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Our Assessment:
B : enjoyably overwrought novel of ca. 1930 Barcelona See our review for fuller assessment.
From the Reviews: - Return to top of the page - The complete review's Review:
Private Life, first published in 1932 (but only translated into English now), is very much a novel of its times, the second part -- jumping ahead five years from the first -- finding the characters in the contemporary thick of things, after the shift from the dictatorship of Miguel Primo de Rivera to the short-lived Spanish Republic under which Catalonia briefly enjoyed much greater autonomy.
The story of the Lloberolas was one of many family histories that come to a distasteful and impoverished end, without even a reaction to lend it some tragic nobility or, at very least, a scandalous or picturesque vivacity.Frederic -- "the hereu, the heir and firstborn" -- and his brother Guillem (and sister Josefina, who however had: "escaped the conflagration" through marriage) are: "Don Tomès's torment" -- but the pater familias had already steered the family to the point where it's all hopeless anyway. Typically: Frederic's brain was in a quixotic lather. At every step reality was revealing his mediocrity and his failure but, if nothing more, the blood of the Lloberolas was good for fabricating illusions.Frederic finds himself in a spot of trouble over a debt which is about to come due -- and which he of course does not have the funds to cover. He'd rather not force his father to provide surety -- but assumes that, in order to prevent scandal, Don Tomès would. But it's brother Guillem who bails him out, having quite a card up his sleeve, as it turns out he has been rather intimately acquainted with the man Frederic is in debt to. Indeed, the whole affair not only extricates Frederic from one financial mess but lands Guillem with a handy bit of blackmail material, which he takes full, cruel advantage of. Frederic's idyll with his mistress -- and Guillem's putting the screws to his blackmail-victim -- last a mere "four months and three days"; it is a touch typical for the book that when Frederic's mistress Rosa Trènor resurfaces in the story, it is as a provider of abortions -- and, in news that falls: "like a bombshell in the world of the posh" that Guillem will wind up marrying the widow of his victim. Decadence prevails -- but in the second half of the novel decadence takes on an entirely new air, too, with the advent of the Republic, the noble classes initially fearing for their lives (and status) but soon enough playing right along. When the novel begins: Outward morality was so fastidious in these families that often it was considered scandalous merely to drop the name of a famous actress or dancer, or intelligent author, or the title of a novel. During visits to the lady of the house no lips would ever mention a topic of conversation that might be considered even remotely freeBut times change -- fast. Barcelona is suddenly a happening metropolis, it: "shimmered like a shooting star". And the goings-on get considerably wilder -- though of course some try to still maintain at least certain appearances. Much of the second half of the novel centers on Frederic's children (whom he brought: "into the world without a drop of enthusiasm"), as they begin to mature, especially daughter Maria Lluïsa. A failure in everything, Frederic also failed as a father: His influence on his children was disastrous. If ever there was a man who didn't have the slightest idea of what it meant to educate a child, it was Frederic.Maria Lluïsa tries to take a sensible path, but of course also gets caught up in the times, the opportunities, and the urges that come with maturity. Sagarra ruthlessly exposes personal weakness, from sad sack Frederic to the Barò de Falset, driven to his death by his shameful excesses. Sagarra also revels in the contrasts between affected claims and appearances and realities. Under the Republic there's a more open embrace of the more shocking, but many of the people are stuck in their skin and habits; typically, Frederic is not a practicing Catholic any more -- but can't admit that even to those closest to him: his "anticlericalism was cowardly and shameful, like everything else about him". Much of Private Life -- the action, and Sagarra's writing -- is overwrought -- admittedly often appropriately so. Occasionally, Sagarra goes completely overboard in wild abandon: Like a marvelous sea anemone found at water's bottom, with a wary contractile antennae full of corrosive viscosities that open up at a given moment and expand in a multicolored swoon that brings to mind perfectly denatured chrysanthemums and perfectly artificial orchids, so was the soul of that woman, and her sex and her ferocity and her joy and her enthusiasm and her tenderness began to liquefy, released and rendered in a gelatinous mystery of effusion, in a sighing melody beyond physiology, in a perspiration perfumed with a whole gamut of ultramarine atavisms and dark nights lit by the glow of shooting stars.Stylistically, Private Life is all over the map, leaning obviously on everyone from Balzac to Oscar Wilde. From elaborate description to the succinct (and often dismissive) summing-up, Sagarra is hit and miss ("He was a bit past his prime, but he had a perfect command of the use of gardenias and of double-entendres"), but it's not so much that inconsistency that's problematic, but rather that Sagarra can't quite settle on a voice and approach of his own. Part of Sagarra's difficulty presumably also stems from the fact that he suddenly found himself within a completely different world: Private Life was conceived and written as Spain (and Catalonia, and Barcelona) made the transition from dictatorship to Republic, and Sagarra wound up writing from within the midst of turbulence that wasn't even close to settling -- and it's all too visible in the novel, the shift too radical for him to fully digest and work into his work. The Lloberolas are a fine family to put at the heart of the novel, but Sagarra seems to feel much more comfortable dealing with them (and his peripheral characters) more individually. He describes their various relationships with one another, but generally only in snapshot momentary detail, and the novel falls a bit short as family-portrait, as he simply can't comfortably juggle them all together. That said, the individual stories and episodes are often very good, and well done. Private Life is a fine novel of its time and place -- if too immediate, perhaps; it could have used more distance. Sagarra is an often very good but rarely great writer, not quite up to the challenges he gives himself -- though he seems to have a lot of fun trying. And Private Life is good -- and sometimes delicious -- fun. - M.A.Orthofer, 19 November 2015 - Return to top of the page - Private Life:
- Return to top of the page - Catalan author Josep Maria de Sagarra lived 1894 to 1961. - Return to top of the page -
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