology–Penelope’s name isn’t coincidental–but it also
has elements of Great Expectations, Don Quixote, Victor Hugo, Umberto Eco,
Gothic novels and caper films. It is unabashedly anti-modern in its disdain for
mid-20th century technology (such as television) and you don’t need
a course in Spanish history to know that Ruiz Zafon deplored Francoism.
One can debate what qualifies
as literature–as opposed to simply “fiction”–but I doubt that anyone would
argue that The Shadow of the Wind is
not a serious work. Stay tuned as I dive into the remaining books of the
trilogy.
By the way, the Cemetery of
Forgotten Books does not really exist. It should, it should!
Rob Weir
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