40 years after the death of the world-famous writer, the body of a fbi agent is found on his estate. Has the impulsive writer and passionate coarse deildejager here his hands in the game?
Mario conde is back. Eight years after his voluntary farewell to the cuban police, he entangled the love of literature in a criminal case, as the time melancholy, sometimes rebellious cop to regular service times has not experienced. At the finca vigia near havana, where ernest hemingway spent the contemplative part of his otherwise eventful life, a body is excavated. The forty-year stay in the stately garden has hurt their condition considerably, yet there is no doubt that the early fbi agent with two balls has been forcibly requested from life to death and the two of which come from a pistol, which once part of hemingways opulent weapon collection was.
A spicy case for the local regulators who quickly remember that their ex-colleague mario conde deserves his transparent arrival now as a writer and antiquarian and has always had a special interest in the idiosyncratic guest worker. However, condes ratio to hemingway is cleaved, because its worship of the famous literacy is becoming poorly with the declared aversion to the "coarse and failing, obscene and drunk, self-evident and coarse-pissed americans". Nevertheless, he absolutely wants to prevent hemingway posthum from being held responsible for a murder that he could not commit.
Condes investigations are far more difficult than expected, because over time he has to determine that he did not determine against the powerful kunstler ego, which has joltlessly climbing his place in the literary history. His virtual opponent is a "deceptedly, thought-resistant old", which last even loses the courage "life in that world he had created himself,".
At the havana quartet, the four novels, with whom leonardo padura made far over cuba in the 90s, so it has not remained. Mario conde, which is slightly eccentric, aggressive, sometimes alcohol-dependent, fast in love and yet unfortunate policeman, who acknowledged the service at 36 years, stop it in voluntary retirement. But in "adios hemingway" it’s just on the edge for the declaration of a crime.
For conde, which is in many an anarchic mirror image of henning mankells almost at the same time created commissioner wallander, the criminalistic trail search becomes more and more literary and personal journey of discovery. The less the less, when padura himself felled for years through a "violent hate love" with hemingway and no other possibility saw as his obsessions "transfer to mario conde". He practiced this non-uneven process already in the first part of the havana quartet, "a perfect life". Already at that time, the commissioner so that hemingway, "the admirable idol of his life" to emerge and write a "story about the underground", his vengeance with state-of-life considerations "about the literacy, the first years of the revolution and the class struggle" minimize.
Padura is still fascinated by the ability of the nobel pipe travel, "beauty, outstanding figures or moments of rebellion", but simultaneously foes off hemingway’s amortal appearance – the way the egocentric poet fruhere gonner such as sherwood anderson or gertrude stein made, writing colleagues from the format of a scott fitzgerald or john dos passos publicly blobed or continued as a waffennarr and women’s hero stylized.
Interestingly, padura does not find these two opposites experiences as necessary pages and the same medal. The literary genius and the human catastrophe, however, do not exclude themselves, because the despair of the last years and the rapid suicide with their own hunting rifle act in padura’s consideration as a sailing element.
His death on 2. July 1961, when he puffed the brain, has made him human. That hemingway, who went through heavy suffering in his last years at the edge of a neurosis, who no longer drink, love, hunt and hardly wrote more, won new. A sad hemingway, at the end lonely aug in the eye with his fate, without the many protective masks, with which he had smelled over the years: the jagers, the boxer, the guilleros, the expert for bullfight and cock fighting.
Towards the end of the novel, which is partly written from the perspective of hemingways, he also comes to mario conde only like a "grubby santa claus", which has fallen from the time and for the present day can still give away a sad meretel. The cubans of the 21. Years have other concerns:
All rails packed by an restlessness that looks like in screaming, hectic movements and stealed views. The everyday life drove her, sent her into a battle, which was beaten in the open air, on a thousand fronts. (…) in this dizzying confusion, el conde tried to handle, which did not succeed. For the first time in his more than forty years of life, the straws of the neighborhood came to him alien, hostile, threatening. This chaotic realitat that had slept for many years or hidden in front of him, now she had come to the outbreak as a volcano whose smoke clouds emitted alarming emergency signals. One did not have to be a policeman or private detective, not even a writer to understand that there was no one on this straw, if hemingway was a man who had been to give him life, killed him or not. Life and death played elsewhere else, too far away from the literature and the unreal peace of the finca vigia.
Quote from adios hemingway
That conde can no longer rest the case that was unofficially transferred to him, brings him to the edge of social usability himself.
All in all, he had been a good policeman, despite his aversion to weapons, violence and vacuum and against the power that can manipulate and do everyone through fear and the scary mechanisms of the apparatus. But now, he knew, he was a crappy private detective in a country where there was neither detectives nor a private life, in other words: he was a crooked metaphor in a crooked reality.
Quote from adios hemingway
The openness, with which padura describes the situation in the cuba of the spades castro-ara, is undoubtedly done to bring one or the other functionar to the idea of putting him off again because of "ideological problems" – as many years ago, as he had to change from the magazine "el caiman barbudo" to the less provocative leaf "juventud rebelde". But meanwhile, that was difficult. The award-winning writer is internationally known internationally and especially popular in its own country because of its unmistakable formulations. Padura pays attention to his own, however, however, on it, "do not turn the nut nut."
But if he dreams of it in novels and interviews, "just with open shirt, the trail on the chest and the beer in hand, in the strain and to slice everything as many in this country do," then the socialist realism has end-to-ended. Anyone in this bizarre, sometimes expanding and damaging, but highly exciting book, as the unconditional progress bias of the revolutionares of early years has waxed deep resignation, suspects that the economic conquest and redesign of the country, which has begun with the consent of socialist cadre , only the beginning of a difficult and painful development is. After all, you may be curious what will be excavated in half a century in the garden of the "maximo lider fidel" …
Leonardo padura: adios hemingway. From the cuban spanish translated by hans-joachim hartstein. Union publisher. July 2006. 192 pages. Eur 17.90
The union publisher has published all four gangs of the havana quartet, which are available for 9.90 €: – pasado perfecto (1991, dt.: a perfect life, 2003) – vientos de cuaresma (1994, dt.: trade of the gehlen, 2004) – mascaras (1997, dt.: labyrinth of masks, 2005) – paisaje de otono (1998, dt.: the sea of illusions, 2005)