Skip to main content

Review of Above The Salt, by Katherine Vaz

 An epic historical novel that sweeps through 80 years, from Madeira and all around the United States.  The term “above the salt” refers to an old English tradition about the placement of the salt (cellar) on a large dining table – people seated closer to the host were “above the salt", socially-favored; by exclusion, those below the salt were on a lower social level.  This expression reflects the narrative only indirectly, in its theme of social distinctions that affect lives in tragic ways; and the author refers to salt often, in relation to tears and to the ocean.  

I was drawn to the novel by its Portuguese connection, and I enjoyed the language and culture references; but the romantic love stories and the evocation of life in the late 1800s propelled the narrative.  Occasional poetic metaphorical passages evoked the emotional state of the characters, and often jarred the straight line of the narrative.  We follow the triumphs and travails of our two main characters, and resist the temptation to look ahead to see whether (and how) the two lovers will reunite.  Suffice it to say, it takes a long time, many miles of America, and many tearful paragraphs.  They manage to survive the many absurd social barriers to such brown-skinned foreigners.  It is, in the end, an American-immigrant success story.   

The acknowledgments section of the book describes the intensive historical research that underpins the story and confirms the feeling of verisimilitude in the names and places and products of the 1800s.  A few of the more bizarre episodes were actually lifted from historical accounts.  I enjoyed the Portuguese language references, particularly when describing our hero's time with countrymen “plaiting the air with the swallowed sounds and ‘shh’ aspirations he recognized.”  Ah yes, swallowed sounds and 'sh’aspirations, indeed, we are struggling to learn!


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

EUA: tanto estrago em tão pouco tempo

 As part of my effort to learn about Portugal, both the country and the language, I'm subscribing to the centrist newspaper, O Publico .  There are plenty of newspapers: conservative tabloids, and socialist and communist-sponsored daily papers; I find O Publico to be most sober, with consistently interesting columnists and opinion pieces, in addition to some local (Porto) news, with just enough sporting news to keep me chatting with the taxi driver.   Today's opinion piece sums up, I think, European pundits' view of the U.S. government.  As the title puts it: so much damage in so little time.  I shudder at the rank incompetence and corrupt behavior, demonstrating a cynical attitude toward public service, showing indeed that the cruelty is the point. What scandal, what damage will be the tipping point to collapse this government?   And what will it take to recover from the damage?  Who will be able to trust the US government again, ever?   Only ni...

Yikes! Russian Chocolate!

 The other day we chanced upon a Slavic grocery store.  We went inside, marveled at all the products from various eastern european countries, from Czechia to Poland to Yugoslavia to Russia to Kazakhstan.  I grabbed a chocolate bar... and now I realize that it's Russian, imported via Germany.  The ingredients list is written in Russian, Kyrgyz, and Uzbek; and a separate ingredients sticker pasted over it in German.  No Portuguese or Spanish or English.  Hmm. How did it get here?  And what sort of sanctions are imposed on Russian confectioners? The chocolate itself is just okay, nothing special.

De Montpellier à Bayonne

  [25mar22] De Montpellier à Bayonne: Easy morning, clean up the apartment, walk the suitcases to Place de la Comédie , take Tramway one stop to the train station, get breakfast (regional specialties), train first class car #2 to Montpellier, changing trains is Toulouse.  Second class is 2X2 seating while first-class is 2x1 seating with a bit more legroom and slightly nicer seats, but otherwise not much different.  Fortunately these intercités trains have good wi-fi.  Arrival at Toulouse is a bit delayed; Jeff runs to the ObjetsTrouvés office seeking his eyeglasses.  Fortunately the office is open, the guy helpful; he shows me his box of found eyeglasses.  Mine are not there.  Disappointing, yet it's somewhat reassuring to know for sure that they are truly lost.  I run back to Track #3, where our next train is boarding—we (and others) struggle to identify car #13.  Even other passengers cannot find #13.  Eventually I ask a worker, who...