Days since I wanted to start the novel by Murakami to the South of the border, West of the Sun. I got it through MuchosLibros.com. Japanese Tokyo Blues and Sputnik, Mi Amor, I had read but this another novel tells a story that shocked me. Two guys who met in College, are separated and each one makes your life. The boy goes to College, graduated, working, married, has two daughters and leads a full life. However, the girl appears and everything starts to tremble. The vital structure of the protagonist wobbles before beauty and memories that join the re-emerged.
However, it could not be, I could not start the novel. Carlos Villarino sent me a copy of his new book of short stories El Otro Infierno. I had no opportunity to review it till the night. I went to the rocker that I have in the fourth with Murakami and the book of Carlos, the latter to review it. I was browsing it several times until it appeared before my eyes a Word. There are words that irremediably bind us to people, places, times, and This is one of them.
Do much there behind (or inside) of a Word? I watch the knees which leave uncovered to the dew that weaves us bones, that is the line where dwells the word and the word is knees. Everytime I get me hidden among other words, the mind rushes to my university days. There was a girl who sometimes appeared with a jean miniskirt and bare left insulting legs to chivalry. Of course, my eyes were not only limited to a particular part of your legs. They tend to eat everything and almost never leave nothing. However, when today I memory of those strong legs, what becomes most vivid are, precisely, their knees. Thus, I find it impossible to see that Word and that the ghost of the nymph does not again to demolish me in memories. So that of my nymph knees or the knees of the girl in the story, or perhaps both, I was forced to throw across the poor Murakami and start reading the book of Carlos. The book consists of 14 stories divided into two parts. A first part where the protagonist is the memory, and a second part, which will be the conflicts characteristic of modern man who carry the lead singer. The first part consisting of 7 stories is a chain of nightmares. Let’s say that they are like halls of the human mind, corridors that make up the House of a mind disposed. I have read the first part. In the second part you already knew some stories as Camila and the creatures of the night which appears in the anthology of the city for the ORB, and under the sign of Cancer that Carlos had sent me for an anthology that did and that never appeared ridiculous moral itching. And assuming that, five unknown stories for me, are an overriding hodgepodge, the book is extraordinary. Course, after reading his first collection of short stories Menarquias and other fluids and those who go for this, I almost impossible tales missing me for reading are a hodgepodge. I don’t know if the book is already in Maracaibo, but insurance already circulating in Caracas. It is highly recommended. A collection of stories is where nobody spared the protagonists or the reader or the author. Carlos Villarino is a powerful voice of the new Venezuelan narrative. A voice that has to be followed closely.