Alia Trabucco Zerán; trans. Sophie Hughes
The Remainder by Alia Trabucco Zerán, translated from the Spanish by Sophie Hughes, is set in Chile after the end of the Pinochet dictatorship and the restoration of democracy. It focuses on three individuals whose parents were allies involved in the struggle to overthrow the dictator. The chapters alternate between the first-person narrative of Iquela, the young woman whose mother was one of the anti-Pinochet activists, and the rambling stream of consciousness of her quasi-sibling and childhood friend, Felipe, whose father was killed for his political activities. Weaving in and out of both narratives are drug-induced hallucinations that blur the lines between what is real and what is imagined.
The novel opens with a 1988 flashback as a young Iquela recalls the gathering in her home on the day the radio announcer declared Pinochet had lost the election. There is tension in the room with Hans, a German, accusing Iquela’s father of being a snitch. Iquela doesn’t fully understand what is happening. She is more concerned with emulating Hans’ daughter, Paloma, who is a few years older than her.
Years later, Iquela is on her way to pick Paloma up from the airport. Paloma’s mother has died, and her daughter is honoring her wish to be buried in her native Chile. But a volcanic eruption diverts the plane carrying her mother’s body to Argentina. So Felipe, Iquela, and Paloma rent a hearse to retrieve her mother’s corpse for burial in Chile.
It is the telling of this simple plot which makes it a compelling read, earning it a place on the short list for the 2019 Man Booker International Prize. The chapters are numbered in reverse order, beginning with chapter 11. The numbered chapters consist of Felipe’s rambling stream of consciousness. He sees dead people everywhere and has assigned himself the task of counting the corpses so the number tallies with the official death toll with no remainders. His narrative is haunting, confused, and confusing. It unravels as one sentence, pages long. Felipe’s instability is reflected in violent acts and obsession with gore and death.
Alternating with Felipe’s numbered chapters are Iquela’s chapters, indicated by a parenthesis, as ( ). Her narrative is more conventional and easier to understand even though it is peppered with flashbacks. Iquela constantly dips in and out of the past as if it has never left her. She is haunted by her mother’s constant reminders of the past and is burdened by her mother’s refrain, “I want you to know that I do all this for you.”
The faltering children of former activists, a city smothered in ash, the ubiquitous presence of corpses—real or imagined—and the search for a missing corpse powerfully evoke the complexities of a traumatic, inherited past. The fractured narrative, lyrical diction, vivid imagery, and powerful symbolism capture the trauma experienced by the children of militants. Haunted by their parents’ past activism, the protagonists are the remainders, burdened with the corpses of the past and seeking a way to bury them.
A compelling narrative capturing the long-lasting trauma of military dictatorships on subsequent generations.