August 21, 2008
The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz
Zafón
Remember back in January 1994 when the Martha Graham Dance Company came to Los Alamos? On Super Bowl Sunday? In a blizzard? In spite of the weather and the competition with Dallas vs. Buffalo, the auditorium was packed. People had to be turned away, back into the dark winter storm.
Inside the warm auditorium, “Appalachian Spring” and “Maple Leaf Rag” were wonderful. I didn’t worry that a dancer would forget the choreography or have to move his lips to count. I didn’t 
worry about the sound guy missing a cue. I remember just basking in the glow of the perfect performances. In the same way I basked in The Shadow of the Wind, Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s first novel for adults.
Daniel, a 10-year-old boy is taken by his bookseller father to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books. His father tells Daniel, “According to tradition, the first time someone visits this place, he must choose a book, whichever he wants, and adopt it, making sure that it will never disappear, that it will always stay alive. It’s a very important promise. For life . . . . Today it’s your turn.”
Daniel picks out a novel The Shadow of the Wind, by an obscure Spanish writer, Julián Carax. The choice will shape Daniel’s life, and launches him as a young man on the quest that is the elaborate centerpiece of Ruiz Zafón’s novel. Once grown, Daniel pursues the mystery of Carax, supposedly killed in Barcelona at the start of the civil war.
His search begins when he learns of the strange disappearance of all of Carax’s novels, except for his own copy and several others in the Cemetery. For years, a man named Laín Coubert has dedicated himself to eradicating Carax’s work completely by buying up and burning Carax’s books in a series of small fires, and finally in a conflagration that destroys a publisher’s entire warehoused stock. But in Carax’s book, Laín Coubert is the name of the Devil. (Even as a child Daniel is shadowed by the mysterious figure, disfigured and reeking of burned paper, who destroyed Carax’s works.)
The searcher and searched-for fulfill the message of the Cemetery: that its books will first possess and then transform the lives of those who rescue and read them.
Whether they are principals or minor players, the characters in The Shadow of the Wind pulse with life. One of my favorites is Fermin, who was living on the streets after falling on hard times and then is hired to work in the bookshop. He responds to the brutal beating of Don Federico, who dared to appear in drag and sing risqué songs at a club.
“Not evil,” Fermin objected. “Moronic, which isn’t quite the same thing. Evil presupposed a moral decision, intention, and some forethought. A moron or lout, however, doesn’t stop to think or reason. He acts on instinct, like a stable animal, convinced that he’s doing good, that he’s always right, and sanctimoniously proud to go around f—ing up, if you’ll excuse the French, anyone he perceives to be different from himself, be it because of skin color, creed, language, nationality, or, as in the case of Don Federico, his leisure habits. What the world needs is more thoroughly evil people and fewer borderline pigheads.”
The language of the novel, beautifully translated by Lucia Graves (daughter of the poet Robert Graves) is vibrant and smooth, while the intricate and beguiling plot twists and unravels at a leisurely pace. As I was reading, I just basked and basked in Zafón’s—and Graves’—perfect performance. I hope you will, too.—PD
