Lead Review
- Book: The Winterlings
- Location: Galicia
- Author: Cristina Sánchez-Andrade
The small, rural parish of fictional Tierra de Chá in Galicia, unchanged despite the onward march of time, provides the setting for Spanish author Cristina Sánchez-Andrade’s strange, unsettling novel The Winterlings.
After an absence of 25 years, sent away at the behest of their grandfather during the dark days of the Civil War – joining the ranks of children evacuated to England known as the Basque refugees – two sisters, Saladina and Dolores, return to the now abandoned home of their youth. There’s distrust and trepidation on all sides. The sisters have a terrible secret, but so too are the villagers keeping their lips sealed when it comes to the death of the girls’ grandfather.
Such mystery adds to the already fairy tale-like atmosphere. “We’ll be fine,” the sisters reassure each other as “the light dwindled, and the cold sharpened” on the first night of their return; not out of fear, we’re told, but from something closer to “suspicion, a strange intuition”.
This sense of foreboding befits the broader scene; one in which whispers of enchantment and superstition are in the air, particularly when it comes to the witchy sisters’ own heritage – one with her “pointy face and an aquiline nose,” the other with her “jet-black hair” and searing gaze: “those green eyes with golden flecks around the iris”.
The village is still thick with the memory of their grandfather, “an arresponsador, who knew the right prayers and incantations to ward off penuries and misfortune” and could diagnose any sickness with just a look at the patient in front of him.
There’s also a more modern intoxicant at work. Having fallen in love with the magic of the big screen during their time in England – Sunday afternoons spent in the darkness of the local cinema – when news reaches the village that Ava Gardner is coming to Spain to shoot Albert Lewin’s film Pandora and the Flying Dutchman, for which English-speaking lookalikes are wanted, the sisters think their dreams of becoming movie stars are about to come true.
The Winterlings is fairy-tale like in terms of character, language and plot. The sisters huddle together hiding from the villagers in their humble dwelling, “which had acquired the dimensions and appearance of a crumbling tower”. Sanchez-Andrade at times emphasises their vulnerability reminding the reader of the plight of vulnerable lost children in numerous fairy-tales. At other times, she focuses on their more sinister witch-like qualities. The villagers are certainly scared of them, perhaps fearing that they have inherited some of their grandfather’s ability as an arresponsador, and dare not approach them directly. The novel’s language is fairy-tale like in its simplicity, often pared down to the most simple, minor sentences, whilst at the same time being incredibly rich in imagery. Descriptions of flora and fauna are plentiful, but there is often a sinister element, like the pears which fall from the tree, making a booming sound that frightens the chickens.
This novel isn’t for everyone; it’s not a comfortable read. Sanchez-Andrade is very skilful at making the reader feel decidedly uneasy – you are never sure just how bad things are going to get – and she doesn’t spare us any of the graphic details of bodily functions. Personally, I think it will take me some time to get over the details of Mr Tenderlove’s method of creating false teeth and yet, paradoxically, some of the most gruesome imagery is the most powerful and beautiful. Tenderlove’s tender and loving account of the interior of the putrid mouths of Tierra de Cha is nothing short of superb.
There’s a lot in here to disturb the reader but much, much more to please and amaze.
Please wait...
