potted plants

Bonsái/La vida privada de los árboles

The story ends with her dead and him alone. He had actually been single for years before her death, before Emilia. Let's just say her name was Emilia, or had been, and his name was, is, and will be Julio: Julio and Emilia. The story ends with Emilia dead and Julio alive. The rest is literature:

They ended up sleeping together by chance. There was a test for "Spanish Grammar II," a subject neither of them excelled in. But they were young, theoretically prepared for anything, and they planned to study Spanish Grammar II together at the home of the twin sisters, the Vergaras. The study group had more members than expected. Some put on music, saying they were used to listening to music while studying; others brought vodka, claiming they found it difficult to concentrate without it; and still others bought oranges because they couldn't stand vodka without orange juice. By three in the morning, everyone was drunk and decided to go to bed. Julio had originally planned to spend the night with one of the Vergaras' girls, but he quickly changed his mind and settled for sleeping in the servants' room with Emilia.
Julio disliked Emilia because she always asked too many questions in class; Emilia resented Julio because he barely went to school yet managed to pass all his exams. However, that night, they discovered a lot of emotional similarities, the kind that any married couple would recognize if they paid close attention. Needless to say, they did terribly on the exam. A week later, to prepare for a make-up exam, they met again at the Vergara house and slept together again, even though this time they didn't have to share a room at all because the twins' parents had gone to Buenos Aires and had a spare room.
Before she had sex with Julio, Emilia had decided that from now on she would "do things," like the Spanish did. Not "make love," or "hook up" or "hang out," or "fuck" or "do it." "It's a Chilean problem," Emilia whispered with the languor that only comes in the dark. "It's a Chilean problem. We're too young to say 'make love,' but in Chile, if you're not making love, you're fucking or "doing it," and I don't like fucking or "fuckin'" you, so I prefer to say we're doing things, like in Spain."
Emilia didn't know Spain then. Many years later, she would settle in Madrid, where she'd "do" many things, not with Julio, but mainly with Javi Martínez, Ángel García Atienza, and Julián Albuquerque. And once, but only once, somewhat forced, with Carolina Kopech, her Polish girlfriend. That night, the second night, unlike all the others, Julio became Emilia's second sexual partner. He was Emilia's second man, as many mothers and therapists hypocritically put it. Emilia, however, was his first serious relationship. Julio always avoided serious relationships, not with women, but with seriousness, because he knew it was as dangerous, or even more so, than with women. He knew he was destined to be subject to this seriousness, but he clumsily tried to circumvent it, living in a stoic wait for the dreadful, inevitable day when seriousness would become ingrained in his life.

Emilia's first boyfriend was slow-witted, but there was something genuinely wrong with that slow-wittedness. He made a lot of mistakes, and he usually knew how to admit them and correct them, but some mistakes were incurable. This idiot, her first boyfriend, had made one or two unforgivable mistakes, and those mistakes weren't worth mentioning now.
They started dating when they were fifteen, but when Emilia was sixteen or seventeen, he still seemed fifteen. And so it went on: when Emilia was eighteen, nineteen, twenty-four, he was still fifteen; when she was twenty-seven, twenty-eight, and until she was thirty, he was still fifteen. Emilia's age stopped increasing after thirty, not because she began to hide her age, but because she died just after her thirtieth birthday. She stopped ageing because she was dead.

Emilia's second boyfriend was incredibly pale. With him, Emilia discovered mountaineering, cycling, hiking, and yogurt. That period, especially with lots of yogurt, was incredibly important to her, as it was preceded by a long period of pisco, long nights spent drinking pisco with cola, with lemon, or even just pisco, straight, without ice. They caressed each other, but never had sex because he was so pale. This made Emilia insecure, even though she was also pale, practically white except for her short, jet-black hair.

Her third boyfriend was, in fact, a patient. She knew from the beginning that the relationship was doomed to fail, yet they stayed together for a year and a half. He was her first sexual partner, her "first man," and they had sex when she was eighteen and he was twenty-two.
Between my third and fourth boyfriends, there were some brief dates, mostly out of boredom.
The fourth one is Julio.
The publication of "Penta" marked a bloodletting in Chilean literature, recording the end of an era, or the beginning of another, in the language of this country.
—El Mercurio, Chile

Despite its short length, this novel (Bonsai) is ethereal and rich...joyful, witty, and full of surprises.
——"Complete Review"
"Bonjac" is difficult to categorize and incredibly beautiful...one of the best Chilean novels in recent years.
——Capital News
Sambula's words are strung together like pearls, each one perfect, fragile, and self-sufficient. Often, they achieve a surprising beauty through a careful roughness or a hilarious indifference. "The Secret Life of Trees" has a strange sense of alienation. It washes over you, leaving a lasting mark.
——New Urban Literature

2016-10-01

人民文学出版社

99 Readers

123

9787020118946