Coinciding with the somewhat paradoxical recovery of Manuel de Pedrolo, we are witnessing a renewed concern for the narrative point of view. It may be a consequence of the proliferation of school literature, which emphasizes what writing has as a repertoire and exercise. It can be linked to a certain exhaustion, to the idea that everything is already written, and that it is more interesting to explain the different angles of a story than to look for new stories. On the other hand, the new stories –and there are some– are inaccessible, enclosed in worlds to which generalist writers hardly have access. It is surely a consequence of the explosion of subjectivism that we are experiencing. And of the relativism that dominates everything. We do not believe in a truth and in a single narrator, things have many nuances and details and not all the people involved know them all. At most, they can offer their perceptions and sensations.
At this crossroads is Doble vida by Àngels Bassas (Figueres, 1971) and Salvador Macip (Blanes, 1970), who have turned the game of the double literary interpretation of events into an object, a book that is worth two, stuck together, with two covers, with the names of the authors in reverse order on each cover, a reversible book that demonstrates the playful, festive nature of experimentation with point of view. Bassas, in addition to being a writer, is an actress, she has participated in Les de l'hoquei and El internado. Macip, in addition to being a writer, is a doctor, we have seen him many times in the media during these years of pandemic. You can start reading from the Bassas part or from the Macip part (which is slightly shorter) and I calculate that the result should be different in both cases. I have read Bassas first. She tells the story of a forty-something-year-old woman who, at a party for medical students, meets a boy –now a plastic surgeon– who was courting her. They get involved and the novel explains the whole relationship: the passion, the falling in love, the doubts, the need for the woman –whose name is Sílvia– to believe that she has found love. And also – two subplots – a story of sexual abuse that Robert refrained from, and the problems of her son that requires a lot of attention.
In the story explained by Macip, we discover that the boy has an autism spectrum disorder. Robert does not remember the abuse and for this reason – and not because of bad faith – the subject does not come up in the conversation. The reader has to select elements from both stories to have a complete story, which is not a total story, there are ambiguities, omissions and a non-coincident ending –something forced to tell the truth–, which penalizes Robert's extramarital relationship and the Sílvia's absorbing passion, and we could say that it is a conservative ending. Months ago, at the Bòlit in Girona, an installation by Núria G. Lorang was presented on the film Fatal Attraction (1988) by Adrian Lyne, very good, which showed to what extent it was a representation of the facistoid morality of Reagan's America . The outcome of Double Life has reminded me of it.
It is a book that goes well, with good perceptions of psychology and feminine sensuality, of virtual and carnal love (Bassas). While what stands out most in Macip's story is the perception of the man actually in love. He decides to attend a party that doesn't tell him anything. With his friend Lluís they talk rudely about the tits of their former classmates, just as they remember them, but then he really falls in love, it's not just sex. Infidelity to Anne-Marie, the woman with whom he lives in Marseille, does not mean that he does not love her. Macip has portrayed a man outside the stereotypes of those who criticize patriarchy, for which he is grateful.
A light, entertaining and well dramatized book about mature love.
Ángels Bassas and Salvador Macip. double life column 304 pages. 17.90 euros
