not my cup of tea --very hard to follow ( )

I can see why Helen Oyeyemi likes her work so much. ( )

Probably closer to 3.5. I first became aware of Ocampo reading her incredible short story The House Made of Sugar online. I was hoping for more like that from this book, but there was nothing as immediately striking and unsettling as that. There are some good bits here and there, but it felt like I was doing a lot of picking through for them. ( )

This is a collection of strange stories. The best word I can think of to describe them is unmoored -- Ocampo seems uninterested in tethering her stories to reality. Dream and reality blend into each other; past memories and future desires are interchangeable; and characterization is nonexistent -- characters are so empty and alike that anything that impacts them seems more the result of a choice rather than characterization. And then a desultory choice at best.

These stories refuse to adhere to the conventions of written prose: Aristotle’s three unities are roundly rejected, as are unity of theme, plot linearity, plot coherence, and whatever other expectation you may bring to them. Dipping into these felt like descending in a barely-coherent dreamworld in which anything out of the ordinary might happen, on the condition that it’s barely sensible. ( )

Silvina Ocampo (1903-1993), poet and extraordinary teller of tales from Argentina.

More than 30 stories collected here, as dark, Gothic, fantastic, imaginative and disturbing as any tales you will ever read. And for those who are not familiar with Silvina Ocampo, this NYRB Classic includes an insightful introductory essay by contemporary British novelist Helen Oyeyemi and also a preface by Jorge Luis Borges. To share a specific taste for the author’s world-class storytelling, here is my write-up of one of the many memorable tale from the collection:

The House Made Out of Sugar
Terror All Around: “Superstitions kept Cristina from living.” Our first-person narrator begins by elaborating on how the love of his life, a young lady he will soon marry, Cristina, is made mad by fear over such objects as a coin with a blurry face, a spot of ink or the moon seen through two panes of glass; and not only with such as coins or ink, but Cristina refuses to cross certain streets, to see certain people, listen to certain pieces of music or eat strawberries in summer.

Harsh Judgement: Back at the time when her tales were first published, many literary critics judged Silvina Ocampo’s treatment of her characters as “far too cruel.” With Cristina, we are given a sense of just how cruel – to be in terror of much of ordinary, everyday life to the point of acute paranoia was, according to those critics, cruelty in the extreme, entirely unacceptable for an author of literary fiction.

Dream House: Once engaged to be married, our narrator must find a new place to live, one where no one has lived previously, since, according to Cristina, the fate of any former occupant would exert an influence on her own life (not on his life or their joint lives, he notes somewhat sourly, but only on her life). Finally, he finds such a house, an absolutely perfect house with a phone inside and garden in front, a house so white and gleaming it’s as if it’s made of sugar.

Unfortunate Fact: He discovers a family once did occupy the house many years ago. No big deal, he thinks, and proceeds to convince Cristina no one has ever lived there and this house of sugar is the house of their dreams. Cristina believes him, cries out with joy once she takes a tour: “Here it smells clean. Nobody will be able to influence our lives or soil them with thoughts that corrupt the air.” So, a few days later they wed and move in. Do you sense a trace of Gothic horror brewing?

Chinks in The Armor: Their happiness runneth over; their tranquility seems like it will never be broken. Then it happened: one day he answered the phone and someone asked for Mrs. Violeta, the person he surmised to be the previous tenant. Ah, if Cristina answered that phone call, that would spell the end of their happy marriage forever. Precautionary measures must be taken: he makes sure the phone remains off the hook and places a mailbox out by the gate and keeps for himself the one and only mailbox key.

Mysterious Gift: Then, early one morning there’s a knock at the door – someone has left a package. He races downstairs but Cristina has already ripped open the package and is holding a velvet dress. “When did you order the dress, Cristina, and how did you pay for it?” She replies: “I ordered it some time ago and Mother gave me a few pesos.” This seems strange but he doesn’t say anything so as to offend her. Shortly thereafter, he notices Cristina’s character change: she has become sad, reserved, and nervous; she has lost her appetite and no longer wants to go to the theater or movies. Something is definitely amiss.

Gnawing Suspicion: A dog enters their garden; Cristina names the dog Love and takes the dog in as her own. Then one afternoon he comes home unexpectedly and discovers a bicycle lying in the yard. Cristina is speaking with a young woman. He hides behind the door to overhear their conversation. The woman says she always wanted to meet her ever since she was eight-years old girl and calls Cristina by the name of Violeta. The young girl insists Violeta (Cristina) keep her lost dog and she will visit occasionally. Cristina replies how visits would be impossible since her husband doesn’t like strangers. The young girl, in turn, proposes they meet every Monday evening at seven at Columbia Square, on one of the bridges. Cristina tells her that her name is not Violeta, to which the young lady says how she has always been mysterious. At this point she leaves. Meanwhile, the narrator begins to feel a gnawing suspicion since it was as if he had just witnessed a theatrical rehearsal but he says nothing to Cristina.

Violeta: Every day the narrator walks to the bridge to check to see if Cristina will come. He doesn’t see her but one day at home Cristina is hugging the dog and asks him if he would like it if she change her name to Violeta. He tells Cristina he wants her to keep her own name. Then, on a Saturday night he finally sees her on the bridge. She shows no surprise when he approaches. They exchange words and Cristina says how she dreams about trips, leaving without ever leaving, leaving and staying and by staying leaving.

Probing Question: Then one fateful day when he sees her again on the bridge, he ventures to ask, “If we were to discover that this house was once inhabited by other people, what would you do, Cristina? Would you move away? Cristina replies, “If other people lived in this house, they must have been like those sugar figurines on desserts, or birthday cakes, sweet as sugar. This house makes me feel secure. It is the little garden by the entrance that makes me feel so calm? I don’t know! I wouldn’t move for all the money in the world. Besides, we don’t have anywhere to go. You yourself said that some time ago.”

Ominous Visitor: One morning he watches from an upstairs window as a stranger arrives and threatens Cristina, saying if she, Violeta, sees Daniel again she will pay dearly. Cristina replies she doesn’t know Daniel and her name isn’t Violeta. The stranger accuses Cristina of lying. Cristina says she doesn’t want to listen. Hearing this, the narrator rushes downstairs and tells the intruder to get out. He looks closely at the stranger’s feet, hands and neck and realizes it’s a man in woman’s clothing. He doesn’t exchange words with Cristina on this episode but it was around this time that Cristina began singing spontaneously. Her voice was pleasant enough but it felt like a secret world that drew her away. Why?

Identity Theft: Then one day Cristina says, “I suspect I am inheriting someone’s life, her joys and sorrows, mistakes and successes. I’m bewitched.” This startling revelation propels the narrator on a search for Violeta and the story takes a few more mysterious and eerily disturbing turns leading up to the concluding short paragraph: “From then on, Cristina had become Violeta, at least as far as I was concerned. I tried following her day and night to find her in the arms of her lovers. I became so estranged from her that I viewed her as a complete stranger. One winter night she fled. I searched for her until dawn. I don’t know who was the victim of whom in that house made of sugar, which now stands empty.”
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