Three in a row of Mexican women’s writing, with today’s
review being the recently released “Umami” by Laia Jufresa (some places have
this slated for release next month, however I purchased my copy a few months
ago and it has been with me since June!!) I came across the work ‘umami’ a few
years ago when my eldest child came home from primary school and explained that
there are five basic flavours, sweet, sour, salty, bitter and umami (discovered
by the Japanese), the novel also gives a description;
“Umami is one of the five basic
flavours our taste buds can identify. The others, the ones we all know, are
sweet, salty, bitter and sour. Then there’s umami, more or less new to us in
the West. We’re talking a century or so. It’s a Japanese word. It means
delicious.”
But this is not a novel about food. The “umami” here is the
name of one house in a collection of five, all named by the landlord Alfonso,
an expert in flavour (or more precisely pre-Hispanic diets). These five homes
are in an urban environment and from the opening page you know that you are in
for a desolate tale:
The three of us looked out of the
sliding door to the yard where the picnic table lives. Once upon a time it was
folding and portable. The benches on either side slot underneath like the
retracting feet of a turtle, and the whole thing transformed into a neat aluminium
travel case. Not anymore. It’s probably still fold up, but no one seems keen on
picnics these days. Around the table there’s just gray cement (dirty gray), and
a row of flowerpots full of dry soil, the remains of some bushes, a broken
bucket. It’s a colorless, urban yard, If you spot something green, it’s moss
you’re looking at; something red and it’ll be rust.
The future holds no picnics, it is bare, it is urban. But
one of our voices, the young Ana wants to start a garden, she is breaking out
of the desolation that has befallen these people and she is planning a future.
The book is broken into three sections each containing five chapters,
five different voices, the chapters move backwards through the years. 2004 is
the voice of a young girl, the older sister of Luz who drowned a number of
years ago, 2003 the story of Marina, an unstable adult girl who suffers an
eating disorder, 2002 the voice of Alfonso, the anthropologist who studies
pre-Hispanic diets, and husband of the recently deceased Noelia, 2001 the
immature voice of Luz who drowns in that year and the year 2000 another young
girl, Pina.
The five voices live in five different houses named after
the five basic flavours,
Bitter House: Marina
Sour House: Pina and her dad, Beto.
Salty House: Linda Walker and Víctor Pérez.
Sweet House: The Pérez-Walker Academy of Music.
Umami House: Alfonso Semitiel…and The Girls.
With wonderfully rich characters and distinctive voices, the
culture exploration is also prominent, for example the study of amaranth, the
Aztec rituals and how the Spanish wiped out the main grain source, amaranth,
creating the now held misbelief that corn was the primary source of grain in
Mexico is raised.
Again, although it may appear so with eating disorders,
professors of diets, houses names after flavours, this is not merely a novel
about food. This is a book that works on many other levels, exploring loss,
motherhood, maternal love, and innocence. As well as the allegory of tending a
garden, the meticulous work and the slow involvement of others in the
“community”, showing the voices who are coming to terms with loss and moving
towards a brighter future.
Just like umami, reading this book became a craving, you
need a satisfying fill of this group of ordinary humans all coming to terms
with ordinariness, death, loneliness, admiration, self-awareness, innocence.
With characters that are believable, and small revelations that are peppered
throughout the five distinct voices all become similar in their needs. Whilst
Marina with her eating disorder believes that she is isolated and alone, Ana
looks up to her for her individuality, her determination and her unique fashion
style. Whilst Alfonso is living in the past, and the memories of his life with
the recently deceased Noelina, Marina lives in the now, the immediate, no past,
no future.
Whilst personally I found the voice of Alfonso the most
enjoyable to read, that may be because he is the only male voice in the novel,
all five voices are distinct, uniquely different and address, from a range of
angles, maternal love and loss.
A book that must have been challenging to translate, given
the different tone, nuances, styles and ages of all the voices, and as per her
wonderful work with Ivan Repila’s “The Boy Who Stole Attila’s Horse”, Sophie
Hughes has brought to life a seamless work in English. I am looking forward to
reading her recently translated “Affections” by Rodrigo Hasbun.
A sparkling work that I am sure would reveal even more
secrets on a second reading, one that combines all the flavours of the palate,
which rounds out nicely and leaves you with a feeling of loss, something “to
remember, not to keep”.
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