LETRAS

Pensamos que no seríamos capaces de cometer un crimen, hasta que lo hacemos. Los seres humanos piensan que saben de qué son capaces. Creen que no podrían escapar de los policías, que nunca le harían mal a un niño. Yo no podría matar a mis padres; hagan lo que hagan, me dieron la vida. O yo no llegaría jamás hasta la violación. No sería capaz de acelerar al volante en un puente con mis hijos en el auto y caer al vacío. Pero todo eso lo decimos antes; no somos capaces, es cierto, nos resulta impensable el crimen, hasta que pasamos al acto. Perder el juicio cuenta la historia de un robo, de una apropiación, de un incendio provocado. Esta obra es el viaje de un secuestro donde la vida es vista como el armado de una evasión. Como dice Harwicz, se escribe una novela cuando se está en desacuerdo con el sentido de las palabras, cuando dejar de mentir es imposible.

Conocimos a Frank Bascombe en el ya lejano 1986 con El periodista deportivo y sus andanzas nos han ido mostrando las transformaciones de Estados Unidos en las últimas décadas. Reaparece ahora con 74 años y arranca su relato con esta frase: «Últimamente, me ha dado por pensar en la felicidad más que antes.» A continuación, hace un repaso sucinto de su vida: perdió a un hijo, a sus padres y a algún otro ser querido; ha pasado por dos divorcios; ha sobrevivido a un cáncer; recibió un disparo en el pecho y ha superado huracanes y una depresión. Ahora, al final de su vida, se ve convertido en cuidador de su hijo Paul, que padece ELA y está recibiendo tratamiento en la Clínica Mayo de Rochester, Minnesota. Cuando le dan el alta, padre e hijo deciden emprender un viaje hasta el emblemático monte Rushmore, evocando otro que Frank hizo de niño, con sus progenitores. Norteamérica −con Trump en el horizonte− desfila por la ventanilla del coche y se suceden los encuentros con personajes variopintos, mientras padre e hijo aprenden a conocerse. Frank pasa revista a su vida llena de altibajos y cambios, y trata de encontrar en ella algo de sentido y esperanza, atisbos de felicidad. Richard Ford retorna −con toda probabilidad por última vez− a su personaje más emblemático para construir otra monumental «gran novela americana».

When 13-year-old Jolie Aspern drops her phone onto the subway tracks in 2011, her estranged dad, Ethan, seems like the furthest thing from her mind. A convicted felon and recovering addict, Ethan has always struggled to see past himself. But then a call from his ex makes him fear their daughter's in deeper trouble than anyone realizes. Believing he's the only one who can save her, he decides to return to New York with a gift: the whole of his life, its hard-won triumphs and harrowing mistakes . . . So begins the intimate epic of Jolie and Ethan: child and adult, apart and together, different yet the same. Their journey toward each other will face opposition from grandparents and siblings and friends. It will strain connections with roommates and benefactors and a probation officer desperate to help. It will push Jolie out past her depth with a mysterious admirer, and Ethan in over his head with his first love, Jolie's mom. But as father and daughter struggle to find their footing, new vistas beckon: from a surf break in mid-'90s Delaware to group therapy during the great recession, from an encampment at Occupy Wall Street to a HoJo on Maryland's Eastern Shore, from the heights of the Brooklyn Bridge to horizons seldom seen in fiction.

1950s Hollywood: Every actress wants to play Salome, the star-making role in a big-budget movie about the legendary woman whose story has inspired artists since ancient times. So when the film’s mercurial director casts Vera Larios, an unknown Mexican ingenue, in the lead role, she quickly becomes the talk of the town. Vera also becomes an object of envy for Nancy Hartley, a bit player whose career has stalled and who will do anything to win the fame she believes she richly deserves. Two actresses, both determined to make it to the top in Golden Age Hollywood—a city overflowing with gossip, scandal, and intrigue—make for a sizzling combination. But this is the tale of three women, for it is also the story of the princess Salome herself, consumed with desire for the fiery prophet who foretells the doom of her stepfather, Herod: a woman torn between the decree of duty and the yearning of her heart. Before the curtain comes down, there will be tears and tragedy aplenty in this sexy Technicolor saga.

Real Americans begins on the precipice of Y2K in New York City, when twenty-two-year-old Lily Chen, an unpaid intern at a slick media company, meets Matthew. Matthew is everything Lily is not: easygoing and effortlessly attractive, a native East Coaster, and, most notably, heir to a vast pharmaceutical empire. Lily couldn't be more different: flat-broke, raised in Tampa, the only child of scientists who fled Mao’s Cultural Revolution. Despite all this, Lily and Matthew fall in love. In 2021, fifteen-year-old Nick Chen has never felt like he belonged on the isolated Washington island where he lives with his single mother, Lily. He can't shake the sense she's hiding something. When Nick sets out to find his biological father, the journey threatens to raise more questions than it provides answers. In immersive, moving prose, Rachel Khong weaves a profound tale of class and striving, race and visibility, and family and inheritance—a story of trust, forgiveness, and finally coming home. Exuberant and explosive, Real Americans is a social novel par excellence that asks: Are we destined, or made? And if we are made, who gets to do the making? Can our genetic past be overcome?

“Were we gangsters? No. But did we know how to start a fire?” In 1980, a wealthy businessman named Carl Fletcher is kidnapped from his driveway, brutalized, and held for ransom. He is returned to his wife and kids less than a week later, only slightly the worse, and the family moves on with their lives, resuming their prized places in the saga of the American dream, comforted in the realization that though their money may have been what endangered them, it is also what assured them their safety. But now, nearly forty years later, it’s clear that perhaps nobody ever got over anything, after all. Carl has spent the ensuing years secretly seeking closure to the matter of his kidnapping, while his wife, Ruth, has spent her potential protecting her husband’s emotional health. Their three grown children aren’t doing much better: Nathan’s chronic fear won’t allow him to advance at his law firm; Beamer, a Hollywood screenwriter, will consume anything—substance, foodstuff, women—in order to numb his own perpetual terror; and Jenny has spent her life so bent on proving that she’s not a product of her family’s pathology that she has come to define it. As they hover at the delicate precipice of a different kind of survival, they learn that the family fortune has dwindled to just about nothing, and they must face desperate questions about how much their wealth has played a part in both their lives’ successes and failures.