[Review] "We Are Green and Trembling,” by Gabriela Cabezón Cámara; translated from Spanish by Robin Myers

 

"We Are Green and Trembling" was, by far, the most intriguing premise from the International Booker Prize Long List.
However, I had to learn a very important lesson: not to trust blurbs online for a new publication.

The novel centers around the mystical and adventurous life of Antonio de Erauso, a real historical character from 16th-century Spain. Antonio was raised in a noble Basque family, and most importantly, was born a woman. He was originally destined to a quiet life in a convent, as per his father’s wish. But at the age of 15, Antonio escapes the convent, assumes a male identity, and leads a life on the run in Spain, until he lands in Southern America, becoming an active member of the Conquistadores that first started the massacre of the Native population.

The story is structured in an incredibly ambitious manner, with multiple intersecting layers:
- First, there is the letter Antonio is patiently redacting to his aunt back in Spain, as part of an oath he has made to the Virgin Mary to have his life spared from execution.
- Then, we have the present, where Antonio is nursing and protecting two native girls and two little monkeys in the middle of the jungle.
- And to conclude, the past and present, which haunt Antonio and are from others’ perspectives, as the conquest of the New World continues.

In the first half of the book, we are mostly jumping in and out of the letter that the main character is writing to his aunt, recounting his adventures, the past, and his regrets, and the jungle, where the two children interrogate Antonio about life, the white man, gender, and reality itself. It would be unfair to say that the author is probably not incredibly skilled: she switches narrative registers with extreme ease. The letter is fluttery, almost baroque in style, while the present reality is simple, often made up of mostly brief dialogue which uses both English and the Native's language. At times, we find ourselves in Antonio's past, or in the shoes of those that have influenced it, such as a sinful bishop or a gruesome captain. 

Gabriela is not kind to the reader: we get detailed descriptions of massive acts of suicide from the soldiers, religious psychosis during the conquest, and torture conducted on the Natives. We even get a glimpse into the abuse of power within the military system, in a world in which no consequences seem to exist.

Although really slow, I found this first half perhaps the most cohesive. The writing is not up my alley, a sort of flowery poetry which simply does not suit my taste, but it was fully readable and I dare to say at times even enjoyable.
I found myself lost, however, in the second part of the events.

Here the magical realism elements kick in arrogantly, leaving very little room to understand the meaning of most interactions or events. I am sure to have missed at least half of the symbolic meanings the author is attributing to the characters, environment, and even the animals, but I do not really feel like it is the reader's fault.
The second half feels rushed, and the first half stretched out. The language and the structure are experimental and ambitious, and do not lend themselves to bringing clarity to the tale. The description of the environment, the animals, the magic that the jungle carries within itself, and undeniably gorgeous, is probably where the writer's inclination for poetry shines the most, while the letter to Antonio's aunt is where it hurts the reader the most.

Moreover, to the chapter's length and construction, the jumping was constant. It almost caused me motion sickness. One is not able to feel invested neither in the story nor in the retelling that the main character is sketching of his life to his beloved relative.

 
To conclude, I found it especially difficult to reconcile the person that Antonio is with the rescuing of the native girls, with his subsequent actions: Anto De Erauso was a violent, brutish man that felt no remorse in torturing and massacring the indigenous population. This is both the historical and fictional truth for the novel. However, in the retelling by Gabriela, he is brought to a change of heart thanks to his prisony and escape through what he believed to be divine intervention. From this detail, the historical truth is changed with a symbolic truth, where Natives turned around their fate and improved their condition through their innate magical capabilities, becoming not only protectors of their own land but also of Antonio himself.
Simply put, this switch in narrative did not sit right with me. After a show of such cruelties and historically accurate violence, it felt almost naive to believe in a spirit of the forest or the possibility of a magical transformation.

Overall, I did not find this novel to be impactful nor did I enjoy the writing. And sadly, I was not even entertained.
A ⭐⭐ read from me: likely well written for those that enjoy more poetic work, and undoubtedly an experiment in fiction, but not an effective one in my opinion.