Pola OloixaracReviews

“But I do believe that contempt is the lingua franca of our era, and on that I’ll bet we can both agree.”

This slim novel opens with the titular Mona boarding a plane to Sweden, having woken up earlier that day at a Bay Area Caltrans station, bruised, bloodied, and confused. Hiding the bruises (how long do bruises last?), Mona attend the literati event, where they will award one of the handful "world-lit" authors a statue and 200,000 euros.

This isn’t really a story about a writing event—it’s a psychological exploration of the double consciousness of modern life. it’s a world where art has been fully infected by the milquetoast upper-middle class and whatever their current flavour of politics allows, where identity is a commodity above reproach regardless if it's merited; it’s academia, it’s torpid and soulless political correctness, it’s death-inducing stillness disguised as enlightenment.

But this is also a story of doldrums of womanhood, the perfidy of desire, and the potential of power within the female body: framed by CW: SA a horrific date rape by a fellow Stanford PhD student, Mona (Mona?) and the reader are blind to the memory, instead caught on the wave of easy sex and desire a woman can command at the hands of men. Oloixarac writes of sex in a disgusting and frankly unsexual way, leaving her metaphors of beauty to the vagina: "But pussies, no: they could drift, lunge, fill and empty themselves like voracious gluttons." The high point of the novel for me was the character of Lena, a whip-smart, obese children's author who is Mona's only mental rival—she eviscerates her (and the reader) of the performative nature of womanhood, with its false lashes and litheness:

"'Look at you. Yes, you. You’re a complete caricature of a woman. Have you looked at yourself? You’re completely ridiculous. Covering yourself with that towel, like anyone cares what you’re hiding underneath it. Tell me what kind of woman gets in the sauna wearing fake eyelashes. Or do you think that nobody can tell? With your makeup, your designer clothes, your hyper-feminine affect … you think that you’re letting everyone see that you’re a victim of machismo, of a chauvinist culture that—even with its little touches of sophistication, like the literary world!—punishes all things feminine. But that doesn’t annul the total absurdity of your appearance. Don’t kid yourself—you’re certainly not fooling me! Where I’m going with all this is: We can’t write except in drag. We convert ourselves into something absurd because the absurd is already living inside us.'”

Mona is raw, and has bitten me a new one. I somehow feel alive again. Make no mistake: this is book girl's book. It's for other maladaptive, former (can we ever really be former?) anorexia-ridden aesthetes, who will ape the role of women for the beautiful ease of sex and the self-inflicted tortures of forever being second-class within it. Do we even want to be better? Shove off.

I haven't even talked about the filthy, filthy (kidding, it's really boring, but it's kinda supposed to be) literary references, and the double-backing that make this novel so satirical and damn intelligent. I won't drone on any longer: This novel is brilliant.½

Bizarre, sexy, and smart. I appreciated the social and political commentary sprinkled throughout (especially regarding South America) and loved Oloixarac's subtle digs at contemporary writers and the literary community as a whole.

There's a lot going on in this this little book - flashbacks, trauma, literary awards, dinners, beach scenes, etc. - and up until chapter nine I think the book progresses extremely well. However, I think the pacing of the last two chapters did the book a disservice. While it definitely has its flaws (perhaps it's a literal lost-in-translation situation?), I really enjoyed Mona.

Probably more of a 3.5, but rounding it up to four stars because I just like books about smart, fucked-up women doing drugs and losing their shit. Also this cover is everything.

A lot of this book went over my head but I think that might be the point?

Most of the book seems to be commenting on world culture and writing and stuff and all of that mostly went over my head. Then you get to the end and realize the book wasn’t about that at all.

Honestly I really liked the ending and the general vibe. The writing reminds me of that of the Secret History or something though I wouldn’t categorize this as dark academia, more as like “deranged academia.”

Delightfully bitchy. I didn't really "get" the ending, but I liked the unexpectedness of it.

En realidad no lo terminé. Abrumada por este libro en el que se nos está lanzando continuamente los conocimientos filosóficos de la autora a la cara. Demasiada sintaxis, poca estructura literaria y un poquito facha. No me apetece seguir.

'Two hundred thousand euros, thirteen finalists, one winner. Hailing from all four corners of the earth, the finalists convened for the Great Meeting: Sweden's most prestigious literary festival.'

For anyone who loves books, book festivals and generally just getting a peak into the lives of our beloved authors, this is a joy. Shamelessly taking a swipe at political correctness and pretentious literary smugness, Pola Oloixarac's new novel arrives with a bang. And at its heart is Mona, a Peruvian writer now residing in California, who is one of the shortlisted writers. Mona generally doesn't give a f*** and has been told by her publisher that her second novel, which she is currently writing, isn't good enough. Mona is also usually high on something. Mona has relationship issues.

As the writers and the festival attendees gather in a remote northern part of Sweden things get darker and more surreal. The locals have a habit of killing animals and leaving them lying around. Mona's fellow authors are a motley collection of preening egotists or ironic observers. Clichés are set up and knocked down, and there are some definite laugh out loud casual observations that are a joy.

But there is a much darker edge to this novel; Mona is covered in bruises, and she keeps getting phone calls and messages from someone desperate to talk to her. As the truth is revealed, it suddenly shifts your whole impression of the sardonic Mona. And when the book ends in just the most bizarre manner (no spoilers) the book will leave you wondering what the heck you have just read.

For some, this might be a little too smug, a little too cliched. But for others, this is a wonderful and unique book from one of the literary world's rising stars. A big shout out to the translation by Adam Morris, who has managed to capture the essence of the narrative style superbly. Overall, a funny yet darkly disturbing read, brilliantly done. 4.5 stars, but I could easily have made it 5.

Mona, a Peruvian writer who has been living in California for some years, is invited to Sweden as she has been nominated for the notable Basske-Wortz prize, one of the most renowned literary awards of Europe. Together with other authors from diverse countries, she is to spend a couple of days in a remote resort where they have talks and give presentations. Rivalry starts immediately, some of them Mona has known for years and met at literary festivals before, others she admires for their work. However, the young woman is not too much concerned with the possibility of being awarded a famous prize, it is her life that matters most at the moment. Her body is covered with bruises and she cannot recollect where they stem from. Also her abuse of diverse substances follows her to the Swedish secludedness – travelling to the end of the world does not mean you can escape your demons.

The setting the Argentinian writer Pola Oloixarac has chosen for her third novel is perfect for a small community under a magnifying lens. None of them can escape and they have to face each other – as well as themselves. For the protagonist Mona, she herself comes to scrutinise her very own situation: where does she stand as a writer and why does her current novel refuse to advance; where do these bruises come from which hurt and yet do not give a clue of what might have happened; how to people perceive and classify her as a woman of colour who, as a doctoral candidate at one of the most prestigious universities, penetrated into an area which normally is closed to people with her background.

Even though I found the ending rather confusing, I totally enjoyed reading the novel which is remarkable due to its strong protagonist and quite a unique tone of narration with strong images and brilliant use of language.

When You Feel You're Too Old for a Book

"Savage Theories" is inventive and sharp, but I feel a certain distance from its headlong fascination with philosophy and political theory. About halfway through the book I began to realize my judgment was a matter of age.

But it's a tricky subject. If someone says they read contemporary fiction, that implies they don't read primarily children's books or YA fiction. But there's no category for fiction aimed at people between, say, 20 and 40. "Savage Theories" made me think there should be such a category. The problem would be how to define it.

In this novel, at least, it would have to do with the ways that the narrator and the implied author tend to get swept away by "theories," which tends to mean political theory, with some psychoanalysis and existentialism added in. I'm not allergic to novels with literary references (like Vila Matas), but to something about the way those references are presented. It also has to do, in "Savage Theories," with the way we're told about sex.

1. Sex

Sex obliterates narrative, as everyone knows, but in novels by what I'm calling young writers, sex can be a flood that washes through the room several times per chapter. It's as if the world is continuously immersed in streams of warm sea water. Sex is everywhere. People swim in it and even breathe for entire chapters underwater.

On the other hand talk about sex is descriptive and insouciant about combinations of lovers and ideals of beauty. (One of the heroines here is supposedly fat and ugly, and one of the people she has sex with -- in a group of four -- praises only her feet.) Even the character in Eimear McBride's "Lesser Bohemians" has more distance on sex than "Savage Theories."

2. Theories

Theories also captivate the characters in this "Savage Theories." It's full of the sort of breathless allusions that I remember from my undergraduate years. "I must say," a man says in a seduction scene, "I'm very impressed that you caught that hidden reference to Marx's 'The German Ideology.'" And then on the next page the narrator gets swept up in her theorizing:

"I took advantage of the fact that he was chewing, and added that ever since the Knowledge Industry decided to proclaim itself critical (i.e., since the dernier cri of its blusterings is to fancy itself a critic), humanism has been reduced to a republican version of intellectual purity; in the end, product differentiation is as important for (and within) the academy as it is for the capitalist corporations that academics love to hate." (p. 135)

This isn't ironic, except as a mandatory veneer of self-awareness on the narrator's part. It's heartfelt and entranced by the possibilities the novel grants it.

3. Mixing sex and theories

Both sex and theory are hypnotic, and tend to ruin the narrator's ability to focus on other things. They are only mixed in afew passages. Here is one: the narrator (a woman) has successfully stopped a man from kissing her by asking for a song. It's a triumph, but she dislikes him for acceeding. The thought leads her on to some political theory:

"Behind my eyes I confirm the presence of a feeling so powerful I want to bite him: his very being exudes a vulnerability so unpleasant that it makes me dizzy, rivalsthe strength of my patience without rising to the level of my disgust. But enough. Let us return to the scene. I have no desire to distort a rigorous political theory such as has been established in this book just to make of it a practice drill for some monstrous sort of love." (p. 164)

Again, the political theory is seen ironically, but just a little: the narrator, and the implied author, believe in a lot of it. And the only way works with the sex is not to work.

*

I feel too old for this. Some decades have passed since I was in college, and both sex and theories have become more entangled and less breathless. Dylan's "My Back Pages" says this well:

"A self-ordained professor's tongue too serious to fool
Spouted out that liberty is just equality in school
Equality, I spoke the word as if a wedding vow
Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now."

And even that stanza flies its flags a bit too stridently.

Why is the american cover so hideous? Look at the others here https://www.amazon.com/s?ie=UTF8&page=1&rh=n:283155,p_27:Pola Oloixarac

‘What creates space for meaning isn’t the bright dots or the presence of light – for dark constellations, the light is the noise. What matters is the darkness.’

OK, up front honesty: this isn’t generally the kind of book I would read, but I’m also a big fan of world literature and so was keen to read Argentinian author Pola Oloixarac’s second novel. It’s a hard book to pin down; part science fiction, part ‘techno-thriller’, part historical fiction. I’m not totally sure it worked for me, or that I ‘got’ what it was about.

Shifting in time from 1880s explorers in the Canary Islands, to 1980s Buenos Aires, to a techno-hub in southern Argentina in 2024, the book mixes the stories of explorer and botanist Niklas Bruun and Cassio, a tech genius who becomes involved in a company’s efforts in DNA tracking and surveillance. It is primarily a book about ideas, about exploring beyond the boundaries of human knowledge and into worlds of hallucinatory drugs, the dark web and the future of human evolution. It is certainly a big, bold novel full of allusions and nods to various sci-fi authors from the 20th century. Oloixarac’s narrative style is quite detached; there seemed some (deliberate) distance between the reader and the characters and events in the book, and whilst I got used to this, I didn’t quite feel that the book engaged me fully. It’s not really a character-driven story, although we do see Cassio’s development from precocious teenager to forty-something code genius. In many ways the overall arch of the book reminded me of a David Mitchell’s ‘Cloud Atlas’ with its scope and interweaving of stories.

The final part of the book, set in the near-future, is a troubling vision of the powers of the state and the transformation of human life and identity going forward. The tech company Cassio works for, Stromatoliton, has created sensors to detect DNA, thus enabling the powers that to be to track its citizens at all times. So, for that, it is a timely and ambitious novel. Well-written, certainly, but its style is a little detached, and the characters not really fully rounded enough for me to overly care about them. For those who lap up this kind of novel it will probably blow them away, but it left me a little cold, and more than a little confused at times!

(With thanks to the publisher for an ARC of this book.)

This book has defeated me. I'm not interested in the subject matter, and it is incredibly difficult for me to make myself read it when An American Marriage is sitting right next to me begging to be picked up. So. I'm sorry, Pola Oloixarac. I tried.

Note: I stopped with this book around 1/3 of the way through. I hardly ever abandon a book.
The translator does a good job saying that things might be lost in translation here, possibly the author included four meanings in a sentence, and then the translator could only impart two of those meanings. As possibly a not-intelligent-enough reader, or not having the cultural context for this, I possibly wasn't getting any of the meanings which is why this book sadly might be impossible to decipher. This is a complicated book. So I think it is the fault on all levels: of the author's ambitiousness, the translator (at least he admits he didn't get it completely right), and me as a reader. I tried with this one. I really did. I never like to give up on books but I was just struggling with this one. Some of the sentences were GREAT. Sadly, it was taking me too much time to dig out those gems.

Writing a brief description of the plot of Savage Theories is to miss most of what goes on in this odd book that spends most of its time going off on tangents and assuming the reader is a lot more knowledgeable than this particular reader is. Basically, there are two stories; a young woman stalks her professor while justifying it in all sorts of philosophical ways, which hides the creepiness somewhat and; two teenage friends, who believe themselves to be physically repulsive, negotiate their social world with an angry sense of inferiority, even as they engage in orgies with beautiful people.

This is one weird book. It revels in a sort of intellectual ping pong, where the reader is assumed to be not only aware of a broad swath of philosophy, sociology and Argentinian history, but that they are also able to keep up with Pola Oloixarac's frenetic jumping around between topics and references. This is the aspect of the book I liked - after a lot of looking up of things, I eventually just relaxed into enjoying the ride. It's a wild and fun one, even as I missed most of the references and asides.

I did have a problem with the author's cavalier attitude toward sexual violence, which is often played for laughs, including a gang rape in a nightclub bathroom which is played for laughs and also no big deal. There's more to feel uneasy about here, and much that was interesting, but in the end this was a book I'm not happy to have read.½

De vez em quando a crítica define um livro pretensioso e desinteressante como uma grande crítica social de um autor desconhecido - A Elegância do Ouriço vem a mente.
Acho que foi exatamente o que aconteceu com esse livro. Ainda mais depois que surgiu a polêmica de uns imbecis que diziam que a autora era bonita demais para ter escrito um romance.

overly complicated, no plot, chaotic. What is this book about?