Review: "January" by Sara Gallardo

January by Sara Gallardo
Translated by Frances Riddle and Maureen Shaughnessy
English translation published October 2023 via Archipelago
★★★★★

In rural Argentina in the 1950s, Nefer is pregnant. Her body has not yet given away her secret, but it has betrayed her all the same; to Nefer, her body and the boy she yearns after and the man whose child she carries have all betrayed her.

What is a day? What is the world when everything inside you shudders? (loc. 89)

First published in 1958, this is a novella far ahead of its time. Exploring themes of rape, abortion, class, and powerlessness—to name just a few—every sentence packs a punch. I don't want to say too much about the plot (it did not go where I expected it to, but the end makes far more sense than anything I predicted), but the character work here is masterful. Gallardo is so deep in Nefer's mind and soul here as Nefer worries and daydreams and tries to imagine a way out of her predicament, as she milks the cows and goes to her yearly confession—more on that in a moment—and wrestles with the fact that there is nobody who can offer the support and compassion she needs, and chances of a good outcome are slim.

Nefer tightens her grip on the damp reins and runs her tongue over her lips. Then she extinguishes her soul and continues along the road, which curves before reaching the house. (loc. 277)

The yearly confession is not the main point of the book, but it sticks with me. This is rural Argentina more than half a century ago, remember; it's a small community where everybody knows everybody else's business—not a large enough community to have a priest of their own. Theirs is a travelling priest, then, not always the same one from year to year, catching up on confessions and baptisms and the formalities of marriage, a powerful figure but not one with a real connection to the community. I'm fascinated by the practical nature of the way marriages that might have been in effect for most of a year are "certified"—made right in the eyes of the Catholic church, I suppose—practical, and yet it's so clearly understood in the community that this lack of formality is acceptable for only so long. Stepping outside the accepted order of things is only acceptable in certain circumstances, and can only be forgiven in certain ways.

Most of Gallardo's work has not, as far as I can tell, been translated into English, but I hope more follows. If this had been written in 2023, I think I'd call it a high four stars, but given the context of time and place I'm bumping it up to five.

Thanks to the publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.