In the small New England town where I grew up we had a neighbor from  Spain. She possessed a warmth that tempered her vivacious personality,  and she spoke English with a thick accent that made her sound like she  was always clearing her throat. But this woman had the singing voice of  an angel and her songs were all about the Spanish Civil War.  I grew up with a romantic vision of that conflict, which the song  lyrics painted as a noble struggle between good and evil, the good guys  being the Communist-backed Republican fighters (the heroes of the songs)  and Franco’s fascist Falangists, also known as nationalists, cast as  the villains.
But there is nothing romantic about Death of a Nationalist, Rebecca  Pawel’s Edgar Award-winning suspense novel set in the aftermath of  Spain’s bloody civil war. She paints a grim picture of a battered  country where hope is as scarce as food. The Fascists have won and are  busy purging the country of Republican carbineros, not bothering with  the inconvenience of a trial. It’s a world where being caught without  proper papers can result in “going for a stroll,” a euphemism for  summary execution. Or where a suitcase filled with meat and potatoes,  stolen at gunpoint from a black marketeer, helps one family survive  another day.
Against this brutal backdrop, Pawel spins a tale of two men who stand on  opposite sides of Spain’s unbridgeable political gulf. Carlos Tejada  Alonso y Léon is a nationalist, a Guardia Civil with an unwavering  belief in the fascist cause. He views the “Reds” as beneath contempt,  barely human. “They don’t even marry their women,” is his contemptuous  assessment at one point.
Gonzalo Llorente is a former carbinero, recently released from the  hospital after suffering a serious war wound. He’s hiding out in his  sister’s apartment, for if the Guardia Civil finds him, his lack of  papers will mean that he too will “go for a stroll.” Gonzalo had been a  socialist before the war and a Republican fighter during the conflict,  but ideology is not what drives him. He just wants to build an ordinary  life with his great love, Viviana.
The tale begins with Tejada shooting Viviana as she bends over a  murdered Guardia Civil (the dead nationalist from the title). Tejada  doesn’t bother with the particulars of ascertaining whether she really  was the nationalist’s killer, nor is he overly bothered by the fact that  the object she is holding is a child’s school notebook, not a  subversive treatise. She’s a Red, and nothing else matters.
For his part, Gonzalo’s grief over the loss of Viviana drives him to  embark on a single-minded mission. He’s going to find the Guardia Civil  who murdered her and make him pay for the crime. It’s almost a suicide  mission, since Gonzalo cares little for his own survival and pays almost  no thought to how his actions will affect his sister and her  seven-year-old daughter, the only family he has left. Understandable as  his selfishness is, it’s hard to see anything noble in this man’s  actions.
As the Guardia Civil and carbinero embark on the collision course  driving them together, Tejada tracks down Aleja, Gonzalo’s young niece,  who witnessed the murder of the nationalist. It was the loss of her  school notebook, which she dropped in fright and which Viviana had gone  to retrieve, that set the book’s events in motion. However, Aleja’s  terror of Tejada in uniform shakes him to his bones. He may be capable  of shooting an innocent woman for no discernable reason, but he doesn’t  see himself as a monster who sets out to terrify small children.
Soon after, Gonzalo is arrested after hooking up with a small group of  like-minded former carbineros. Gonzalo knows he’s not likely to leave  jail alive, and his death will come after lengthy and brutal torture.  But he nevertheless vows to hold out for twenty-hour hours before his  tormenters break him, giving his new friends time to escape.
In Rebecca Pawel’s bleak tale there are no clear-cut heroes or villains  like the ones I’d heard about in my neighbor’s Spanish songs. Instead,  everyone in this book is a bit of both, capable of kindness and  generosity as well as cruelty and selfishness. Tejada, our antihero,  believes in the nationalist cause and Spain's brutal dictatorship, but  he is, in his heart, a deeply honorable man with an unshakeable sense of  justice. I can't condone the fascist ideology he subscribes to, but  honor and integrity are always appealing.
Both Tejada and Gonzalo are realistically drawn men with human flaws  that influence their actions. It is this depth of humanity that turns  Pawel’s story into something larger than an engrossing adventure: a  novel worthy of a major award. Death of a Nationalist won the 2004 Edgar  Award for Best First Novel, presented by the Mystery Writers of  America.
For a complete list of the Edgar winners, visit The Edgars.

 
 
Talk about the "traveling culture" - my favorite topic. This is so similar to how the Soviets referred to their revolution - always romantic, always poetic, when in fact there were no heroes - exactly the same way. I don't think there can be heroes in a civil war.
ReplyDeleteI never read a book - any book - about the Spanish civil war... it's interesting that someone thought of it as a premise.
It was interesting to me that Pawel set this story after the war was largely over. The ongoing suffering and mistrust is so well drawn, it reminds me that wars like this never really end, or at least not for many decades. They just move to a different stage.
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