Matute’s book belongs to a genre which might be called mythological reminiscence. Sitting alongside The Grand Meaulnes, for example. Perhaps Ferrante, although I have never read her. It’s a tale from the Spanish Civil War, told through the eyes of Matia, a fourteen year old narrator, living on the island of Mallorca, long before it became a playground for the rich. Matute’s island is a depopulated place where kids can roam, row around by boat, have fights with rival gangs and discover secrets. It’s also an island split by two fissures. Firstly, the differing sides of the Civil War, with Matia’s grandmother firmly on the side of Franco, and secondly a more ancient dispute, when the Jewish inhabitants of the island were persecuted in the inquisition, even if their descendants live on. As such, a violence underpins life on the island, a violence which is connected to Matia’s grandmother’s relationship with her children, who are all away, caught up in the war, and the other locals. Matia strikes up an adolescent friendship with Manuel, whose Republican father has been killed. It’s a relationship which teeters on the edge of politics, adulthood and sex. Her cousin, Borja, who lives with her, who is resentful and jealous, plots his revenge. The Island is a delicate, nostalgic tale, anchored in the scenery and nature of the island, an opaque coming of age tale which subtly seduces the reader with its mysteries, as well as framing the war as a tangential, background event in the lives of these children as they grow up.
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