The whole novel of Nada felt eery to me, like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I suppose this is because of the aftermath of the Spanish civil war, as the lecture video states that the family’s trauma haunts the narrative – so it’s more like the shoe has already dropped, and everything is what happens after. I think it felt unsettling because I kept expecting something to blow up in her face, and then nothing did. Perhaps that’s what Andrea felt as well: she moved to Barcelona with hopes and dreams for university, and left with nothing, really. What can you make of an experience that hasn’t given you anything except the perilous effects of trauma?
I thought it was interesting how the novel never really discusses what happened in the war, but you can feel it simply from the atmosphere and people’s living conditions. Andrea is quiet and silent throughout the novel, but I think I relate to her position. How can you make a space for yourself when there’s barely enough space for others? I don’t think I would want to get myself directly involved with all of the family drama – she’s just trying to live. In a way, she feels like she’s sitting in the backseat of someone else’s life. Initially, she had a romanticized view of Barcelona, but the reality quickly diminished her expectations. Similar to Andrea, I felt somewhat empty after reading Nada. What exactly could I take away? I felt desolate, like the war-torn condition also affected my inner state. The novel simply displayed the reality of the effects of war. I think that’s why the lecture video was also intriguing, as it pointed out details I hadn’t previously noticed, which pointed to the effects of war. I’d be interested to find out if these fictional experiences differed vastly from the lived experiences, or if anything was adapted, or even less exaggerated than the real life.
It was a bit of a tough read, not because of the language or setting, but because of the emotional heaviness I felt. It’s also difficult to grasp because there’s no clear villain or antagonist, there’s no clear ‘hope’, you just have to make do with what you’re given. Lines aren’t drawn, and Andrea has been placed into this situation while hoping for the best for herself. It’s not worth it for Andrea to ‘escape’ really, and she can’t begin to solve her family’s problems. She just… lives. I think it’s a strong protection method, but perhaps other people would think it’s negatively avoidant.
4 replies on “Nada: Just Trying to Live”
Thanks for your post… just in time! Don’t forget to leave us a specific question about the novel so we can discuss it.
“there’s no clear villain or antagonist”
Are there no villains here? You talk quite a lot about Andrea, but not about the other characters… what about Angustias? Or Román? What do we think of them?
I really like your idea that “the shoe has already dropped,” because it explains why the novel feels so tense without anything actually exploding. Nada seems less about resolution and more about existing in the aftermath of trauma, where simply living becomes the main act. Andrea’s quietness feels like a form of self preservation rather than avoidance, especially in a space where there’s barely room for anyone to breathe, let alone grow. I really like your analysis of this book.
I like how you described that constant feeling of waiting for something to happen, only to realize the damage already has. That quiet, post-war heaviness makes Andrea’s passivity feel more like survival than avoidance. Sometimes “just living” is all she can do. The emptiness you felt after reading honestly shows how deeply the novel sticks with you.