Quim Monzó's Guadalajara is an interesting book. Originally written in the Catalan, and translated into English, Guadalajara consists of a series of stories that are simultaneously delightfully and frustratingly absurd, almost in the style of Ionesco's Rhinocéros.
Guadalajara was first written in 1996, but wasn't translated into English until 2011. The book, which was awarded the Serra d'Or in 1997. Monzó has written a handful of other books before that, three others of which have been translated into English.
The first story tells of a family who traditionally cuts of the ring finger on their child's hand upon his ninth birthday and their son, who resists the tradition out of fear and desire to play the harp; one of the later stories, of a prophet who forgets his prophecies as soon as he moves to share them, and his son, whom the gift of prophecy makes famous.
The stories do not ever come to a point in the traditional sense, though they do seem to make a sort of sense, particularly after you have read several of the tales. This exercise in the absurd is ironic and fascinating, and extremely readable. The translation seems smooth (given that I don't read Catalan, it's hard to say for sure), but it simultaneously retains a sense of being foreign without losing anything to awkward syntax. And each of the stories--both because of the style and plot itself, as well as the questions that you will invariably still hope to answer--leaves you wanting a bit more.
I would recommend Guadalajara to any fans of the absurdist tradition; one of Monzó's stories, which features a man who cannot leave his apartment, despite the fact that he can easily see outside, and others can come in, put me a bit in mind of Gogol's The Nose. I highly recommend this collection of fiction.
Gaudalajara
Quim Monzó
Open Letter Books 2011
Original Language: Catalan
