Finished Nada, by Carmen Laforet. A bril­liant novel, espe­cially for one so young. Set in Barcelona, it’s the story of Andrea’s 18th year, which she lives with her uncles, aunt, grand­mother, and assorted other mem­bers of her extended fam­ily. A very eccen­tric, at times dan­ger­ous fam­ily. The novel starts slowly, almost as if the author, like her main char­ac­ter Andrea, were feel­ing out the sur­round­ings, tak­ing ten­ta­tive, uncer­tain steps. But it soon picks up steam, the prose becomes more assured and vibrant, and before long, the reader is thor­oughly involved in the story, the set­ting, and hop­ing for the best, though the signs are often dark and more than sor­did. I espe­cially like the rela­tion­ship that devel­oped between Andrea and Ena, the beau­ti­ful, blond, almost princess-​​like char­ac­ter who con­stantly sur­prises both the reader and Andrea. Surprises us because she breaks the stereo­types she should adhere to. Breaks them because she seems to have a will of her own that is con­trary, per­haps, even to the wishes of her author. Which leads me to the strongest impres­sion I have of this book. It evolves. It does not read like a for­mula. It does not do the things that lesser nov­els often do. As Harold Bloom often remarked about Shakespeare’s plays, the char­ac­ters within grow, change, throw curve balls our way. They are not “types”. For such a young author–Nada was pub­lished when she was only 24 – the book shows a wis­dom beyond her years and char­ac­ters who live, evolve, sur­prise, and anger us. That she wrote a novel with echoes from her own life makes it even more poignant for this reader, this new admirer of the artistry of Carmen Laforet.

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