Galego | English

Fiction

Benquerida catástrofe

By Teresa Moure

About this book

Adam Cairbough, in one of his regular visits to the office of doctor Castiñeira to treat his skin problems, decides to get a divorce from Eva, the woman he has loved since he arrived in Galicia. The lives of Adam and Eva are shattered by an unexpected change that is going to smash to pieces all the things that were stable and certain and that used to define who is who. This is the new novel by Teresa Moure, after the best-selling Herba Moura, this time an investigation into that other sex that we all have inside. This is a vibrant story that plays with the indivisibility of prime numbers and questions identity as something inherent to the body. The reconstruction of their sexual identity changes the characters into happier beings, who look for those things that lie hidden in their day-to-day routines and that are finally uncovered as they shed their clothes before us.

Book fragment

The office of doctor Castiñeira was a disgusting place, as disgraceful as all doctors’ offices. On the floor, the noise that patients make with their restless steps was muffled by a green carpet that may have dreamt of being a green pasture at some point but today was only a green patch people stepped on all the time, grey velvet green, disgraced green. On the walls, the questioning voices of those who awaited their diagnosis became lower in mirrors: one there where there is more than one seat, another on the wall, or on the low table with magazines. If we consider that doctor Castiñeiras is a dermatologist, this passion of his -- or of whoever it is who decorates his waiting room-- for mirrors, is still more amazing because patients in this particular office tend to suffer from unbearable lesions that, enlarged ad infinitum by the continuous and enlarged images in the mirror awaken sadness in the minds for what is still to come, this horror show we will have to witness. But of course, whoever decorated the office of a dermatologist such as doctor Castiñeira, wanted to highlight precisely that our skin is our own golden paper to embellish the soul, and therefore the mirror only sees the ephemeral, what is on the outside, what is alien to us.