La gente habla del sol de medio día como si a esa hora, y solamente porque el sol está justo encima, realmente hiciera más calor, pero es bien sabido, o debería serlo, que la hora más caliente en Colombia es las dos de la tarde. A veces digo eso en voz alta y siento que la gente afirma con la cabeza, como si de seguirle la corriente a un loco se tratara, pero ayer, rondando el Éxito, abrí una página al azar de una edición especial de Cien Años de Soledad y me encontré esta belleza y fui feliz:
Y la cosa no para ahí porque en “Algo muy grave va a suceder en este pueblo” dice y cito:
Y sí Gabriel García Márquez lo dice, es porque es verdad y punto.
De un tiempo para acá se han “normalizado” (como dicen algunos influencers) ciertas “narrativas” (como dicen otros influencers) que al principio suenan como sentido común, pero que en breve se convierten en la excusa de alguien para vender productos a un precio inconcebible. Empecemos con los discos de acetato (o vinilos como dice el resto de los influencers): Por allá en los dos miles me compré un disco de Anton Rubinstein tocando el segundo concierto de piano de Beethoven por la módica suma de $5.000 pesos (un dólar de hoy en día, para mis lectores internacionales… no sé si los hay, pero un hombre puede soñar) y llegué a mostrárselo a mi papá quien, junto con mi madre, había amasado una inmensa colección de discos de todos los géneros concevibles (por ejemplo, jamás entendí por qué había un Single de Miguel Mateos cantando “Es tan fácil romper un corazón” por un lado y “ob-se-sión” por el otro… ahora que lo pienso, de pronto era porque era un disco chiquito que podía poner yo de niño y si se dañaba no era tan grave…). De inmediato lo puse en el equipo de sonido (o microcomponente, como dicen ahora los vendedores del Éxito) y me senté a escuchar, súper orgulloso de lo económica que era la buena música.
Cinco años después, y a menos que uno esté en el mercado de las pulgas de San Victorino, el último disco de los catorce cañonazos bailables vale $250.000 pesos. Y al parecer todo disco negrito es un lujo para los más hipsters entre los millenials. ¿Por qué? Vaya uno a saber.
Pero se pone peor, porque todo influencer que se respete, estuvo desdeñando del fenómeno de la “Fast Fashion” y de cómo las grandes marcas industriales (en particular Zara, Bershka, Mango y Stradivarius) le generaban la necesidad al consumidor (el consumidor siendo ellos, por supuesto) de andar renovando el clóset cada dos meses, mientras explotaban a niños tailandeses. Y el discurso es bonito y revelador, pero es una clara muestra de que los influencers que critican esta tendencia son gente de clase alta que acostumbraba comprar ropa cada dos meses y no sentirse culpable sino hasta que fue popular hacerlo. Y lo digo porque yo todavía tengo una camiseta café que compraron para alguno de mis hermanos en Koaj cuando todavía se llamaba Pronto. Porque todas mis camisetas de Movies tienen más de cinco años (a eso le llamo yo ropa nueva) y porque no he conocido al primer colombiano promedio que no tenga el clóset lleno de prendas heredadas combinadas con alguna chaqueta que le regalaron por allá en el 2010 y que todavía usa porque le queda linda y se la regalaron en una buena navidad. A lo que voy, es a que, a menos que uno sea influencer vendiendo ropa de distintas marcas, uno suele usar la misma ropa hasta que ya se deshilacha o se va caminando sola. Y lo peor fue la solución: la promoción de “marcas puramente colombianas” que sacan ropa cada dos meses, explotan a adultos colombianos y valen exactamente lo mismo que un vestido de Zara, (si no más caro) y que si uno llega a comprarlos, procura no usarlo, porque va y se le daña a uno esa vaina tan cara.
Porque la solución pa’ todo en este país es volverlo más caro. Como cuando les dio por el dichoso impuesto saludable de las bebidas azucaradas, inspirado por supuesto en hacerle bien a las personas para que tomaran más bebidas saludables. Por esta razón, hoy en día un jugo de naranja es más barato que una Manzana Postobón………….. Y, pues no, ya que en todo centro comercial hoy en día un jugo de frutas es un artículo de lujo que vale casi siempre el doble que la gaseosa promedio y esto porque apenas le subieron el precio a las gaseosas los restaurantes entendieron que también podían hacer más caras el resto de las bebidas. Afortunadamente y como siempre, desde antes de que se andaran inventando impuestos inútiles, los restaurantes de corrientazo dan el jugo con el almuerzo y la gaseosa la cobran más cara, porque para la gente que tiene que almozar barato por la calle todos los días, una gaseosa siempre ha sido un artículo de lujo y cobrarla más cara no cambió en nada sus hábitos alimenticios.
Lo que me lleva a la peor tragedia de la historia reciente: Hace una semana pregunté el precio de un palito de queso en Tostao y a pesar de que probablemente, solo de vista, se notaba que era el pedazo de hojaldre más crudo de la historia, cubriendo el queso de la más mala calidad que ha visto el ser humano en su historia, tan grande como el dedo meñique de un gato, a pesar de todo esto, el vendedor se atrevió a decirme que ese pedazo de porquería valía cinco mil pesos. ¿De cuándo acá un palito de queso es un plato gourmet? Supongo que atrás quedaron los días en que con cinco mil pesos se comía un café con palito de queso en Oma o en Juan Valdez. Al menos el del Oxxo vale tres mil pesos. Al menos el D1 los vende chiquitos para hornear. Al menos a esta hora no me da hambre. Over and out.
Los videos que incluyo en esta entrada solamente presentan las partes lentas de lo que podría considerarse el movimiento final de la Sonata Op 27 No 1, o sea, son secciones pequeñitas tomadas de ese movimiento. La música faltante está conformada por secciones más rápidas que, si bien, no son necesariamente más difíciles técnicamente, sí son más exigentes físicamente (cansan más, mejor dicho), y como no he podido tocar con juicio (por falta de tiempo como notarán por las entradas 103 a 112), estoy seguro de que intentar grabar el movimiento completo me dejaría frustrado y agotado. Por eso, los dos videos que escucharán terminan como en continuará. Y que disculpen.
Por otro lado, y como mencioné hace ya un tiempo, las piezas que Beethoven compone en la tonalidad de la bemol mayor (o incluso breves secciones en otros movimientos y piezas que pasan por esa tonalidad) son el epítome de lo conmovedor y siempre he disfrutado mucho tocarlas. Este movimiento, en particular, pinta una imagen demasiado específica que no tiene nada que ver con la música, pero va más o menos así:
“Un hombre barbado y canoso teclea en la lengua de Cervantes los secretos jamás contados de la Historia de Colombia, tras haber leído las noticias en francés; entre tanto, una mujer de joven eternidad resuelve el enigma numérico de turno y procura ignorar el acorde sospechoso que suena lindo pero rarito. El palo de rosa vibra mientras que, al lado, la piedra recorrida de escaleras ajenas es percusión no solicitada. Tal vez llueve, porque esta ciudad es solo es bella cuando llueve. A veces huele a tinto.”
Una señora, muy enseñorada, de botas cafés, blue jean, suéter de rayas horizontales color blanco y color grizzly, chal salmon y gorrito de lana del mismo color, se sienta en la silla azul y contesta su celular. A todo grito (exagero, solamente lo dice durito) declama que está “de pie en este pinche Transmilenio”. Todos se ríen y la señora a mi lado dice “¡Vieja chismosa!
I finished reading this book about one month ago and unfortunately I hadn’t had the time to write my review until today, so I’ll fill this one with spoilers, because it’s impossible not to and, also, I think it’s necessary for me to do it so that I can be as sincere as I want so. However, I will refer first to general aspects of book-writing that called my attenttion and then I’ll refer to plot specific points, so that the reader may know when the spoilers begin. So, let’s get into it.
The first thing I liked about this book was its richness in vocabulary. The author manages to describe at least four different areas of knowledge using technicals words and expressions that never sound out of place, in fact, the scenes where these kinds of language occur are so naturally built that every alien term (whether, artistic, acting or law-related) flows with the cadence of Yanagihara’s prose and enhances the poetic nature of the book. I particularly remember a scene where the character JB is deciding on what his next project will be and his mind produces the following train of thought: “After some experimentation, he has settled on canvases the size of a standard C-print, twenty by twenty-four inches, all horizontally oriented, and which he imagined might someday be displayed in a long snaking single layer, one that would wrap itself around a gallery’s walls, each image following the next as fluidly as cells in a film strip.” I think that whenever the author does this she produces some unexpectedly beautiful descriptions.
The second thing I liked about this book was how it is almost impossible to point out in which year all this story is taking place. I guess authors refrain from mentioning messagging services or social media sites in order to avoid using the name of a brand in such a way that they may either say something innapropiate and get sued or, conversely, mention any brand name casually and end up and giving them free publicity. I mention this, because it is clear that the characters have cell phones but they never seem to be using them openly for communication or tracking themselves online (this, because all four main characters are at one point or the other in their lives, very famous among certain circles and even all around the world). So, is this a world where people only use their cell phones to text and make phone calls? And it’s not like the book just covers a few years, in fact, it covers a period of almost sixty years and the characters have cell phones when they are in their twenties, so, even if they got phones in the late 80s (which doesn’t sound possible, since I can’t imagine the people in the books carrying DynaTAC cell phones), the end of the book would happen somewhere around the late 2020s, and we all know how smartphones and people live like today. My guess is that the book happens in an alternate reality (nothing magic about it or Marvel like, just a different reality, very similar to ours) and I also base this hypothesis on the following idea.
The third thing I liked about this book is how all the characters end up being succesful (with which I mean very rich) after studying in the university and they even pay their college loans (!!!) and own the places where they live. Of the four main characters in the book, two are wealthy from birth, but the other two, the most important ones, are not; one of them is actually quite poor and he manages to become very rich through study and effort alone (and the support of his teachers and friends, but you know what I mean); that kind of story sounds lately like a fairy tale and I think that any media that promotes this is important for society, because it reminds us that studying should be a life goal as well as represent an economical reward in society, instead of just a long-term debt with Icetex.
The fourth thing I liked about this book is the way it manages to tell the story of one character, the protagonist, Jude St Francis, through the eyes of all the people who surround him, without turning them just into persons who are there to provide a point of view. Their backstories are treated carefully and respectully and we get to learn about them just as much as we get to learn about Jude, only way earlier in the development of the story. And, actually, this is a clever strategy that the author uses to make us long for learning about Jude’s past and, so to say, stay tuned through 900 pages, since we know everything about JB, Malcolm and Willem in page 200 and we will only be rewarded (or punished, depending on how you feel after you learn it) until the very end of the book.
Now, talking about the plot (this following spoiler ruins the whole book, so, don’t read it if you want to read the book by yourself one day), the fifth thing I liked about this book is it’s real plot. The back cover review mentions four friends from college coming through New York, which has nothing to do with the plot in the long run. This book is actually a love story, the love story between Jude St. Francis and Willem Ragnarson, and I will forever be moved by the way it starts (and finishes, come to think of it) which is, when you read it, a beautiful recount of a tragicomedic anecdote where one friend, who is standing on the firescape stairway of a building, opens the window of their apartment while his truest friend embraces him so that he doesn’t fall into his dead: “‘I’ve got you,’ he said, and Jude leaned out over the edge of the railing, farther than he could have done on his own”
Now, this book is so well-written (the sixth thing I liked about this book), that this whole sentence describes and foreshadows the whole plot. Jude, an orphan adopted by a group of catholics monks, was tortured as a kid, later turned into a male prostitute and finally ran over by a car which was being driven by one of his abusers; he should’ve died, but he didn’t, and the consequences of these event were forever living with him: guilt, remorse, self-hatred, physical self-harm tendencies and, apart fom all that, a chronical injury on her back that reduced his movility forever. He doesn’t sound like the kind of person that would be capable of living a functional life, however, he’s a tremendous pianist (an idea suggested subtly by the pieces he plays: Schubert Wanderer’s Fantasy, for once, which is not only hard but kind of underground when it comes to difficult piano pieces) a ruthless lawyer that people all over the USA fear and a mathematics enthusiast who bakes like a professional chef. All these skills show how Jude clinched himself to life by training his skill so that his mind would not destroy him but also that he struggled (physically and mentally) everyday to find the energy to keep on going and it was the love of his life, Willem, who allowed him to go “farther than he could have gone on his own”, ’cause otherwise, he would’ve ended his life way sooner, as every character on the book expected.
Because of that, it only makes sense that Jude takes his life after Willem dies, but this (the seventh thing I liked about this book) is not presented as a tragedy, or I don’t see it like that at least, because all throughout his life, Jude could’be killed himself and be defeated by the ghosts of his abusers (brother Luke or Doctor Traylor), instead, he decides to leave this world just after telling to his adoptive father (Harold) the anecdote of the window in Lispenard Street. Jude realized that he had lived all his life on that window and no one was holding him anymore, so he just fell, but knowing that he had been happy, that he had his HAPPY YEARS and it was all worth it, in a way.
Finally, Harold and Jude’s ideas around duel, the eighth thing I liked about this book. Harold suffered the loss of his first son, Jacob, and in the chapter he describes this, he describes how he slowly realized this kid wasn’t going to live a long live and it’s written so matter-of-factly that it hurts to read it and even hurts to remember it, for many people may have seen and suffered that with that same level of sad stoicism. And the part that probably destroyed me the most was the description of Jude holding on to the smell in the clothes of Willem… this reminded them me so much of my mom that I cried like a baby, in a bus, probably scaring a little bit the people around me, because that is exactly what happens when a life-partner dies.
What I didn’t like
Two things, mainly. I’ve written before in this blog how I hate the cliché of the “baddest” guy listening to classical music and this same thing happens when doctor Traylor picks up Jude since, like some sort of foreshadowing, the car is playing Schumann. Like, what the hell! I’m pretty sure evil people listen to Kanye West, Diomedes Diaz and Feid, or when have you heard of great criminal lords making parties on their private islands while they are dancing a Minuet by Bach. I hated that paragraph in the book, because a real doctor Traylor would’ve been listening to a normal radio station with mainstream songs, but I gues you can’t name Tupac in a book without paying some sort of royalty, so….
The other thing I didn’t like (but I also liked fom another perspective, but this blog is too short a space to discuss that) was the lack of female characters. I don’t think a woman ever speaks a line all throughout the 900 pages of the book, which I find kind of odd. But it’s not really that bad and I’m sure it’s intentional, so, we can let it go.
In conclussion
This book will break you apart, but it is worth every tear and every heart wrenching description of tragedy and pain. You will not leave the reality of this story unaffected and it will forever hurt you because of its feasibility. A book to remember indeed.
Volveré a escribir una vez resuelva todas las ocupaciones. Gracias por su paciencia. Ya tengo un libro más para reseñar, y debo continuar con las danzas de Bach. Así que pronto volveré a mis andanzas.
Ideas Vagas 