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A review by octavia_cade
By Night the Mountain Burns by Juan Tomás Ávila Laurel
reflective
slow-paced
4.0
I have to admit that, when reading this, I was unsure if it was fiction or memoir. It turns out it's the former, but the afterword indicates that it's based on the author's childhood memories of growing up on the island of Annobón. It's beautifully written, anyway, and if there's quite a lot of repetition here, it's clearly a conscious choice, one that's influenced very much by rhythm. There's something almost soothing about that repetition, even when the subject matter is distressing. It almost feels like wave motion, that sort of rocking back and forth, which is very suited to the tone of the book: there's something very reflective about it.
That wave-motion of the prose is particularly fitting, given that so much of this book is concerned with island life. The ocean here is one of the main sources of food, and the construction of canoes - a community endeavour, and one accompanied by song - is an ongoing event. Honestly, there are a lot more supposedly compelling moments here: the mob murder of a lone woman, the fire, the death of a child and the long struggle to transport it to a hospital, for instance. Yet when I think back on what I've just read, it's the quiet construction of the canoes that makes the strongest impression. In many ways, that considered, necessary craftsmanship is the quiet heart of this book, and I can't help but think that the pages bear some relationship to the vessels... I suppose they do, after all, consist of the same substance.
That wave-motion of the prose is particularly fitting, given that so much of this book is concerned with island life. The ocean here is one of the main sources of food, and the construction of canoes - a community endeavour, and one accompanied by song - is an ongoing event. Honestly, there are a lot more supposedly compelling moments here: the mob murder of a lone woman, the fire, the death of a child and the long struggle to transport it to a hospital, for instance. Yet when I think back on what I've just read, it's the quiet construction of the canoes that makes the strongest impression. In many ways, that considered, necessary craftsmanship is the quiet heart of this book, and I can't help but think that the pages bear some relationship to the vessels... I suppose they do, after all, consist of the same substance.