The Shipyard by Juan Carlos Onetti
translated by Nick Caistor
The Shipyard is a novel without a plot. It is also the book that catapulted Juan Carlos Onetti to literary prominence in the world of Latin American fiction. And it is a brilliant read, both engrossing and enigmatic, moving yet troubling. In his own imaginary region of Santa Maria, Onetti brings the character of Larsen to life. He is, to borrow Onetti's own description, "....a heavy, small, aimless man, crouched there against the years he had lived in Santa Maria, against his return, against the low, full clouds, against misfortune."
After five years in exile, Larsen has returned to make a comeback, of sorts. He wants to become the general manager of the shipyard. Yet, at fiftysomething, there is the sense that he also feels the best parts of his life are behind him. At times, he seems to be nostalgic:
"For a few seconds, he could see himself at a unique point in time; at a specific age, in a determined place, with a past. It was as though he had just died, as if the rest could no longer be anything more than an act of memory, experience, calculation, idle curiosity."
This is more a novel of atmosphere than it is of ideas. Although Larsen is a fully imagined character, his relationships with the other people in this book are shadowy, at best. His two co-workers, Kunz and Galvez, are generic characters. The love interest, Angelica Ines, is more of a token female than anything else. Larsen does care for her, but his relations with women have never been significant.
"For many years, the conquest of a woman had been for him no more than an unavoidable rite, a task to be performed efficiently, expeditiously, in spite of or aside from the pleasure received.
He had done it, time and again, without concern or problems, like a boss paying a wage; carrying out his duty, confirming the other's submission."
In spite of his somewhat flippant attitude towards romance, Larsen does enjoy purchasing "caressing gifts" for the women he is involved with.
"Objects either useless or whose use was subtle, complicated; objects that struck up a rapid friendship with any hands or eyes that touched them, that went through the years
slowly wearing them out, docilely changing their meaning."
For Angelica, Larsen buys a gilt compact with a mirror ("square, brand, new, aggressive"). He presents the compact to her in a candle-lit room, telling her that the gift is "something to remember me by......so that you can open it and see those eyes, that mouth of yours. So that you understand, looking at yourself, that it is impossible to live without you."
Later he berates himself for his insincerity, knowing he is deceiving Angelica:
"...he felt a fool at his own attitude, at the distance between them, at his bent knee, the hat clutched across his stomach; he was painfully aware of his clumsiness, the failure of his gestures, yet full of admiration at the preciseness of the words he had just
uttered."
It is passages like these, where Onetti explores the character of Larsen, demonstrating that he is capable of intense introspection, that add so much depth and richness to this book. Unlike Gabriel Garcia Marquez, a painter of words and master of magic realism, there is no magic and very little color in Onetti's prose. It is direct, seamless, and straightforward. There are no intricate twists of plots, no surprise endings, no riddles to solve. Although there is a memorable denouement, it is neither resplendent nor unexpected. This is not a book to read for entertainment--it is for the true connoisseur. Gritty, atmospheric, and memorable, The Shipyard is a lot like life itself. I can't help but think that Larsen sums things up rather well when he says, ".....life holds no surprises; at least not for real men. We know life inside out, like we know women, if you'll allow me the comparison. As for the meaning of life, don't imagine I'm talking nonsense. I know a thing or two. We do things, but can't possibly do more than we do. Or to put it another way, we don't always choose."
Like the rest of us, Larsen feels trapped in a universe that creates his destiny for him. And yet, in spite of this common bond with humanity, he still feels isolated.
"He suddenly suspected what everyone comes to understand sooner or later, that he was the only person alive in a world peopled by phantoms, that communication was impossible and not even desirable, that compassion was worth more than hate, that a tolerant indifference, an attention divided between respect and sensuality, was all that could be asked for or given."
I've often been stymied in my attempts to put into words what makes a "great" novel. What makes a good author stand apart from a great one? Not all writers have profound thoughts--not all writers are capable of changing us in some way, however minimal. But if a writer does manage to alter us, to bring ideas into our mind that we might never have thought of, to stimulate us to explore ourselves and our own lives, than I would say he or she has achieved the most that an author could hope for. And I applaud Onetti for enabling me to see the world through a brand-new pair of glasses.
Thank you, Guillaume, for helping me discover the incomparable Onetti. I owe this literary experience entirely to you.
The Shipyard was published in 1961.
My rating for this book *****.
~Titania
"The Onetti experience is a curious one: readers end up feeling that they understand life better after a stay in this ghostly, tantalising world, only to lose the wisdom they have gained after a few hours of release from the spell. The form is subtle and delicate,
the message sordid and bleak, the flavour inimitable."
~The Guardian
translated by Nick Caistor
The Shipyard is a novel without a plot. It is also the book that catapulted Juan Carlos Onetti to literary prominence in the world of Latin American fiction. And it is a brilliant read, both engrossing and enigmatic, moving yet troubling. In his own imaginary region of Santa Maria, Onetti brings the character of Larsen to life. He is, to borrow Onetti's own description, "....a heavy, small, aimless man, crouched there against the years he had lived in Santa Maria, against his return, against the low, full clouds, against misfortune."
After five years in exile, Larsen has returned to make a comeback, of sorts. He wants to become the general manager of the shipyard. Yet, at fiftysomething, there is the sense that he also feels the best parts of his life are behind him. At times, he seems to be nostalgic:
"For a few seconds, he could see himself at a unique point in time; at a specific age, in a determined place, with a past. It was as though he had just died, as if the rest could no longer be anything more than an act of memory, experience, calculation, idle curiosity."
This is more a novel of atmosphere than it is of ideas. Although Larsen is a fully imagined character, his relationships with the other people in this book are shadowy, at best. His two co-workers, Kunz and Galvez, are generic characters. The love interest, Angelica Ines, is more of a token female than anything else. Larsen does care for her, but his relations with women have never been significant.
"For many years, the conquest of a woman had been for him no more than an unavoidable rite, a task to be performed efficiently, expeditiously, in spite of or aside from the pleasure received.
He had done it, time and again, without concern or problems, like a boss paying a wage; carrying out his duty, confirming the other's submission."
In spite of his somewhat flippant attitude towards romance, Larsen does enjoy purchasing "caressing gifts" for the women he is involved with.
"Objects either useless or whose use was subtle, complicated; objects that struck up a rapid friendship with any hands or eyes that touched them, that went through the years
slowly wearing them out, docilely changing their meaning."
For Angelica, Larsen buys a gilt compact with a mirror ("square, brand, new, aggressive"). He presents the compact to her in a candle-lit room, telling her that the gift is "something to remember me by......so that you can open it and see those eyes, that mouth of yours. So that you understand, looking at yourself, that it is impossible to live without you."
Later he berates himself for his insincerity, knowing he is deceiving Angelica:
"...he felt a fool at his own attitude, at the distance between them, at his bent knee, the hat clutched across his stomach; he was painfully aware of his clumsiness, the failure of his gestures, yet full of admiration at the preciseness of the words he had just
uttered."
It is passages like these, where Onetti explores the character of Larsen, demonstrating that he is capable of intense introspection, that add so much depth and richness to this book. Unlike Gabriel Garcia Marquez, a painter of words and master of magic realism, there is no magic and very little color in Onetti's prose. It is direct, seamless, and straightforward. There are no intricate twists of plots, no surprise endings, no riddles to solve. Although there is a memorable denouement, it is neither resplendent nor unexpected. This is not a book to read for entertainment--it is for the true connoisseur. Gritty, atmospheric, and memorable, The Shipyard is a lot like life itself. I can't help but think that Larsen sums things up rather well when he says, ".....life holds no surprises; at least not for real men. We know life inside out, like we know women, if you'll allow me the comparison. As for the meaning of life, don't imagine I'm talking nonsense. I know a thing or two. We do things, but can't possibly do more than we do. Or to put it another way, we don't always choose."
Like the rest of us, Larsen feels trapped in a universe that creates his destiny for him. And yet, in spite of this common bond with humanity, he still feels isolated.
"He suddenly suspected what everyone comes to understand sooner or later, that he was the only person alive in a world peopled by phantoms, that communication was impossible and not even desirable, that compassion was worth more than hate, that a tolerant indifference, an attention divided between respect and sensuality, was all that could be asked for or given."
I've often been stymied in my attempts to put into words what makes a "great" novel. What makes a good author stand apart from a great one? Not all writers have profound thoughts--not all writers are capable of changing us in some way, however minimal. But if a writer does manage to alter us, to bring ideas into our mind that we might never have thought of, to stimulate us to explore ourselves and our own lives, than I would say he or she has achieved the most that an author could hope for. And I applaud Onetti for enabling me to see the world through a brand-new pair of glasses.
Thank you, Guillaume, for helping me discover the incomparable Onetti. I owe this literary experience entirely to you.
The Shipyard was published in 1961.
My rating for this book *****.
~Titania
"The Onetti experience is a curious one: readers end up feeling that they understand life better after a stay in this ghostly, tantalising world, only to lose the wisdom they have gained after a few hours of release from the spell. The form is subtle and delicate,
the message sordid and bleak, the flavour inimitable."
~The Guardian
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