(2015-01-03) I saw this book, The Threshold of the Forest, on a bookstore table once, twice, and let it go. The first time I saw it, the cover art caught my eye. A captivating cover. It wasn't long before I went back and bought it. Of course, beforehand I read the back cover, which gives a synopsis of what the story is about. I've always been drawn to ordinary life and the lives of travelers in the Middle Ages. Although the plot of the book revolves around another theme, the travel, dangers, and adventures intersect, and one can take from it what interests them—which in this case wasn't much.
The book is a pleasant and simple read. It reads quickly. Another issue to consider is the theme of vampirism, immortal creatures, the supernatural—much of that subject matter around which the novel revolves, and about which I had never read anything other than a few classic short stories. So I gave it a chance to get acquainted with the material of this literary world.
The author is the Argentine Patricio Sturlese, who to date has three works to his name (The Inquisitor, 2007; The Sixth Way, 2009; and The Threshold of the Forest, 2012). The author's website, which also features reviews of his texts, is http://www.sturlese.net/index2.html. The publishing house is Suma de Letras, http://www.sumadeletras.com/ar/
Before getting into my personal comments on reading this book, I am going to copy an excerpt that someone (or several people) wrote in the Wikipedia entry, which says: “It is a gothic horror novel set in Scandinavia during the year 1604. It begins in Hungary, when Countess Elizabeth Báthory hires the services of Venetian navigator Pier Ugo Mameli to transport an ancient family chest, hidden in Asia, to repatriate it to her castle. However, at one of the ports where his ship docks, Captain Mameli allows a group of seemingly defenseless women belonging to the Nordic aristocracy to board. These young women soon begin to reveal their true intentions, terrorizing the crew; macabre and strange deaths follow one another and push the captain to examine the contents of the chest, where he discovers the mystery that will completely change the course of his voyage. The Threshold of the Forest tells a story with a dark, gothic atmosphere, delving into the origins of the sudden extinction of the Norwegian kings in 1387 and the curse that befell them, known as 'The Night of 400 Years,' as well as into the Scandinavian myth of the drävulia.” http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patricio_Sturlese
From this, we can see that the author mixes reality with fiction, and that's not a bad thing; it gives a truthful air to the fantastic story. The book contains quite a bit of fantasy—the kind inherent to the story, and the fantasy that mixes with the real, or what could be real in everyday life and ends up being too embellished. That is why we shouldn't pay attention to the reference from the media outlet Página/12 on the back cover, when, regarding the author, in an uncontrolled burst of exaggeration it says: “A worthy descendant of the Alexandre Dumas factory.” That phrase brings it down; it is too sycophantic, it presumes too much of the author, which didn't seem to be the case to me. It praises the author to magnify him, but when one reads the book—having read some of Dumas's fantastic tales—there is a significant gap.
Returning to my point: occasionally, in everyday matters, there are embellishments or exaggerations that, had they been absent or more realistic, would have turned out better, but that is just my opinion as a reader. For example, the hunting afternoon (p. 124), the great distances covered from paragraph to paragraph (pp. 86/87), or the issue of the bottle of sweet wine (p. 109). Exactly the paragraph in question says: “Before midnight my galley was christened as Ictus, for which I proceeded to smash a bottle of sweet wine against the hull, which spilled abundant foam over the woodwork.” (p. 109)
In this paragraph, what didn't sit right with me was the “bottle of sweet wine.” It could be the question of who christens the launching: the captain, the builder, the shipowner, the person who put up the capital (who is often the owner), or the ruler of the day? But regardless of who it is, the specificity of a “bottle of sweet wine in the 17th century” is what doesn't add up. I looked up something on the internet to guide me a bit and only found the following:
“Marcelo also explained to them that the launching of a ship is also equivalent to its christening and constitutes a moment of considerable symbolic weight. The custom of smashing a bottle of champagne against the hull has its origins in antiquity, when red wine was poured onto the deck as a libation to the sea gods. The Vikings made this offering with the blood of a prisoner across whose back they dragged the ship as they lowered it into the sea. Worldwide, if the bottle does not break, it is believed to bring bad luck.” (p. 68)
La Odisea Del Albatros by Felix Menor.
“In our Navy, the current ceremony unites the Catholic blessing of the hull before sliding into the water with the pagan custom of smashing a bottle of wine or champagne on the stem, a usage that stems from ancient human sacrifices performed at the launching (slaves or prisoners sacrificed by having the keel pass over their bodies). Evangelization replaced the blood with wine. Later, in modern times, they began wrapping the bottle in a small net and tying it to a cord, trying to avoid a repeat of what happened in England when a princess of the House of Hanover, acting as godmother for the launching of a warship, smashed the bottle with such energy and poor aim that she hit a spectator, causing severe injuries, which led to him filing a lawsuit.” (p. 130)
Academia Argentina de Ceremonial. Ceremonial II. Editorial Dunken. Buenos Aires, 2006.
“In a document from the year 1610, the builder of one of the ships of the Royal Navy of the United Kingdom describes the launching and christening of this vessel, which was attended by the Prince of Wales, and explains how the prince held in his hand a large cup designed with precious metals and filled with wine, drank a ceremonial sip, and then poured the contents of the cup over the ship. Finally, the cup was thrown overboard and given as a gift to the shipbuilder. With the growth of the economy, the need arose to build more and more ships, and therefore launchings became increasingly frequent, making it very costly to have one of these cups at each one. First, cups began to be reused in multiple ship christenings, until they were finally replaced by a bottle smashed against the ship's bow. This practice was finally established during the 18th century, although it varies according to different countries. The first description of a christening in the United States is that of the launching of a famous frigate in 1797, named Constitution by President George Washington himself in honor of his country's constitution, during which a bottle of Madeira wine was broken.”
and also http://www.clubduriel.es/detalle-noticia.php?noticia=EL%20BAUTISMO%20DE%20LOS%20BARCOS&id=236
This business of the bottle of sweet wine in the 17th century to christen a ship seems to border on anachronism, much like when it refers to the “song of the Bolsheviks” (p. 125). Although the term seems to mean “member of the majority”—and in the novel they were clearly the majority—the term Bolshevik only became popular and well-known as a result of events that occurred at the beginning of the 20th century.
Another criticism in reading this text is the matter of insults, offenses, and slurs—all very modern, out of time, and very Argentine. They are either unnecessary, anachronistic, or out of context and period. There are many examples; some can be seen on pages 150/151.
At one point, it alludes to glögg, which I was unfamiliar with; it is a mulled wine aromatized with cinnamon, typical of Nordic countries.
For the rest, the novel is passable; it manages to create landscapes, scenes, and an atmosphere appropriate to its intentions. Although mystery appears and is present, it often falls into the redundancy of “I can't tell you,” followed later by “I can't tell you again,” and so on, until it reaches a point of irritation right up until the climax occurs. The characters are well-crafted and defined. Ultimately, we find a bit of everything: violence, suspense, eroticism, adventure, mystery, the supernatural, history. It is entertaining. In the acknowledgments, the author mentions visiting a cemetery, photographs of castle interiors, various contributions in terms of linguistics, and quite a bit more; he used many sources that bore fruit.
It has a rich vocabulary. Many words that I was unfamiliar with or didn't know.
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