My father wrote three major novels, and this was the first. The other two—especially My Uncle Jacinto but also Paco Never Fails—went on to become successful films, and Mother Unknown was about to be adapted into a screenplay upon my father's death. However, that never happened, and as I've translated the text into English while adapting it, I have aimed not only to provide proper content editing (something Plaza Janez never did) but also to make it more appealing to producers. Much of the story is set in Tangier during World War II, while the rest takes place in Naples, Paris and Avila. Read book part. VIDEO
Tangier during World War Two—less than five minutes from Gibraltar as the rocket flies—a large town or perhaps a small city. Whatever it was, it remained outside the war and the world order to which much of Europe was compelled to subject itself, yet not outside the whirlwind of plots that surrounded it. This is the scene on which the curtain rises for Act I of my father’s first (and only, yet not turned into cine) major novel. Tangier, however, is merely the setting that Andres Laszlo Sr. has chosen to initiate this drama.
Tangier forms the orchestral background against which the initial part of this tumultuous story is set: a backdrop that complements the vigorous figure of Kurt, the sculptor protagonist. Kurt’s presence in Tangier during World War II can be best understood as an escape, resonating with Senior’s own flight from the war and his military service (an escape for which he was imprisoned). Driven by his fierce desire for independence, Kurt seems destined never to settle down, and perhaps that is why he has never permitted the ivy of affection to entangle his heart. He lives for his art of sculpting, but only as long as it satisfies him. Then, one day, this man—who has sworn never to leave a single track in the snow or submit to anyone’s will, other than his own and that of the marble—suddenly discovers that not only has he left such a track, but also that it has caught up with him, leaving no doubt whatsoever as to whether the boy is his.
One night, an anonymous hand leaves a letter along with a three- or four-year-old boy at his door. “Lieber Kurt, I’ve sent you your son…” says the letter. Where there should have been a signature, there is nothing but emptiness, and it is the silence of this emptiness that prompts this great drama in our protagonist’s life. The man who had sworn off all memories, all scraps of love and affection, finds himself enslaved by the necessity to retrieve a long-forgotten fragment of his past, yet he does not know which.
Distinct from his earlier works – El Castello de las Focas and La Rapsodia del Cangejo – this novel reveals a new facet of Andrés Laszlo's personality. This facet captivates us with its dynamic descriptions and vibrant dialogue, foreshadowing his next two brilliant novels: My Uncle Jacinto and Paco Never Fails, both of which were adapted into films. This book was also on the verge of being turned into a film at my father’s demise. Interestingly, the boy is a carbon copy of me (Andrés Laszlo Jr.), which is rather uncanny, considering I wasn’t born until long after this text was first published. Moreover, my thoughts – for better or for worse – have been permitted to influence this translation, rendering it “an adaptation.”
Jose Janes/Andres Laszlo Jr.