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spenkevich's review
5.0
‘Every life has its own moon landing.’
It’s interesting to consider how our parent’s occupations often color our understanding of the world at an early age. My father designed car engines and my childhood thoughts on the workings of life had the atmosphere of machinery and grease. I wonder what impressions I am passing onto my own children who are growing up in a bookstore and library as if they were an extension of our own house. Such is the case for M, the young narrator of How to Order the Universe by María José Ferrada and translated by [a:Elizabeth Bryer|8445746|Elizabeth Bryer|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/user/u_50x66-632230dc9882b4352d753eedf9396530.png], who spends her childhood selling Kramp tools with her travelling salesman father, D, often skipping school to do so. This intimate and charming story of a father and daughter becomes a story of Chile in the 1970s and the ways life can take an abrupt and violent turn in the midst of political upheaval. Quirky and adorable with a beautifully beguiling narrator trying to make sense of the world around her, How to Order the Universe is an profound one-sitting-read gem.
Child narrators can be hit-or-miss, but Ferrada pulls this off with captivating grace. Told as a reflection back upon her childhood, M’s narration only provides the scope of what her child-self was able to understand and the unspoken often looms louder than the words on the page. This technique also avoids having to couch everything the way a 10 year old would authentically write, a pitfall that even the precocious-child trick doesn’t always achieve--though M would likely be labeled precocious anyways--while still being able to dip into child-like charm, innocence and diction for effect. If this is autofiction or not is unclear but the hinted possibility gives it a weightier sense that works well and the lack of names (M, D, the mysterious E or the other salesman S) only builds the impression that this is a true story and names are redacted for what becomes obvious political necessity.
‘While D was nothing special as a father, he made an excellent employer.’
The first half of the novel is so sweet and idyllic, following M on her trips with her father as she gets an ‘alternative education’ in life. Her father sells tools for a company called Kramp and is quite proud to present the positive of Kramp tools, so much of M’s impressions and abstract understandings on life revolve around hardware store aesthetics. Stars look like tacks in the sky and her idea of god is one that is The Great Carpenter--a working-class image of god in keeping with the humble beginnings of Jesus. Her world revolves around the life of salesmen, spending her lunches in the cafes and bars frequented by salesmen in each town they travel. There is a love between father and daughter that transcends simple family structure, but one of an even partnership in life that gives M a great sense of maturity, self-esteem and self-reliance. She is also aware of the power she can have over a situation, especially learning at a young age that her ‘on-the-brink-of-tears’ gaze can be a secret weapon in winning over potential clients.
I spent a chunk of my late 20s as a travelling delivery driver for a coffee company, so idyllic renderings of life on the road has always really worked for me and sifts out the positive memories and impressions from that time away from all the negatives that had sometimes clouded my joy in the moment. Books like this make me proud of my affinity with drivers and delivery workers. Here we get to witness the quirks of travelling salesmen and the way they self-mythologize themselves on their travels, their stories growing into legends as they further market themselves as much as their own products.
‘E was a secondary character in our lives,’ M says, ‘and we were secondary characters in a larger story.’ The story begins to take on the taintings of a struggle going on just beyond M’s frame of reference on life when her father begins to hang out with his friend E--a traveling cinema man who does photography on the side (with a connection to foreign newspapers, M once overhears). Something about E connects to M’s mostly absent mother and her abject sadness, for the mother begins crying the first time E comes to their house. For M, her mother’s lack of presence in her life isn’t foretelling of some great tragedy, but merely a convenience that allows her to live her life on the road with her father.
The idyllic nature of the novel comes to an abrupt end and everything is suddenly scattered. M can only half understand it, though the reader will follow a great deal more particularly with any knowledge of the violent Pinochet regime in Chile and the US-backed coups across South America. Her lack of understanding makes everything so much more heart wrenching. M often uses personal terminology for emotions in her life, much like the way children often have made up terms for things. There is the ‘black-hole feeling’ (there is a space theme to much of the metaphors in this book) which is ‘a sadness that, even though you feel it, doesn’t belong to you,’ but even more heartbreaking is when an event occurs that releases ‘lucky beetles’ from a barrage of black-holes being shot into someone in front of her:
‘”lucky beetles” are not a species, but an insect that alights in the exact spot where life took a different course… It’s a fraction of a second so small that only an insect can pass through it. An insect that, when it appears, parts life in two.’
There is something akin to the structure of the film Life is Beautiful going on in this book, where the lighthearted comedy of the first half juxtaposed with the tragedy of the latter half gives each a stronger emotional pull. The narrative quickly speeds up over a few years with the advancement of M’s age coming more quickly to emphasize the way she emotionally ages due to the very adult situations befalling her. M is taken away from her father by her mother for his involvement with what happens to E, she learns the truth of her mother’s sadness, and more. The world has collapsed around M and she must find the strength to push on with the innocence of her childhood dramatically torn from her by events beyond her control.
The novel becomes a tear-jerker with her father pretending to sell tools that no longer exist just to keep the dream alive for M when she visits, salesmen all carrying guns in case they decide they’ve had enough of life...it gets bleak. It becomes the story of Chile and the fallout from the coup, something that still has residue on the nation to the present when massive protests were breaking out in 2019 and eventually the people voted to rewrite their Constitution.
This is such a lovely little novella and it destroyed me in the best way. The Tin House publishing edition is really nice, though it only contains a small space of text on each page, making a 170pg book out of what would otherwise have been probably 90. I was also very impressed her next book to be translated into English by Bryer, [b:How to Turn Into a Bird|60583991|How to Turn Into a Bird|María José Ferrada|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1660942290l/60583991._SX50_.jpg|90720712], which I reviewed here. This is heartwarming and heartbreaking, showing both the fun and fragility of life seen through the eyes of a delightful young girl. It can be read in a single sitting, which I did and felt the whole spectrum of emotions pass through me in a really redeeming and refreshing way. Finishing the book feels like the end of a good cry, one you know you really needed. While this is a quick read, it is definitely one that will stick with you.
4.75/5
It’s interesting to consider how our parent’s occupations often color our understanding of the world at an early age. My father designed car engines and my childhood thoughts on the workings of life had the atmosphere of machinery and grease. I wonder what impressions I am passing onto my own children who are growing up in a bookstore and library as if they were an extension of our own house. Such is the case for M, the young narrator of How to Order the Universe by María José Ferrada and translated by [a:Elizabeth Bryer|8445746|Elizabeth Bryer|https://s.gr-assets.com/assets/nophoto/user/u_50x66-632230dc9882b4352d753eedf9396530.png], who spends her childhood selling Kramp tools with her travelling salesman father, D, often skipping school to do so. This intimate and charming story of a father and daughter becomes a story of Chile in the 1970s and the ways life can take an abrupt and violent turn in the midst of political upheaval. Quirky and adorable with a beautifully beguiling narrator trying to make sense of the world around her, How to Order the Universe is an profound one-sitting-read gem.
Child narrators can be hit-or-miss, but Ferrada pulls this off with captivating grace. Told as a reflection back upon her childhood, M’s narration only provides the scope of what her child-self was able to understand and the unspoken often looms louder than the words on the page. This technique also avoids having to couch everything the way a 10 year old would authentically write, a pitfall that even the precocious-child trick doesn’t always achieve--though M would likely be labeled precocious anyways--while still being able to dip into child-like charm, innocence and diction for effect. If this is autofiction or not is unclear but the hinted possibility gives it a weightier sense that works well and the lack of names (M, D, the mysterious E or the other salesman S) only builds the impression that this is a true story and names are redacted for what becomes obvious political necessity.
‘While D was nothing special as a father, he made an excellent employer.’
The first half of the novel is so sweet and idyllic, following M on her trips with her father as she gets an ‘alternative education’ in life. Her father sells tools for a company called Kramp and is quite proud to present the positive of Kramp tools, so much of M’s impressions and abstract understandings on life revolve around hardware store aesthetics. Stars look like tacks in the sky and her idea of god is one that is The Great Carpenter--a working-class image of god in keeping with the humble beginnings of Jesus. Her world revolves around the life of salesmen, spending her lunches in the cafes and bars frequented by salesmen in each town they travel. There is a love between father and daughter that transcends simple family structure, but one of an even partnership in life that gives M a great sense of maturity, self-esteem and self-reliance. She is also aware of the power she can have over a situation, especially learning at a young age that her ‘on-the-brink-of-tears’ gaze can be a secret weapon in winning over potential clients.
I spent a chunk of my late 20s as a travelling delivery driver for a coffee company, so idyllic renderings of life on the road has always really worked for me and sifts out the positive memories and impressions from that time away from all the negatives that had sometimes clouded my joy in the moment. Books like this make me proud of my affinity with drivers and delivery workers. Here we get to witness the quirks of travelling salesmen and the way they self-mythologize themselves on their travels, their stories growing into legends as they further market themselves as much as their own products.
‘E was a secondary character in our lives,’ M says, ‘and we were secondary characters in a larger story.’ The story begins to take on the taintings of a struggle going on just beyond M’s frame of reference on life when her father begins to hang out with his friend E--a traveling cinema man who does photography on the side (with a connection to foreign newspapers, M once overhears). Something about E connects to M’s mostly absent mother and her abject sadness, for the mother begins crying the first time E comes to their house. For M, her mother’s lack of presence in her life isn’t foretelling of some great tragedy, but merely a convenience that allows her to live her life on the road with her father.
The idyllic nature of the novel comes to an abrupt end and everything is suddenly scattered. M can only half understand it, though the reader will follow a great deal more particularly with any knowledge of the violent Pinochet regime in Chile and the US-backed coups across South America. Her lack of understanding makes everything so much more heart wrenching. M often uses personal terminology for emotions in her life, much like the way children often have made up terms for things. There is the ‘black-hole feeling’ (there is a space theme to much of the metaphors in this book) which is ‘a sadness that, even though you feel it, doesn’t belong to you,’ but even more heartbreaking is when an event occurs that releases ‘lucky beetles’ from a barrage of black-holes being shot into someone in front of her:
‘”lucky beetles” are not a species, but an insect that alights in the exact spot where life took a different course… It’s a fraction of a second so small that only an insect can pass through it. An insect that, when it appears, parts life in two.’
There is something akin to the structure of the film Life is Beautiful going on in this book, where the lighthearted comedy of the first half juxtaposed with the tragedy of the latter half gives each a stronger emotional pull. The narrative quickly speeds up over a few years with the advancement of M’s age coming more quickly to emphasize the way she emotionally ages due to the very adult situations befalling her. M is taken away from her father by her mother for his involvement with what happens to E, she learns the truth of her mother’s sadness, and more. The world has collapsed around M and she must find the strength to push on with the innocence of her childhood dramatically torn from her by events beyond her control.
‘I remember him saying, so many times, that it was improbable that a house constructed from 80 percent Kramp products would collapse in the event of an earthquake or a tornado, and realized that mine was one of the unfortunate cases that fell within the improbability.
For the earthquake had come, the feared tornado, and my construction, made from 95 percent Kramp products, was now a pile of sticks.’
The novel becomes a tear-jerker with her father pretending to sell tools that no longer exist just to keep the dream alive for M when she visits, salesmen all carrying guns in case they decide they’ve had enough of life...it gets bleak. It becomes the story of Chile and the fallout from the coup, something that still has residue on the nation to the present when massive protests were breaking out in 2019 and eventually the people voted to rewrite their Constitution.
This is such a lovely little novella and it destroyed me in the best way. The Tin House publishing edition is really nice, though it only contains a small space of text on each page, making a 170pg book out of what would otherwise have been probably 90. I was also very impressed her next book to be translated into English by Bryer, [b:How to Turn Into a Bird|60583991|How to Turn Into a Bird|María José Ferrada|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1660942290l/60583991._SX50_.jpg|90720712], which I reviewed here. This is heartwarming and heartbreaking, showing both the fun and fragility of life seen through the eyes of a delightful young girl. It can be read in a single sitting, which I did and felt the whole spectrum of emotions pass through me in a really redeeming and refreshing way. Finishing the book feels like the end of a good cry, one you know you really needed. While this is a quick read, it is definitely one that will stick with you.
4.75/5
masonrystyle's review against another edition
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.5
A quick intriguing read through the memories of a young girl traveling with her father selling goods to hardware stores.
rieviolet's review against another edition
emotional
funny
reflective
sad
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
4.0
This was certainly a very interesting and unique book. In all honesty, I liked the first part of the story (following the narrator's brief career as a traveling salesman's little assistant) better than the latter chapters. I also felt like the ending was a bit too abrupt and open-ended.
The story is built on a general sense of vagueness (partly due to the child narrator) but I can see how this can easily turn into a frustrating aspect. The reader really needs to be an active participant, trying to put together all the pieces to make sense of the narration, but they are also expected to draw upon their personal knowledge of Chilean history to fully grasp what is only hinted at by the author.
I appreciated the humorous undertone of the story (sometimes verging into pure quirkiness), though I have to say it was a stark contrast with the more somber and melancholic second half.
The language is very matter-of-fact but I think that this stylistic choice, to have a prose bared to its bones, actually helps to make the emotions stand out very easily and vividly. I underlined many passages of reflections that really struck a chord with me.
This novella packs a lot in just a hundred pages and I think that it would benefit from a re-read, so as to uncover some of the more subtle elements. I'm glad I finally explored a bit more of literature from South America.
The story is built on a general sense of vagueness (partly due to the child narrator) but I can see how this can easily turn into a frustrating aspect. The reader really needs to be an active participant, trying to put together all the pieces to make sense of the narration, but they are also expected to draw upon their personal knowledge of Chilean history to fully grasp what is only hinted at by the author.
I appreciated the humorous undertone of the story (sometimes verging into pure quirkiness), though I have to say it was a stark contrast with the more somber and melancholic second half.
The language is very matter-of-fact but I think that this stylistic choice, to have a prose bared to its bones, actually helps to make the emotions stand out very easily and vividly. I underlined many passages of reflections that really struck a chord with me.
This novella packs a lot in just a hundred pages and I think that it would benefit from a re-read, so as to uncover some of the more subtle elements. I'm glad I finally explored a bit more of literature from South America.
Content Warnings
Minor: Cursing, Gun violence, Homophobia, Infidelity, Racism, Self harm, Sexism, Suicidal thoughts, Suicide, Car accident, Murder, and Alcohol
regans's review
reflective
sad
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
3.5
drawmeabookreview's review
mysterious
reflective
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
2.75
zalida's review against another edition
emotional
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
5.0