SPAIN BOOK REVIEW: ‘Winter in Madrid’ by C J Sansom

Winter in Madrid

1940: The Spanish Civil War is over, and Madrid lies ruined, its people starving, while the Germans continue their relentless march through Europe. Britain now stands alone while General Franco considers whether to abandon neutrality and enter the war.

Into this uncertain world comes Harry Brett: a traumatised veteran of Dunkirk turned reluctant spy for the British Secret Service. Sent to gain the confidence of old schoolfriend Sandy Forsyth, now a shady Madrid businessman, Harry finds himself involved in a dangerous game – and surrounded by memories.

Meanwhile Sandy’s girlfriend, ex-Red Cross nurse Barbara Clare, is engaged on a secret mission of her own – to find her former lover Bernie Piper, a passionate Communist in the International Brigades, who vanished on the bloody battlefields of the Jarama.

A vivid and haunting depiction of wartime Spain, Winter in Madrid is an intimate and compelling tale which offers a remarkable sense of history unfolding, and the profound impact of impossible choices.

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I must confess that Winter in Madrid is ‘that’ book for me – the one everyone seems to rave about, but I never ended up reading. I got this book five years ago, but after the first two chapters, put it aside, finding its ‘rich British toff’ language to be tiring. Then my father ‘borrowed’ the book, and I only got it back 18 months ago when he passed away. Still, only now could I push on and finally read.

The first forty or so pages set up the story of Harry Brett, a British war veteran invalided out after Dunkirk. Harry is recruited to be a spy in Madrid, thanks to his Spanish fluency and his connections within a public school upbringing (often called private school in most countries. Rich bratty kids). With all of the snobbish upper class language of Downton Abbey, but with none of the poise, Harry is convinced to fly to Madrid in 1940 and spy on an old school mate, who is claiming to have found gold deposits outside Madrid. If Franco has gold, he will rely less on the frugal aid Britain provides, and will be compelled to ditch their neutrality in the Second World War. Hitler is winning, England is looking weary, and newly fascist Spain could be a threat.

That is where we meet the star of the show – Madrid, 1940. The only word to be used is stark in its portrayal, and rightly so. The author has done an unquestionable job in his research of the time. The lives of those in Madrid are intolerable, and the spirits of the proud people are well and truly starving and crushed by the fascist regime. Slightly annoyingly, the book jumps between time periods, of Harry’s days in his snobby school, 1931 where he and friend Bernie first go to Madrid, and the city is down-trodden but on the verge of change, and 1936, when the war starts, and the souls of the working class are surging with hope. I suppose the schoolyard sections are there to show the life of Harry, his interaction with best buddy Bernie, and that of Sandy Forsyth, the rich brat who had gone to bigger things under Franco. The jumps in time period fill in all the blanks, but it means the book leaps about more often than most stories.

Along the way, we meet Barbara Clare, former lover of Communist Bernie, who spurned his upper-crust lifestyle for new ideals, and was listed as missing presumed killed in Jarama 1937. Barbara fell head over heels but Bernie left her in Madrid to fight on the front lines. Three years on, Barbara has moved on to Sandy, who ‘made her’, as he says in the most rapist-like way when he’s angry. Barbara is difficult to love – she had the courage to be in Spain during the war with the Red Cross, but has been reduced to being a borderline alcoholic, chain-smoking rich housewife (without the ring). She sighs her way through concerts with Franco while wearing fur, while most are freezing. She laments on her misery while living in almost paradise-like surroundings while Madrid languishes with hunger. She can’t get over poor  Bernie, who was never a smart guy but had plenty of good intentions. I rather hoped lung cancer would kick in through all Barbara’s cigarettes and waif-like point-of-view.

Harry pushes on, spying on Sandy and Barbara, meeting many nasty characters under the Franco regime. He attends lavish parties hosted by wartime murderers, but walks the streets of the poor as he remembers Bernie. As the web begins to twist around the characters, Harry meets Sofia in the most unusual circumstances. Sofia has had a tough working class life and is the epitome of the locals in the area. Harry spends more time with her, and finally realises he is sleep-walking through life thanks to his rich, snobbish school education. As the push to uncover Sandy’s gold mine continues, Harry and Barbara each keep a variety of secrets which unthreads their fragile minds and pits their survival against evil characters.

Bernie’s point of view tells the story of a British communist stuck in a concentration camp outside the town of Cuenca, and the harsh conditions imposed. Many people fail to realise the existence of Spanish concentration camps under Franco, never photographed and dismantled completely after use. All these characters conspire against each other and those around them, resulting in a massive twist ending where not everyone survives and all the characters are left with blood on their hands.

I know Madrid well and know Cuenca like the back of my hand, and reading about the places in this time period genuinely interests me. If you know little about the Spanish civil war or the Franco regime, this book will give you a realistic insight. The locations and descriptions are exquisite, and the author’s work on detail and political alliances of the time is stunning. But the conversation, the wealthy British language can be hard to take, leaving the conversations feeling stiff and unfulfilled over endless glasses of whiskey. The book lets down its female characters – Barbara is a flake (maybe weighed down by too many bad Madrid coffees?) and Sofia doesn’t get the prime position she deserves. Harry, the main character of the story, is a nice enough guy, though his fate never concerned me. Sandy is a terrific passive aggressive scumbag and Bernie left me so furious that I threw the book down in anger at the end. Not many books have that effect on me!  But rest assured, you will find yourself reading all the way to the end to see what happens to Harry, Bernie, Barbara, Sofia and Sandy. Whether you hope they live, or die in a fire-ball, is up to you.

My rating – 4/5 stars. Madrid is a scene-stealer and a study of eternal struggle, but those inhabiting her are too weak to challenge her dominance.

SPAIN BOOK REVIEW: ‘City of Sorrows’ by Susan Nadathur

CITY OF SORROWS is an emotionally intense story about how relationships can get complicated, and how life is not always the way we want it to be . . . Under normal circumstances, they never would have met. Andres is a wealthy Spaniard, Diego a poor Gypsy, Rajiv an Indian immigrant. On a dark road outside the city of Seville, the lives of these three men come crashing together. One man’s anger leads to an unthinkable act, triggering another man’s obsession and forcing the third to negotiate his way through the underside of life. The choices they make ripple outward, throwing not only their lives, but an entire city, into turmoil and change. A devastating loss. A dangerous obsession. CITY OF SORROWS is an epic story of love, death, romance and rage. About what controls us . . . and the choices we must make to be free.

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As a fan of the city of Seville, I jumped at the chance to read some Spain-based fiction. This book brings together three very different men on a path that could either save or destroy them.

The main protagonist is Diego, a young Gypsy living on the edge of poverty in Seville. We meet Diego young and married, with a seventeen-year-old wife who is already six months pregnant. The naivety and youth is a mix for a fun new relationship but their tale is not a happy one. When disaster befalls the young couple, the entire city of Seville burns with rage as racism between Spaniards and Gypsies literally ignites. Diego’s life falls to awful lows filled with crime and revenge, which could end him.

Diego crosses paths with Andres, a rich young Spaniard, and not a character many could indulge or come to like. Andres’ hatred of Gypsies, born out of a cliché and unfair stereotype in his own head, leads him to make a simple yet cruel decision that costs someone their life. Andres is mean, tortured, racist and lazy, and while he tried is best to redeem himself through the guise of caring for his young sister Adela, it can be hard to not wish Andres would step in front of a bus.

A third man, Rajiv, a young Indian fresh in the city of Seville, is a wholly likable character. I live in an Indian community, all those who have emigrated for a new life, and the story of this man mimics one of so many real people in the world. He is kind, intelligent and good in the face of all that troubles him – mostly Andres, who he is forced to work with and help. Rajiv is on a different path in life to the other two men in the book, yet their stories weave together in the heartache that swirls through Seville.

Susan Nadathur has done a wonderful job at creating characters that both endear and infuriate, and it shows the divide between Spaniards and Gypsies in Spain. It shows how three different men from three different walks of life and effect, hurt and save one another, as well as explaining the inside details of Gypsy life. As chapters flip between the point of view of each man, one cannot help but want to turn the pages to see where their favourite character ends up next.

Learn more about Susan Nadathur here

SPAIN BOOK REVIEW: The Killing of el Niño Jesús: ‘A Max Cámara Short Story’ by Jason Webster

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‘It was, thought Cámara, a uniquely Valencian affair, being both tacky and tragic at the same time. But most of all, it was surreal; nothing quite like it could happen anywhere else in Spain’

This Christmas, we are treated to Max Cámara short story from Webster, who has previously penned three full-length Cámara novels, with a fourth due in mid 2014. We find our favourite Spanish detective, hungover on Christmas morning, and with his partner and friend Torres, off to solve a murder in one of Valencia’s mind-bloggling disco-brothels.

Immersed in a mostly naked set of ‘dancers’, done up as nativity scene members, and one hungry goat, Cámara and Torres need to find who killed one of the dance orgy troupe. In true style, Cámara does his best not to raise an eyebrow as the amusing and quirky dwarf Jesus, Joseph, Mary, Father Christmas, the Camel-man and three naked angels recall a night in the brothel that is stuck in 1985 for all eternity.

For an added treat of readers, Cámara’s grandfather Hilaro makes an appearance with his ever present Spanish proverbs and no-nonsense attitudes. If you’re tired of sickly-sweet Christmas stories and events this year, read this and laugh at a far more fun reality, Spanish style.

As an added bonus, you also get the first chapter of the first in Max Cámara series, Or The Bull Kills You, which is a truly excellent read and fantastic introduction to the Cámara series.

If you have never witnessed the brothels just outside Valencia, or an all-night disco party, perhaps you haven’t really lived. I don’t want to spend Christmas with a goat high on cocaine, but it’s the best Christmas story I’ve read in a while.

Buy The Killing of el Niño Jesús here

Visit Webster’s website – jasonwebster.net

Read my reviews for both  the last two Cámara novels – A Death in Valencia and The Anarchist Detective

You can also pre-order your copy of The Spy with 29 Names: The story of the Second World War’s most audacious double agent now

SPAIN BOOK REVIEW: ‘Franco’s Crypt: Spanish Culture and Memory Since 1936’ by Jeremy Treglown

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An open-minded and clear-eyed reexamination of the cultural artifacts of Franco’s Spain –True, false, or both

Spain’s 1939–75 dictator, Francisco Franco, was a pioneer of water conservation and sustainable energy. Pedro Almodóvar is only the most recent in a line of great antiestablishment film directors who have worked continuously in Spain since the 1930s. As early as 1943, former Republicans and Nationalists were collaborating in Spain to promote the visual arts, irrespective of the artists’ political views.

Censorship can benefit literature. Memory is not the same thing as history.

Inside Spain as well as outside, many believe—wrongly—that under Franco’s dictatorship, nothing truthful or imaginatively worthwhile could be said or written or shown. In his groundbreaking new book, Franco’s Crypt: Spanish Culture and Memory Since 1936, Jeremy Treglown argues that oversimplifications like these of a complicated, ambiguous actuality have contributed to a separate falsehood: that there was and continues to be a national pact to forget the evils for which Franco’s side (and, according to this version, his side alone) was responsible.

The myth that truthfulness was impossible inside Franco’s Spain may explain why foreign narratives (For Whom the Bell Tolls, Homage to Catalonia) have seemed more credible than Spanish ones. Yet La Guerra de España was, as its Spanish name asserts, Spain’s own war, and in recent years the country has begun to make a more public attempt to “reclaim” its modern history. How it is doing so, and the role played in the process by notions of historical memory, are among the subjects of this wide-ranging and challenging book.

Franco’s Crypt reveals that despite state censorship, events of the time were vividly recorded. Treglown looks at what’s actually there—monuments, paintings, public works, novels, movies, video games—and considers, in a captivating narrative, the totality of what it shows. The result is a much-needed reexamination of a history we only thought we knew.

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‘Franco’s Crypt: Spanish Culture and Memory Since 1936’

When opening this book, a reader could easily expect to sit down an examine Franco’s effect on Spanish art during his dictatorship. Instead, this book extends far further, into many aspects of the Franco period, so much so that art ends up being only a fraction of the story.

The first part of Franco’s crypt gives a clear introduction to the Franco period. The book titles refers to Valle de los Caídos, where Franco is buried outside Madrid, and his behemoth is discussed, along with other monuments to the time period. The book talks about Spain’s left and how the crypt is a symbol for all things horrid, while also managing to be a figure for the Spanish right, their religion and their vast power under Franco. The opening of the book delves into the subject of bodies buried in unmarked mass graves throughout Spain, and goes through the reality of digging up such a grave. The section is laced with a feeling of resignation; that after  all this time, whose bodies are they and the reasoning behind digging is uncertain. It is a subject that deserves far more opinions and time placed upon it. 

The author gives a feeling that ‘memory’ is not such a simple beast; rather that the name encompasses many things. This could be certainly true, as memories and history are merely a recollection of the winners in a heated battle. With Spain being divided, by being its own enemy, all ideas, social and cultural norms, politics and attitudes are up for debate.

One chapter is dedicated to dam building in Spain under Franco. The voice of the book pulls back and forward between talking of the need to progress and the results of such ambitious, and sometimes failed, projects as well as the reality of what it did to the poorer people, who saw no benefit of the projects. This back-and-forward feeling in opinions distinguishes itself throughout the book.

What this book does do is lay out all the various elements of life under Franco, and how it is perceived in modern times. There can be no one element which accurately portrays Francoism and its effects, rather embracing that all walks of life, levels of wealth and social standing, and everyday opinion shape what is called ‘history.’ Treglown takes a (well-needed) swipe at the Spanish Biographic Dictionary, done by the Royal Academy of History in 2011. The glaring pieces of detail left out, and the additions and exclusions in this so-called encyclopaedia of Spain’s history is the perfect analogy for how Spain is viewed today.

This book does tell much of arts during Franco’s reign. To say Franco suppressed the arts could be an unfair comment. The book talks of great artists such as Joan Miró, Antoni Tàpies and Antonio Saura. It talks of Spanish art making its way around the world, to be seen by overseas audiences more so than ever before. Writer Camilo José Cela won the Nobel Prize for literature. Filmmakers Pedro Almodóvar and Luis Buñuel were able to produce their films in Spain (though Buñuel, fresh from exile, had his work again banned). The book makes little mention of artists whose arts were not selected for greatness, and why, and a recurring theme throughout the book is that women barely managed to scrape their way into the history books. While Spain had its own share of female painters and writers, it seems fair to say women were not able to make much headway in the art houses of Spain. Treglown touches on the fact a feudal system still persisted among artists; not many artists were working class, no doubt out of the need to earn a living as best they could. While notable exceptions to this class divide are celebrated, all it does is highlight the inequality of the age.

Franco’s Crypt, page 102 – ‘Besides, while in the nineteenth century all the talent painters had to emigrate, in the Franco period they were once again living on the Peninsula. Did the unexpected development occur because of or despite the regime?’

Treglown answers that the regime did neither or both. Franco allowed Spanish artists to speak and their word spread worldwide, thus creating an image of Spain. Whether Franco liked it or not, we will never truly know. The book does not dwell much on drama or performance art, or on poetry, which is a shame.

One area of considerable divided option is the author’s chapters on the transition to democracy in the 1970’s. Opinion (or propaganda) tends to say that the left were hushed up during this period, and that the voices of the people went unheard during this period. Treglown gives examples of media accounts, historical studies and publications and documentaries which spoke out in this period against Franco, and of past crimes. He attempts to show that opinions of leftist Spain did have a voice. However,  the so-called ‘pact of forgetting’ does remain in place, and those guilty were never tried for crimes, so to what effect these limited voices had is questionable. A roll-call of those in power after the transition says a lot of the effect of leftist ideas for change.

The reality of the era is that Franco modernised his country. After war in the 30’s, the violence of the 40’s and the struggling 50’s, Spain did begin to prosper in the 60’s, by becoming a US ally, with all important tourism and through economic growth. Little mention of the early 70’s, with inflation, high increases in the cost of living, and Spaniards returning home in search of work, isn’t touched upon. The book tries to sit on the fence in the opinions of Franco and his regime, in an effort to tell truths otherwise hidden. However, it shows without doubt that Spain lacked any decent authority figures for a long period. Some argue the Catholic right-wingers lost much of their hold on Spain towards the end of Franco’s reign, but a quick look who has influenced Spain since Franco, and at the laws being created in Spain in 2013 by the PP government, suggests an evil seed has been allowed to flourish. Liberalism have have got hold for some time, but the future remains murky for Spain.

Treglown should be praised for putting together a book so laden with information. This is no summer-sun read, but if you want to learn about Spain, understand the country you have moved to, or wish to make sense of a divided nation, be aware that this book is written with a biased prose. I can’t be certain it shows that Franco wasn’t the oppressor he was made out to be, but it shows that despite the regime, creativity and the human spirit continued to fight. I am a unashamed leftie and won’t praise anything Franco achieved, and this book didn’t sit well with me for the entire length.

Buy Franco’s Crypt here

SPAIN BOOK REVIEW: ‘Inside the Tortilla: A Journey in Search of Authenticity’ by Paul Read

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Cover art via speakingofspain.com

Life has a habit of throwing obstacles in your path for a good reason: They arise to challenge the undaunted, or deter the uncommitted. Either way, when you stumble into a town that the guide books have overlooked, you must choose between quickly moving on, or staying to see what the obstacles conceal.

When one man and his faithful hound turn their backs on the Mediterranean Sea and set out on a journey into the interior of the Deep South, they go in search of a town that still cooks it’s food rather than shops for it. Tired of the disposable nature of modern living and its embrace of microwaved food, this search for authentic recipes unveils not just a series of gastronomic secrets, but the rich history, culture, politics and diet of a charismatic country as it struggles out of the shadow of its past and into the searing light of its future.

Inside the Tortilla: A Journey in Search of Authenticity

I am generally suspicious of anyone using the word ‘authentic’ when it comes to Spain. There will be half a million Brits living in Spain right now, penning out their ‘new life in Spain’ book, thinking they are special. There will be legal hoops to jump through, a charming neighbour named Juan, lazy builders, translation mishaps… blah, blah, blah. I gave up reading such books a while back, after reading a memoir so bad I tossed it out a window. But when Paul Read told the story of searching for authentic tortilla in Andalucia, there was finally a ‘living in Spain’ book with reading.

Many pronounce to have found ‘the real Spain’ (as if there can be a one-size-fits-all Spain). If they do find such a beast, they pen the tale all wrong. Not so with Read – Inside the Tortilla reads like you’re in the moment, hearing the words from the author himself, who spares the clichés. Read’s words rang true about the Mediterranean coast being a mess, and the food being disappointing. Tourism is the ultimate double edged sword – it’s a huge industry, making money and providing employment, but it also poisons all it touches. Read goes where many an expat doesn’t bother – away from the packaged coast of Spain.

Enter the town nicknamed ‘La Clave’ in the hills outside Granada, and a more natural way of life. We find Read finding his way, making a new life far removed from the path many expats take. We meet Andrés, who gives rise to the nickname ‘Gazpacho Monk’ as the author is known. The book dives into everyday meetings with those in the town, the fiestas that dominate Spanish life, the annoyances of having a car towed, and throwing what is akin to a Brontosaurus hide at a dog living on a roof.

Through the story lies recipes, the classics that the Spanish enjoy eating, recipes that exist solely because of Spain’s once simple way of life. The book also tells of the town’s history, of the first Spanish Republic, and its ‘Revolution of Bread and Cheese’, and of Spain’s more recent battles, with the 2007 historical memory laws and the threat of opening old wounds. Strategies to cope with the Spanish heat are included, along tips for eating almejas (clams) – a picture of King Alfonso is required, or a suitable substitute such as Real Madrid  memorabilia or a toilet roll.

Anyone who knows Spain well will find themselves nodding in agreement at the Spanish way of life, like the old ladies gossiping at the bus stop, or the act of getting a recipe with your mortgage. Those who don’t know about living in Spain can get an introduction into what the country is really like when you step away of the microwaved version of the country found along the coast. This is no guide to moving to Spain; this book is a success story, told by someone who made a real effort to build a new life.

Buy Inside The Tortilla here

Meet Paul Read, the ‘Gazpacho Monk’