Nada, or Nothing when translated from Spanish, is a heart-wrenching, dramatic novel by Carmen Laforet that details a family’s life in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War. Laforet details the class divide, what it means to go hungry, and different kinds of love. We follow Andrea, a student, navigating her strange family and different […]
Posted in Blogs | Tagged with book review, book-reviews, books, Carmen laforet, family, fiction, Haunted-Houses?, Hunger, love, madness, nada, Spain
First, I want to note that many interesting discussion-worthy plot points within this novel make it thoroughly enjoyable, but I want to mention two that were salient to me. Firstly I found it deeply intriguing to compare the friendship between An…
Posted in Blogs | Tagged with Carmen laforet, nada
First, I want to note that many interesting discussion-worthy plot points within this novel make it thoroughly enjoyable, but I want to mention two that were salient to me. Firstly I found it deeply intriguing to compare the friendship between An…
Posted in Blogs | Tagged with Carmen laforet, nada
This book made me sad, happy and at many points angry at the characters, especially the men. I found myself wanting to know how the events of the story would unfold. This novel was more of what I usually read in terms of structure and style. So far this is the book I have enjoyed […]
Posted in Blogs, Laforet | Tagged with Carmen laforet, friendship, nada, Spain, trauma, war
Carmen Laforet’s Nada felt very modern, and others might disagree with me but I thought it even felt somewhat contemporary. Sure, that might be because the translation was done relatively recently (2008), but I think it’s more so to do with its timelessness. The story has so many themes that are fundamentally about people and their relationships to each other; I don’t think humans change all that much from one generation to the next, and I reckon many of our problems are the same as they were centuries ago, and will continue to be centuries from now.
I hesitate to delve into these topics too deeply, but two themes that really resonated with me in this book were those surrounding Andrea and Ena’s friendship, more specifically the way that Andrea views Ena and puts her on a pedestal, and that of a mother’s love.
These two themes fascinate me in different ways. The former reminds me of a friendship that I once experienced a few years ago and so I felt a little uncomfortable seeing a semi-similar dynamic play out on the pages of a novel. Not to get too vulnerable up in here, but I was especially struck by the power dynamics between Andrea and Ena. Ena clearly has more status, in a social and economic sense, and so Andrea often implies a sense of inferiority and admiration, almost worship. I do feel that the relationship between the two is more exaggerated than my own has been, but sometimes it takes a more extreme example to make the subtleties and nuances of people’s characters and relationships to become visible.
In this novel, there are two mother figures that particularly caught my attention. Ena’s mother, and Andrea’s grandmother. Yes, there are others such as Gloria, and Ena’s dead mother, but they didn’t pique my interest like the other two did. These two characters are very different in many ways, including with social standing, financial status, but especially in the way they view their daughters. Ena’s mother confesses on p197 that Ena holds a particularly special place in her heart, more than her sons. Andrea’s grandmother is accused later on in the book (p234) of having always preferred her sons to her daughters, and is therefore blamed for the consequences.
The dynamics of motherhood and fatherhood, alongside daughterhood and sonhood are things that I have thought about a considerable amount over the past few years, having listened to different conversations and experiences. I have heard both perspectives (not within my family); parents who especially value the firstborn daughter, and parents who prefer their sons. I think both perspectives are interesting, though not necessarily correct, and am aware of the damage they can have on the non-preferred children. This novel merely showed me more examples from a different time, place, and culture than those I have personally been exposed to, and I am grateful for that.
I now pose the question: what might Andrea’s life look like in Madrid, now that she has left her dysfunctional family behind? Do we think she might feel any abandonment guilt?
Posted in Blogs, Laforet | Tagged with Carmen laforet, motherhood, nada, power, relationships, status, vulnerable
Carmen Laforet’s Nada felt very modern, and others might disagree with me but I thought it even felt somewhat contemporary. Sure, that might be because the translation was done relatively recently (2008), but I think it’s more so to do with its timelessness. The story has so many themes that are fundamentally about people and their relationships to each other; I don’t think humans change all that much from one generation to the next, and I reckon many of our problems are the same as they were centuries ago, and will continue to be centuries from now.
I hesitate to delve into these topics too deeply, but two themes that really resonated with me in this book were those surrounding Andrea and Ena’s friendship, more specifically the way that Andrea views Ena and puts her on a pedestal, and that of a mother’s love.
These two themes fascinate me in different ways. The former reminds me of a friendship that I once experienced a few years ago and so I felt a little uncomfortable seeing a semi-similar dynamic play out on the pages of a novel. Not to get too vulnerable up in here, but I was especially struck by the power dynamics between Andrea and Ena. Ena clearly has more status, in a social and economic sense, and so Andrea often implies a sense of inferiority and admiration, almost worship. I do feel that the relationship between the two is more exaggerated than my own has been, but sometimes it takes a more extreme example to make the subtleties and nuances of people’s characters and relationships to become visible.
In this novel, there are two mother figures that particularly caught my attention. Ena’s mother, and Andrea’s grandmother. Yes, there are others such as Gloria, and Ena’s dead mother, but they didn’t pique my interest like the other two did. These two characters are very different in many ways, including with social standing, financial status, but especially in the way they view their daughters. Ena’s mother confesses on p197 that Ena holds a particularly special place in her heart, more than her sons. Andrea’s grandmother is accused later on in the book (p234) of having always preferred her sons to her daughters, and is therefore blamed for the consequences.
The dynamics of motherhood and fatherhood, alongside daughterhood and sonhood are things that I have thought about a considerable amount over the past few years, having listened to different conversations and experiences. I have heard both perspectives (not within my family); parents who especially value the firstborn daughter, and parents who prefer their sons. I think both perspectives are interesting, though not necessarily correct, and am aware of the damage they can have on the non-preferred children. This novel merely showed me more examples from a different time, place, and culture than those I have personally been exposed to, and I am grateful for that.
I now pose the question: what might Andrea’s life look like in Madrid, now that she has left her dysfunctional family behind? Do we think she might feel any abandonment guilt?
Posted in Blogs, Laforet | Tagged with Carmen laforet, motherhood, nada, power, relationships, status, vulnerable
