When I Sing, Mountains Dance

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And when the spring breezes blow up the valley; when the spring sun shines on last year‘s withered grass on the river banks; and on the lake; and on the lake’s two white swans; and coaxes The new grass out of the spongy soil in the marshes—who could believe I’m such a day that this peaceful, grassy valley brooded over the story of our past; and over it’s spectres? People right along the river, along the banks wear side-by-side lie many paths— and fresh spring breeze blows through the valley in the sunshine. On such a day the sun is stronger than the past”. Es evocador, triste, bello, muy sensitivo, con un sentimiento tan puro y vívido que ha logrado teletransportarme a esa zona de los Pirineos de los que habla: la casita de Matavaques, Mia, Jaume, Lluna, e Hilari (¡Ay! Hilari🖤) la dureza de la vida en la montaña, el paso del tiempo, las tradiciones, leyendas... Probablemente, eso es solo quedarse en la superficie. Es muy difícil hablar de esta novela, de verdad. Más aún, tratar de decir de que va. En realidad, no es más que un despliegue de elementos que construyen un escenario rural y montañoso a través de una escritura tan poética como detallista. Sin embargo, es la originalidad de los dieciocho narradores, pasando desde un rayo hasta un corzo o un oso, donde aparece la magia y crea cierta fascinación (o rechazo) por la novela. Canto yo y la montaña baila se va deshojando como una flor en monólogos internos mientras parece no contar nada, pero a la vez cuenta muchas cosas. Historias pequeñas, anécdotas, sensaciones y momentos de los habitantes (humanos o no) de un pequeño pueblo de Los Pirineos. Towards the end of When I Sing, we are swept up in the ineluctable sadness of all that cannot be undone and of an accompanying sense of release, as Mia asserts that being sorry for something and forgiving somebody might happen at the same time, might be two sides of the same coin, and one’s sorrow might co-exist with one’s love, however far that sorrow or that love has had to travel.

Moving to impossible wildernesses, here is an architectural one. Susanna Clarke’s Piranesi summons a world of endless interior halls filled with sculptures, with an open sky and tidal floods. As with The Vorrh, a prolonged stay in the halls seems to have a crippling psychological effect on humans. As Piranesi, its ever-cheerful main character, writes: “May your Paths be safe, your Floors unbroken and may the House fill your eyes with Beauty”.

By R.L. Maizes

Tenemos así una serie de capítulos con protagonista propio, pero que juntos irán conformando un minucioso retrato de la vida de esas tierras, de sus gentes, sus costumbres y sus leyendas. Canto yo y la montaña baila no es una novela histórica, pero habla del inevitable paso del tiempo, de las cicatrices que deja en la memoria: lo que sucede en lugares pequeños permanece más tiempo en el recuerdo. Un drama tan realista como cruda puede ser la vida en esas montañas. Un homenaje a un lugar y a su historia escrito con pulso firme y certero. It's kind of a weirdly-constructed story. It's linear with each chapter told from a different perspective. That's not weird, that's pretty common. What's weird is it's kind of like a documentary of a small area in the Pyrenees and those "interviewed" include a thunderstorm, some ghosts, mushrooms, several people who live in the area, and a deer, among others.

There's no plot, the reader just follows along as some element from the last chapter becomes the focal point of the following chapter and through this string of connected slice-of-life moments, one learns about the entire region from people in town and the water nymphs in the mountains and the ghosts who wander. There's a whole gamut of emotions in each chapter and a wide range of personalities but it all comes together to create a kind of whimsical but somehow meaningful experience. When I Sing, Mountains Dance, winner of the European Union Prize, is a giddy paean to the land in all its interconnectedness, and in it Sola finds a distinct voice for each extraordinary consciousness: the lightning bolts, roe-deer, mountains, the ghosts of the civil war, the widow Sió and later her grown children, Hilari and Mia, as well as Mia’s lovers with their long-buried secrets and their hidden pain. The coiled snails shuddered in their secluded homes, godless and without a prayer, knowing that if they didn’t drown, they would emerge redeemed to breathe the dampness in. This is the route of the retreat into exile. Where the Republicans fled. Civilians and soldiers. Toward France. It’s a damp morning. I inhale, bringing all that clean, wet, pure mountain air deep into my lungs. That aroma of earth and tree and morning. It’s no surprise the people up here are better, more authentic, more human, breathing this air every day. And drinking the water from this river. And looking out every day at the majesty of these legendary mountains, so beautiful it pains the soul.No nos engañemos. Pese a su buena fama y el Premi Llibres Anagrama 2019 o European Union Prize for Literature, Canto yo y la montaña baila no es un libro para todo el mundo. Requiere esfuerzo por parte del lector, gusto por la prosa lírica y conectar al completo con la novela. Las voces narradoras trascienden la página, una y otra vez, pese a no siempre llegan a conquistar del todo al lector. Sin embargo, algunos episodios fascinan por completo (acordaros cuando leáis el del corzo o el oso). Pero si de algo estoy seguro, es que todos te llevan a sentir, vivir y respirar la montaña. Un pequeño pueblo en el corazón del Pirineo, con sus gentes y con la intensidad propia de quien vive fundido con la natur This book chronicles the relationship the author established with the Lykovs, a family who had survived in complete isolation in the depths of the Russian taiga for more than 40 years. Peskov recounts their struggle to survive in the taiga’s extreme conditions, which often contrasts with the cheerful merriness they feel when going about their daily routine, despite the doubt that the disparity between their life choices and the direction of civilisation awakens in them.