The Garden of Secrets
by Juan Goytisolo
Serpent's Tail Publishing

Juan Goytisolo is from a violent country and he has led a violent life. Although he now lives in Morocco, he grew up in revolutionary Spain watching his family get ripped apart by the war between fascist and Republican armies. His mother was killed by a fascist air raid; his father, a sympathizer with the regime of Gen. Francisco Franco, was held prisoner by the Republicans. For Goytisolo, who was married but took male lovers, fascist Spain under Franco was the unforgiving nightmare that gave birth to some of his most powerful writing. In his 30 or so books of journalism, fiction, autobiography and essays, Goytisolo has explored his own past, dug up the Arab and Jewish roots of Spanish culture and lacerated his country's institutions and history.

His newest book, "The Garden of Secrets" is crafted with exactly the sort of direct, dry, poetic style one might expect from an author with such a long and distinguished career. Like Jorge Luis Borges, Goytisolo has a knack for using clear, simple language to express highly nuanced ideas about art, culture, politics and the nature of narrative itself. That this talent shines through in the English language translation of "The Garden of Secrets" is a great credit to the book's translator, Peter Bush.

"The Garden of Secrets" is a worthy book in many ways. Its form is fascinating — the book's narrative is spun by 28 different storytellers gathered in a "delightfully cultivated" garden. The assembled journalists, students, creative writers, lawyers and ethnologists each tell a tale about a character known as "Eusebio" — one for each letter of the Arab alphabet. In some ways, the book's structure recalls that of "The Decameron", with its gathered group of storytellers, but "The Garden of Secrets" is more elaborately interwoven. Each tale reflects back on the book's central character, although different voices emphasize different aspects of Eusebio's character and history.

Some are concerned with his incarceration and torture at the hands of the fascists, who lash out at him for his association with pro-communist elements, his free-spirited poetry and his homosexual dalliances. Others tell tales of his life in Morocco, or his strange, wavering relationship with his Francoist brother-in-law. Taken as a whole, the 28 short stories of "The Garden of Secrets" paint an absorbing picture of a country torn in two, strangling itself in general, and the life of Eusebio in particular. In short, they tell the story of Spain as a broken nation.

It is quite likely that because Goytisolo has never shirked from hectoring, lampooning, criticizing or otherwise belittling Spain and some of its most central institutions, he has never been a member of its Royal Academy, or awarded any of the nation's big literary prizes. Those who read "The Garden of Secrets" may come away with the distinct feeling that Goytisolo is in the right, and Spain is in the wrong — to the detriment of Spain, and Spain alone. It may be the job of future generations of Spainards to set their country's record right, while Goytisolo continues to enjoy the halo of international respect his work has rightfully earned him.

— James Norton (jrnorton@flakmag.com)