On our most recent trip, the International Booker Prize longlist magical mystery tour had us enjoying a leisurely journey around Indonesia, but today brings us back to reality with a bump. You see, we’re off to Mexico, to a luxury gated community, but for anyone dreaming of five-star accommodation, I’m afraid we’re on the wrong side of those gates. So what happens when those excluded from paradise decide that enough’s enough, and it’s time to get their fair share of the good things in life?
You’re about to find out…
*****
Paradais by Fernanda Melchor
– Fitzcarraldo Editions, translated by Sophie Hughes
(my review copy is the Australian edition, courtesy of Text Publishing)
What’s it all about?
In Paradais, a gated community for the rich outside a provincial Mexican town, we make the acquaintance of Polo. He’s a young gardener who hates his job, only made bearable by the clandestine drinking sessions he has with Franco, a young inhabitant of the compound. While hiding out drinking and smoking, and pretending to listen to stories about Franco’s obsession with his beautiful neighbour, Polo dreams of making it out of there, away from his crappy job, his domineering mother and his seductive, manipulative cousin.
As the two youths drink and talk rubbish, a half-baked plan, a drunken boast, suddenly takes on a life of its own. What if there was a way for their dreams to become reality, for Franco to see his beloved Señora Marián naked, and for Polo to move on with his life?
That’s why Polo played along, that’s why he nodded away to everything that fatty said, as insane, as preposterous as it was; how the fuck was he supposed to know what the crazy prick would be capable of doing in order to bone the that bitch. Who could have known he really meant what he said?
p.31 (Text Publishing, 2022)
As you can guess, it’s a plan that involves more than a spot of law-breaking, and long before it’s done, Polo will have second thoughts about his part in the affair.
Melchor and Hughes were shortlisted for the 2020 IBP for the magnificent Hurricane Season, and Paradais can be seen as a slimmed-down, junior version of that book, a work still full of bite. In a story that reads deceptively smoothly, we see how easily a dumb, unthinkable plan can become reality. At this point, it’s probably only fair that I provide a number of trigger warnings, with the book unsuitable for those uncomfortable reading about bad language, violence, sexual abuse and lots, lots more.
And yet, in many ways, Paradais is also a gentle Bildungsroman, in which we are shown how Polo is struggling through life. His job as a gardener sees him exploited by his boss and patronised by the residents, and his home life is no less uncomfortable. He does his best to avoid spending time with his aggressive mother and his scheming cousin, who has her clutches firmly into him already. If only he could just get out of town and start a new life:
…he wouldn’t have to make ridiculous pledges of abstinence or put up with humiliating and totally unreasonable take-downs, he wouldn’t have to sleep on the living room floor or be forced to wake at the crack of dawn to his mother’s shitty alarm clock jingle, or spend the whole day watering the same fucking lawn, which he’d be back mowing days later… (p.34)
It’s unsurprising that our young friend is looking for a way out – it’s just that he’s going about it the wrong way.
For a short novel, Paradais has a lot to say, and one feature of the book is the glances provided into the world of organised crime. Polo’s cousin, Milton, a man the youth idolises, is dragged into a new life against his will, yet it’s one that fascinates Polo, one he’d love to be a part of. Part of the motivation for what happens later is the thought that he, too, might be able to make it in that world, if he shows himself worthy of being accepted.
This dark existence is contrasted with what Polo sees every day in the aptly named Paradais complex, a place full of temptations (including a beautiful woman who might as well be walking around offering apples…). Despite concealing his loathing for those looking down on him, the boy can’t help wondering why they get to live like this, and why he has to work hard and sleep on the floor. In fact, it’s difficult *not* to think like that, especially when the wastrel Franco is there as evidence that there’s nothing fair about who gets to live their life this way.
Polo, then, finds himself torn in several directions, including the attraction of a life of crime and the desire to get out of town before anyone finds out just what he’s been up to on the home front. In between bouts of self-loathing and subservience, there are his moments of calm by the river and memories of happy times with his grandfather, dreaming of the boat they never got to make together. These act as calm oases of pleasure in Polo’s life, but are unfortunately just moments of calm before the impending storm.
It’s all wonderfully done, with the reader and Polo able to see what’s unfolding and where it will all lead – the problem is that neither he nor we can do anything about it, steeling ourselves as we stagger inevitably into a bloody climax. By these final scenes, it’s almost as if the action is happening elsewhere to someone else, with Polo unable to take in just what Franco’s lust and his own greed have led to.
Melchor’s novel finishes where it began, with Polo regretting his actions and wondering what to do next, making for an excellent ending to an absorbing and (yes) disturbing tale. Paradais is certainly a nice place to visit, and I enjoyed my short stay, but I can safely say that I sure as hell wouldn’t want to live there…
Did it deserve to make the shortlist?
Yes, and I’m quite surprised it didn’t, to be honest. While it doesn’t have the polyphonic splendour of Hurricane Season, Paradais is an excellent short novel that manages to cram a lot into a relatively small number of pages. It’s a book that reflects on the male gaze, organised crime and family drama, all the while showing us a teenager growing up as best he can given how he’s been let down by those around him. Definitely in my top six, and I wish it had made the official shortlist.
Why didn’t it make the shortlist?
If I were being cynical (and when am I not?), I can think of a couple of reasons. Firstly, it may have been a bit of a shootout between two coming-of-age books for the final spot, with Mieko Kawakami’s Heaven just pipping this one. Why? Well, that brings me to reason number two. You see, while Fitzcarraldo are to be admired for the list they put out year after year, shortlisting three of their titles might have seemed a little too much of a good thing, even to the judges – which means the Melchor book is the one they had to wave goodbye to…
*****
Well, we’ve eluded the police sniffer dogs and dumped all blood-stained items, so it’s finally time for the last leg of our epic literary journey. We’re rounding off this year’s travel with a trip to India, where we’ll be spending time with yet another formidable mother. So, more running after men and fighting with partisans? Not quite – this will prove to be a slightly more sedate experience, even if our host is a woman with a new lease on life 