Yesterday by Emar Juan

Author:Emar, Juan [Emar, Juan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: LATINAMERICA, UPLOADFILE24, CHILE, 1930s, AVANTGARDE, NOVEL, 20THC, 1920S, ULAPRIL2024, SURREAL
ISBN: 9780811231589
Google: JgZaEAAAQBAJ
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 60157931
Publisher: New Directions
Published: 2022-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

Far away now from Chasuble Square, I said to her: “I’m sorry I still can’t give you any observations and haven’t reached any conclusions. On the other hand, for some time now I’ve been observing something else, something I find to be consistently true. It is this: whenever I am ruled by pessimistic ideas, anytime I want to exterminate four out of every five of my fellow men, it is because, without feeling it, I’m hungry.”

“I’m hungry and I feel it,” she replied.

We returned to the Basilica restaurant. We sat at a different table. The one we had at lunch was taken.

My wife ordered:

Assorted charcuterie.

Caldo de gallo.

Bull testicle canapés.

Cherimoya fruit with orange juice.

I ordered:

Chicken salad.

Valdiviano soup.

Chilean-style charquicán stew.

Crepes with honey.

And for the second time that day, we both coincided on coffee.

“Shall we go?” she asked me.

“Let’s go,” I answered.

“I should like to see my family,” I said as we were leaving.

“A commendable desire,” she replied.

My family owns a kind of mansion at the end of Sacred Heart Street. We headed in that direction. Twenty minutes later, a servant was letting us in and announcing us in the salon.

My father, my mother, my brother Pedro, my sister María, and the Uruguayan consul were all gathered in the room.

From the moment we crossed the threshold, our presence seemed to inspire a frank hilarity in all of them, which they tried to suppress but which, in spite of their efforts, slipped out through the corners of their mouths.

My father is an extremely serious man. When he does laugh it becomes a national holiday in our house and the telephone is tasked with communicating the event to our whole tribe of relatives. Well, he came towards me now, smiling with his eyes, and he clapped me on the back with such gaiety that a peal of laughter burst from him like a rocket.

My mother is normal. She smiles when one should smile and laughs when one should laugh. On this occasion she showed, most intensely and with real satisfaction, a wordless approval of the general glee.

And there was my brother Pedro, over in a corner of the room, arms crossed and laughing to himself so snidely that it recalled his meanest, most unbearable moments.

My sister María barely contained herself for a few seconds before exploding into an inexhaustible fit of laughter.

And, finally, the Uruguayan consul let just a tiny bit of malice trickle out and down his beard.

Faced with this scene, I was stupefied. But all I could do was push the stupefaction back down into my body and take a seat in a chair. Then the conversation began to unfold in an ordinary way, except for the intermittent eruption of ill-stifled laughter. I gradually became aware that what they were really doing among themselves was asking and answering a question during the gaps in the conversation, and although it was impossible to know what the hell it was all about, I could sum up the question and answer thus: “Is it time yet?” “Easy, not yet.

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