Antonio Lobo Antunes\u2019s books contain many of the things that are fantastic about contemporary literature; at the same time, these books exemplify a lot of the traits that scare people off from literature in translation.<\/p>\n
This may sound stupid, but even his name is a problem. Where to shelve it in the bookstore\u2014under \u201cLobo\u201d? under \u201cAntunes\u201d? (Antunes is correct, although I\u2019ve found his titles in both places in a countless number of stores.) But it\u2019s the text itself that poses the most problems to American readers:<\/p>\n
\nThe sea of the Algarve is made of cardboard like theater scenery, and the English don\u2019t realize it: they conscientiously spread their towels on the sawdust sand, protect themselves with dark glasses from the paper sun, stroll enthralled on the stage of Albufeira where public employees disguised as carnival barkers, squatting on the ground, inflict on them Moroccan necklaces secretly manufactured by the tourism board, and end the afternoon by anchoring in artificial esplanades, where they\u2019re served make-believe drinks in nonexistent glasses that leave in the mouth the flavorless taste of the whiskey furnished the actors on television dramas. After the Alentejo [. . .] <\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
The opening sentence is almost baiting . . . not only is it a pointed critique of English tourist constructed out of a seemingly endless series of clauses, on a more basic level the references to Algarve, Albufeira and Alentejo are immediately disorienting to most American (at least) readers. But place names are just the first layer of obstacles an average reader is faced with\u2014next up are the references to the Angolan war. This war plays a huge role in many of Antunes\u2019s books, due in part to the fact that Antunes himself was a veteran of this war, which really was a mess. After one gets their historical bearings (the Angola War of Independence lasted from 1961-74 ending after a leftist military coup took place in Lisbon) a reader still has to figure out what\u2019s going on, since Antunes\u2019s narrator (named Antonio Lobo Antunes) mashes together events from the Angolan war with his work as a psychiatrist at a Lisbon mental institution with the present moment of his drive back from the southern coast to Portugal\u2019s capital city with very few linguistic indicators (at least at the beginning) as to where you are.<\/p>\n
In other words, this isn\u2019t the easiest of books to approach. Yet, a bit of patience and outside research opens up Antunes\u2019s labyrinthine, carefully wrought sentences, which draw the reader into the shattered world of a man recovering from a broken marriage who has journeyed through \u201chell\u201d (aka the mental institution) and is trying to get his shit together. For me, in the second chapter when all of this clicked into place, I immediately fell in love with the book, with its complicated structure and feverish rhythms. <\/p>\n
Aside from Fado Alexandrino,<\/i> I\u2019ve read all the Antunes books translated into English, gotten readers reports on the rest, and helped acquire this while I was at Dalkey. (Although Clifford Landers\u2019s exquisite translation didn\u2019t arrive until after I\u2019d left, so this is the first time I\u2019ve read the book.) So to be honest, I\u2019m predisposed to appreciate this novel.<\/p>\n
This was Antunes\u2019s third novel, part of an ill-defined psychiatric trilogy that also includes Mem\u00f3ria de Elefante<\/i> and Os Cus de Judas.<\/i> It was originally written in 1980 (though most reviews are citing 1983—not sure where that came from) and is very raw. There\u2019s a moment around page 100 where we get a glimpse of the books Antunes will come to write. <\/p>\n
It\u2019s during a flashback to the mental hospital times, when a young groom arrives begging to be admitted as insane. See, he\u2019s run away from his wedding because he\u2019s already married with children and terrified of the consequences from all various parties. Of course, the family of the bride figures this all out\u2014his former marriage, his escape to the asylum\u2014and the bride\u2019s mother goes into a six-page monologue describing the situation in a wildly energetic, often hilarious fashion that\u2019s almost impossible to excerpt seeing how tied into itself every line is.<\/p>\n
\n\u201cThis is a disgrace, doctor. We\u2019ve been waiting at the Sao Jorge castle since eleven o\u2019clock, the bride\u2019s family came all the way from Torres Novas for it, you know, even a major, even a judge are there, people of position, people of influence, and him calling every half hour from one place and another, Don\u2019t worry, I\u2019m on my way, I\u2019ve been looking for the best man, the best man forgot his ID at home, the man at the Registry has diarrhea, he stopped for a beer and I\u2019m here waiting, it\u2019ll just be a minute, and us believing it in good faith, don\u2019t you worry I\u2019m on my way, and us in our innocence swallowing it all, some photographs were taken with the peacocks, you could see the river, people chatted [. . .] the bride\u2019s brothers went looking for him, one of them was even going to be a priest and owns an appliance store and he went too in spite of his ulcer, he\u2019s very sensitive and can\u2019t get upset, any little thing and he starts spewing blood, they searched his room, found out he was married and living with a trollop and three children behind the slaughterhouse, an old building with kitchen access, the poor bride fainted, if she doesn\u2019t go off her rocker from grief it\u2019ll be a miracle \u2019cause I\u2019ve seen it happen over less [. . .]<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n
There are a group of writers Antunes is frequently compared to: Celine, Dos Passos, and most obvious (to me), Faulkner. But he\u2019s all of these writers and then something else. He\u2019s Faulkner secure in his humor. A jangly, frenetic Faulkner. A Celine who cares even more about people. And it is care that\u2019s at the center of this novel. It is Antunes\u2019s questioning of psychiatric practices that drives the \u201cplot\u201d and hallucinatory descriptions. <\/p>\n
This burning, questioning hatred of psychiatry fuels this book, but is also one of the reasons that, unfortunately, this novel is second-tier Antunes. The fire is too consuming, too all-encompassing, and it\u2019s as if the section quote above is the only time that Antunes took a breath. (That and the bits addressed to the narrator\u2019s daughter Joanna.) This is a worthwhile book\u2014it\u2019s intense, it\u2019s captivating, and very cinematic\u2014but if you\u2019ve never read Antunes, I\u2019d recommend starting with Act of the Damned<\/i> and circling around to this later. <\/p>\n