I. Loved. This. Book.
Although a quick Google search might call this novel a “murder mystery,” I think that’s quite a stretch. By the halfway point, I felt the book was leaning more towards fantasy because of its whimsical, mysterious, and somewhat unsettling tone (I’ll explain this more later!). However, towards the end, it shifted towards resembling a thriller, which is exactly what I like.
A. Who is Felix?
The narrative revolves around an affluent, older albino man who earns his living by assisting bourgeois individuals who have bright and promising futures but have an undesirable past. Essentially, Felix assists these individuals in crafting identities that “resonate with nobility and [the dominant] culture” of Angola (Agualusa 16). But despite his involvement in fabricating histories, Felix doesn’t see himself as a criminal for doing this. When working on Jose Buchmann’s story, he insists he is “not a forger” (Agualusa 18) and refuses to fake Buchmann’s identity documents. Instead, Felix describes his role as that of a storyteller who crafts people’s histories through genealogy and family trees (Agualusa 16), but despite his claims, it’s clear to me that Felix operates as a forger in essence lol.
B. A Kafka-Like Narration: “The Metamorphosis”
Interestingly, the story is also narrated from the perspective of a Tiger Gecko named Eulalio, Felix Ventura’s best friend. Initially, I mistook the narrator for Felix’s house, given the descriptions imbued with human-like qualities, such as breathing and moving (Agualusa 9). Felix describes Eulalio’s gecko species as possessing a laugh remarkably similar to that of humans, hinting at the novel’s conclusion where Edmundo identifies Jose through his laughter.
The narrative style, especially from Eulalio’s point of view, reminded me of Kafka’s “The Metamorphosis.” Like the protagonist in Kafka’s work who becomes a beetle, Eulalio was once a human man whose “soul [is] [now] trapped in this [new] body” (Agualusa 40). Eulalio frequently reflects on his past human life, such as his inability to form human connections -– especially with women — due to his upbringing and his sexual experience with Dagmar. This really prompted me to question the purpose of his transformation within the context of the story. It indeed made Eulalio more human, but I can’t seem to connect it with the themes within this story (such as deceit or revenge).
C. The Truth Always Comes Out
Returning to the unsettling aspect mentioned earlier, the novel starts dropping hints that things are not as they appear in the second half. First, the gecko notices changes in Jose Buchmann, describing it as a “metamorphosis” (Agualusa 55). Specifically, Jose’s accent begins to shift, losing its Slavic-Brazilian blend in favor of a Luandan rhythm (Agualusa 55). It felt as though Jose had always been “Jose Buchmann” (Agualusa 59), even though this was not his identity. This uneasy feeling extends to Felix, especially when Eulalio notes how the man recounts “his childhood as though he’d really lived through it” (Agualusa 88), casting doubt on Felix’s own reliability (even though he is close to Eulalio).
Ultimately, the novel reveals that Jose’s real name is Pedro Gouveia, seeking Felix’s services to commit revenge against Edmundo, a communist revolutionary responsible for his personal tragedies. This included killing his wife as well as torturing his newborn daughter, who we find out was Angela!
D. Duplicity and Translation
What captured my attention was the novel’s exploration of duplicity, especially illustrated when the Minister seeks Felix’s help to fabricate a genealogy that connects him to a notable historical figure, aiming to boost his appeal. Dr. Beasley-Murray’s discussion on how “dissimulation is designed to deceive us, making us vulnerable to exploitation” and the advice to “remain vigilant of the true essence concealed behind the facade” (1-2), prompted me to reflect on the nature of truth and falsehood in our society and history. It’s fascinating, and somewhat meta, to realize that some of the truths we accept in this world might actually be constructions and we blindly accept them as fact.
Moreover, I also wanted to discuss the author’s point that “every translation is a re-creation” (Agualusa qtd. in Beasley-Murray 2). Here, Agualusa underscores the transformative power of translation, emphasizing that every translated version of a story provides a unique lens through which we view it. With each translation, we encounter a different facet of the narrative, colored by the translator’s choices and interpretations, which is obviously heavily relevant to Romance Studies — it’s interesting to think about the ways in which we interpret novels may not be the way the author originally intended.
Consequently, the true essence of a novel remains ever elusive and hidden (like a chameleon lol), as we are always interacting with a version that has been shaped and reshaped by layers of interpretation — there are infinite possibilities contained within a single piece of literature and the idea that our understanding of a story is continually evolving.
E. My Ending Thoughts!
Although the book does not feature the kind of heart-wrenching fatalities that leave readers in tears (like in Time of the Doves or Hour of the Star), it made me very emotional towards the climax when Felix uncovers the truth about Angela and Pedro. Their duplicity regarding their identities, though devoid of harmful intentions, underscores the irony of Felix’s situation—he, a fabricator of identities, finds authenticity and realness in the least expected place: Eulalio, an actual chameleon. The ending, however, was quite satisfying as it hinted at Felix’s quest to find Angela. Contrary to Felix’s philosophy on life, I hope that the two “live happily ever after” (Agualusa 89).
F. Questions for Discussion
Q: What’s the point of Eulalio being a former human?
Q: Do you think parts of our history were constructed?