The puppeteer Dingo's carriage hits a young child while passing through the village of Artemilla, the miserable village from which he fled years ago to join a troupe of acrobats, aspiring to make his entire life a continuous festival. He resorts to his old friend, Juan Medinao, to help him in this predicament, but his contact with the village master will finally awaken the details of the painful past, and with them he will begin a relentless journey through memory, recalling his relationship with his father, his mother’s suicide, and the mixture of hatred and love that he felt towards his brother. Stepbrother.
In this small-sized novel, but with a big impact, Anna Maria Matute is able to delve into the depths of her characters, searching for the deep scars that childhood leaves in their souls, revealing with keen insight and high sensitivity the most complex and profound human feelings, in a dense narrative that makes room for emotional feelings. Inferiority, fear, isolation, and hatred can tell their story too.
In the introduction to his first collection of short stories, the Chinese storyteller Lu Xun says that he found himself driven to write because he felt intense loneliness. He was not able to forget, or, rather, he was not able to forget completely; So, he wrote stories about the past.
This is exactly what prompted me to write: overwhelming loneliness. I also failed to forget, so I wrote what remained in my memory about Syria before the war.
Sometimes, exiles write about nostalgia for a country they miss and wish to return to. This is not like the nostalgia of Syrians: the country has completely changed, and even disappeared. We long for a place that does not exist, except in memory. And memory, as you know, writhes, colors, and churns. I am no exception, and my memory does not claim to be completely faithful to reality, but I tried hard to write exactly what you dictated to me.
Hopes, dreams, and losses are all fading quickly, and so is the country, and what remains of it is in us: as if it were a half-smile, or a summer cloud, or a bright comet passing quickly, only to disappear completely moments later, before the eyes of curious, bored viewers, indifferent to its fate...
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